ONE MAN'S LAUGHTER

THE GOOD GUYS

BOOK 16

ERIC UGLAND

Air Quotes Publishing, Inc.

V 1.0

Copyright © 2025 Eric Ugland

Cover by Sarah Anderson/No Synonym

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or you convince me your grandma just has to hear the scene about the cows and the worms over dinner. And don’ t just tell me that when your ‘grandma’ is really just a shady spam bot trying to sell crypto.

This is a work of Fiction. Nay, of Fantasy. All of the characters in this novel and series are fictional and any resemblance to people living, dead, undead, or otherwise is purely coincidental and all of them are better looking in my books. If you think you’ve found yourself in the book, please, lay down, take a drink of water, and call someone in the morning. It ain’t you. Except you, Kent. You suck. In all worlds. Mentions of places are incidental, accidental, and mostly inconsequential. The magic and spells have been researched in absolutely no way whatsoever, and any ill-effects after you attempt to cast them are completely on you. Kobolds are tiny dragons, not dog-like things. My math is terrible and my numbers imaginary.

Eric Ugland asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work, and also to get an extra Diet Coke on alternate Wednesdays.

For Wallace,

Thank you for being awesome,

And helping me keep my head above water.

1

There are few pleasures in life greater than being handed a metaphysical Uno reverse card, so you suddenly get to force the person who’s been wielding their power over you to do something they don’t want instead.

Now obviously, I'm talking about this as someone whose motives are good. It’s not like I’m the type of dude to force someone to commit murder a thousand times over, or run through fire and flames for an arbitrary piece of land that may or may not be a pass that gets blown up. No, what I'm talking about is when you know some feckless, buck-passing motherfucker has no excuse to stop him from stepping up to rule over a giant Empire, but he won’t because he's a whiny little fuckmuffin.

So when my somewhat good, sort-of friend Clyde Hatchett brought to my attention the total truth that the Empress of Glaton, in her dying breath, chose to nominate and vote her uncle into the position of Emperor, I felt a childlike sense of joy blossom up from somewhere in the depths of my soul. Glee spread across every inch of me as I stood in the bowels of those horrid ruins.

There was a little less glee when I looked at the remains of the empress.

Because there wasn’t a whole lot.

Clyde had done a good job in keeping her blood from reaching the altar, but the cost had been burning the ever-loving shit out of her, and there was mostly just a pile of ash where she’d been. The one saving grace was the lack of wind in this underground shitbox, which had kept the princess where she’d been. Largely.

“What?” Clyde asked, looking at me with a mixture of concern and confusion.

“Thinking about how to take the princess back.”

“You mean empress?”

“I mean that,” I said, pointing at the pile.

“Oh. Right. You think we should?”

“I don’t know, she’s only the emperor and all. Well, was.”

“Sure, but…” He paused, thinking, and then poked the pile of ash with his dagger.

“Hey—” I started.

“There’s more here.”

Clyde brushed some of the ash away to reveal a body. Not much of one, and it was more like a mummified hunk of charcoal than a human, but it was human shaped and, most important, the various bit of jewelry she’d worn as empress were in place. They were probably magical, hence why they’d withstood Clyde’s arcane inferno. And maybe they’d lent her enough assistance to keep her from burning up entirely.

Carefully, reverently, I laid my cloak down next to the remains. Then, I rolled the charcoal lump into the cloak.

I was about to wrap her, when Clyde cleared his throat.

He was bent over, pausing mid-brush.

I stopped the wrap, and he worked at getting all the ash in there as well.

Finally, I got the princess/empress secure in my cloak, hoisted her in my arms, and delicately carried her from the ritual chamber, leaving the Underwatch behind to take care of the more mundane cleanup. Clyde joined me as we very delicately, very politely, very demurely, headed away from the nexus of horrible powers, back toward the surface world of the Empire of Glaton.

Now, one might assume we would take a victory lap. A happy little hike through what had been hell, but was now just a distance that needed to be covered.

That was not what transpired.

The basic obstacle to that should be rather obvious — I, covered in blood and gore, carried a dead body that smelled of barbecue and wrapped in a cloak that was soaked in blood. And, double trouble, walking next to me was someone who had been rather grievously injured and had leaked what had to be most of his blood all over his damn self.

We were two beings and a former being drenched in blood, leaving behind not just little splatters of blood, but straight-up bloody boot prints.

And therefore, we were loudly and proudly ringing the proverbial dinner bell. Or rather, waving that old-fashioned dinner smell. Anything interested in a tasty meal of fresh meat was destined to at least take a look. And likely come and have a sniff and a lick. Maybe even get a tasty little treat. And what do you know? As soon as we were out of visual range of the ceremonial ritual hellpoint, out came the first set of hopeful diners.

Morlocks. A group of fifteen or so troglodyte-looking motherfuckers erupted from the ruins of a small set of walls that were barely chest high, coming hard for their meal.

Their obvious attack made sense, because here we were, looking like easy pickings. Two idiots and a hunk of meat traipsing about, not paying attention, so shellacked with blood and guts that we had to be mortally wounded.

And yet, appearances can be deceiving. When the first morlock came in range, I definitely didn’t use the only weapon I had at hand and wallop that fucker into the stone. Actually, let me say this for the record: I very much did not use the princess's body as a weapon to defend myself from monsters. Much. Because after the first swing, I started to cough on the dust that was not dust but ash…

I let Clyde do the heavy lifting on this one, only because I’d realized he's just better at taking care of low-level swarms of yurt-toting, choba-chugging cheeba-monkeys and not because the body I had at hand made for a shitty club. Besides, these morlocks were more like lesslocks, not at all the cream of the morcrop. They were the dregs of the dregs of what had been this society: smaller, starving, and with a desperation that made them quick to fight.

Clyde lit up the darkness, throwing around balls of fire like the Globetrotters on Gilligan’s Isle. It felt a bit like he was making a show out of it.

As the remaining morlocks either ran away screaming or died screaming, it was pretty clear that, after our first encounter, when I certainly had not used her royal charcoalness as a bludgeoning device, she wasn't going to be a great long-term weapon. Or, really, a short-term weapon. Or a weapon at all. To that end, before we resumed our exodus from the ruins, I reached for my bag of tricks and… it was still in my damn locker in the Senate.

“Fuck,” I said.

“What?” Clyde asked, breathing heavy at the end of the battle as if casting spells took physical effort.

“Just realized I forgot something.”

“An important something?”

“Yeah, sortof. I mean, I can get it, just, it’d be useful.”

“What is it?”

“A bag of holding.”

“You want to put the princess in there?”

“That would have been a good idea. No, I need a weapon so I don’t, um…”

“Use her?”

“Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen.”

“What didn’t happen?”

“Exactly. Just give me a second.”

He nodded, and sat down next to the body, seemingly happy to have a second to rest. While he did that, I went through the immediate area, turning over corpses with my foot to see if any of the idiot morlocks had a weapon.

Most of them had nothing, or maybe they’d had wooden weapons that had been incinerated via Clyde’s happy fire dance. But there was one chunky morlock who had a large candlestick nearly three feet long.

I picked it up with a grunt, surprised at its weight. It was really heavy. Like, I wasn’t sure how the morlock could have used it. But I could, although it was covered in black soot that was rubbing off on my hands revealing a yellow metal beneath.

“Is that gold?” Clyde asked.

I rubbed the soot off a bit to reveal more of the yellow metal.

“Maybe?” I asked.

“How heavy is it?”

I hefted it and then realized that I couldn’t even get a rough estimate together.

“Heavy,” I said, “but I’m shit at guessing weights.”

He held out his hand.

I passed it over.

He dropped it immediately, and the candlestick hit the ground with a deep thunk.

“Holy shit,” he said. “Has to be gold.”

He struggled to lift the newly dented candle stick, having to use both hands and the classic lift-with-your-back technique that really only works for the young and dumb.

I grabbed it back from him with one hand and gave it a swing.

Clyde shook his head, and seemed ready to say something, but then chose to remain silent.

“Should work,” I said, getting the golden rod into my belt. Which held for the briefest of moments before ripping free to drop on the ground again.

I sighed, and I got the candlestick over one shoulder, with the cloak and imperial charcoal on the other.

“Let’s continue our exodus,” I said, and started hiking.

Although… exodus sounds like we were racing, or at least attempting to get out of there quickly. In reality, we moved at a comfortable pace, without hurry or worry, making steady progress through the underworld, apparently allowing for all the different groups of Morlocks — or as groups of Morlocks should be called, asshats of Morlocks — to get a chance to spring their ambushes on us and then get spanked six ways from Sunday.

It seemed like each asshat of Morlocks claimed a portion of the ruins as their territory. Moving through the various piles of rubble, the next asshat would launch their attack on what they saw as a moving feast, maybe somehow thinking that their particular asshat was the bomb and would show those other asshats of morlocks how to actually make a meal out of Clyde and me.

Then we would show them the errors of their ways.

I would set the princess down safely, carefully, taking a position over the body where I could provide guard, make sure that no morlocks got a bite out of her. Not that it would do them any good, it’d probably be like watching them do the cinnamon challenge, except with fine ash powder. Still, it seemed like the right thing to do. And while I stood guard over the royal remains, the good elf would make magic happen, which usually resulted in a fair amount of death, destruction, and nasty juju. The smells I got to experience were… memorable. If, after his pyrotechnic displays, there were any members of the asshat left standing and not running away, that meant I got to pull some toys out of my bag to beat the shit out of anyone I could reach, until the elf did something else foul to them.

Teamwork.

Although Clyde did one particularly nasty thing, something I'd really prefer never to see again.

We were watching the latest asshat of morlocks circle us, choosing a moment of tactical repose prior to all charging us. Potentially. We never got to see their actual plan, because Clyde’s little magic trick disrupted their strategy.

Clyde looked over at me. "You want a club?"

“Can’t say that’s my preferred weapon,” I said, “but–”

“Catch this,” He said, and ripped a bone out of one of them.

Now, if I ripped a bone out of someone, it would mean I reached my hand into the being, closed my fist around the bone, and torn it out of their body.

But that’s not what Clyde did. Instead, there was a fantastic spray of blood and a terrible fleshy-liquid noise from a particularly large morlock’s leg. And then a fucking femur flew out of its fucking thigh. As if someone tied a bit of invisible rope to the bone and yanked it with impossible strength and speed. Like Satan’s version of the tablecloth trick…

Our femur-less friend was now screaming, obviously. As well as falling to the ground, being that only one of his legs still worked while the other one was mostly jelly. I know, because jam don’t shriek like that.

On instinct more than anything, I snatched the femur out of the air as it was about to pass by my face.

One part cool, but more parts gross because it was so fresh and so not-clean. Unless you really consider that it should be covered in muscle and sinews and other things that make up the musculoskeletal structure, and this had none of that. Just the bone covered in whatever goop pumps around inside morlocks.

That rather horrific display of magic sent the rest of the asshat scrambling away faster than anything else we’d tried. So quite effective, all things considered.

After that, our tactics shifted to where I just kept strolling along and Clyde handled the morlocks, throwing down some tough stuff. I could sense how much mana he was burning through, sometimes literally, and I was both impressed and a little concerned. He might have been showing off, but I’d rather think he was being focused, handling the crowd control as efficiently as possible.

We also realized that if Clyde stayed away from me, he got better magical effects. When the elf was close by, say, right next to me, things would go a little sideways. Fireballs weren’t as bright, and often had a wicked slice to them. It was very clear he wanted to ask about it, since he kept giving me hey-what-the-fuck-is-up-with-you looks between slaughters, but he didn’t seem willing to actually ask the question. And if he wasn’t gonna ask, I wasn’t gonna answer. We weren’t those kinds of friends — not yet at least. I might tell him my secrets later, after we’d whispered sweet nothings into each other’s ears.

Eventually, after what seemed like way more asshats of morlocks than could reasonably have made a life down in the ruins, we got to the home of the Underwatch, with its wall and its fort and its big fuck-off door.

“You remember that being closed when we came through here?” I asked.

“I didn’t come with you,” Clyde asked.

“Really?”

“You forgot already?”

“Feels like this night took a long time. Months or something.”

“You take a lot of head wounds?”

“An unfortunately common occurrence in my profession.”

“Explains a lot.”

“The door wasn’t closed,” I said. “The cult didn’t stop to close it or⁠—”

I looked over at Clyde, but he wasn't there.

Instead, he was up on top of the battlements.

"How the hell’d you do that?" I asked.

"Trade secret," he said without looking at me.

"I just don’t… I mean, I thought teleportation was impossible."

"Then clearly I’m not teleporting. I gotta have something to make sure I can get away from great big lugs like you."

“Oh, I wouldn't call myself a big lug.”

“Can you just give me a second to look around up here?” Clyde asked. “Maybe keep this professional?”

“Why start now?”

He just shook his head and went back to sneaking around.

I didn’t feel like waiting, being that I'm more of an action guy, so I walked up and hammered on the gate.

Surprisingly quickly, a tiny door within the door opened, and a round human face with large spectacles appeared, staring at me in what I would describe as confusion and horror. Eventually, his features softened a little.

"Are you—" the man started in a timid voice before stopping. "Do I know you?"

"I was going to ask you that same damn question," I said.

“Well, I was a professor at the Enderun, but you do not appear to be a likely student of mine⁠—”

“Hey now, I could be a student.”

“You are a little… oversized for being a student at⁠—”

“Hey, you calling me fat?”

“No—”

“I’m too tall?”

“I—”

“Is there a height limit at your school? What the fuck?”

“I said nothing of the sort! Besides, you are, you should be telling me who you are⁠—”

“I’m the guy knocking on the door of the Underwatch trying to get back in!”

“Are you a member of the Underwatch?”

I shifted the Imperial remains and held out my arm, then flared my indicium.

The man peered at it, leaning out of the tiny opening.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “I suppose we are on the same side, being as I have been tasked with research on these⁠—”

"Oh, snap, I remember you. Clyde's buddy, and you got that funky name⁠—“

“Clyde Hatchet?”

“Sure. Not exactly sure of his last name, but it could be Hatchet. That sounds familiar enough.”

“If that is the case, then I suppose I could be considered ‘Clyde's buddy,’ but–”

"Pomeroy!" Clyde bellowed.

"Hatchet?" Pomeroy replied, confused, trying to force his head further out the little doorway when it was clear his face was too wide to go any farther. “Where are you?”

“Yo, can you open the door for us?”

“Yes, just, um, do you perhaps know where people are? Or where you are? Might do to, um, show your⁠—”

“There was a big mission,” I said.

“Right, but with everyone?”

“Most everyone,” Clyde said, walking up to Pomeroy.

Pomeroy started to say something, but yelped a little. Then he paused, trying to withdraw his face from the door. “My face is stuck.”

I put my hand on his face and shoved.

There was a little screaming, muffled by my meaty palm, but he popped free and fell back on his butt. He seemed unharmed otherwise.

With the man out of the way, I could see Clyde leaning against the wall, cleaning his nails with a dagger.

“Wait,” Pomeroy asked, getting back to his feet, “how are you…”

“Carefully,” Clyde replied. “I don’t want to puncture my cuticles.”

“Oh. Not exactly what I meant, though I would imagine there are better tools for proper nail care. But, just, how did you get inside?”

“Climbed the wall,” Clyde said.

“It can be climbed?” Pomeroy asked, eyes wide, his hand to his mouth, looking up at what he had clearly seen as the impenetrable defenses of the facility.

“Yeah, um…” Clyde started, and he looked at me, realizing that he probably just made poor Pomeroy pee himself.

“Dude,” I said, “the door?”

“Right, yeah,” Clyde said. “You think we can get working on that?”

“What?” Pomeroy asked, still looking at the wall.

“The door? Maybe we could, you know, open it?”

“Right, yes. It’s just that it is rather heavy, and⁠—”

“Unlock it and he can open it,” Clyde said.

“Him? Oh, yes, I would imagine — but I have had some difficulty with the key and⁠—”

Pomeroy disappeared from the little door. I could hear him fiddling with things.

“Sure,” I said. “Fine — leave it to me.”

“There were—a lot of morlocks were coming,” he said, his voice slightly muffled by the heavy door, “and I was forced to work quickly. Thomas, the janitor — and also maybe the cook — he said his finger was crushed in the door, and this meant the one healer still here, Janice? Janet? Janine? Something that has that ‘jhu’ sound, she’s helping They left me here to watch the door, and I think maybe they forgot that I was here on my own and that there are no others here to watch except me, but what I can possibly do here–”

“You can open the door!” I yelled.

“It is a challenging—” Pomeroy shouted in reply, but just then there was a bit of a noise on the other side, like someone had shoved someone else out of the way.

Finally, the door creaked. I heard the lock kind of shimmy open a little.

“It’s open,” Clyde called out with a sigh.

“I mean,” Pomeroy continued, “I am the definition of noncombatant, being a lifetime scholar who has devoted his time and life and focus to⁠—”

I shoved the door open with my shoulder and could feel that I was pushing the professor out of the way.

“—aiyee!” He shouted as I accidentally sandwiched him between the door and the wall.

“Sorry,” I blurted, and pulled the door back.

The good professor’s glasses were bent, and his face was flush.

“Maybe give him a hand?” I asked Clyde.

Clyde glanced over with a raised eyebrow.

“I can handle myself,” Pomeroy muttered, getting back to standing and bending his glasses so they well and broken. Still, he perched them on his nose and they mostly remained in place.

“The others, are they–” he started.

"Oh. They're on their way back," I said. "We're just leading the um… We have—we need to take the princess—well, the Empress… Her Imperial majesty highness, um, she did not make it through this horrible battle. And we are returning her, um, body for proper—whatever they're going to do to it here."

"Internment?"

“Yeah, that. Proper internment,” I said, getting myself all the way into the Underwatch Facility.

“That is the Empress?”

“Was the Empress.”

“But— what⁠—”

“You know, Clyde can fill you in while I handle this,” I said, hefting the remains onto my shoulder.

Pomeroy, flustered, turned to Clyde to get clarification on all sorts of things, and I could feel the glare I got from Clyde as I left him to handle all things Pomeroy. I continued on with the princess, back through the Underwatch Headquarters and then up the stairs.

All the stairs. Stairs after fucking stairs. Even as someone who has developed the glorious ability to operate tirelessly without stamina, that many stairs were still annoying. Especially with the body, which I transitioned into more of a fireman's carry about halfway up for a while, until I realized there were also gross elements to doing that. So I stopped and shifted her back to the cradle method.

When I finally reached the top, I paused. I laid the body down carefully, then took a peek outside, expecting that I was going to have to wait for Clyde to get up there so he could go out and summon Valamir. And yet, what do I see waiting but a noticeably fancy carriage with a particular high prince sitting inside?

“Evening, Valamir,” I said.

2

Valamir’s private army spread throughout the square, tucked into every shadow. A subtle hint that someone important was around, that significant historical events were transpiring, but nothing so overt as to actually attract unwanted attention.

I’m sure some people around had a notion that something was up in their corner of Glaton — there had to have been a lot of extra traffic in and out of the neighborhood, not the least of which would have been the newly crowned Empress and her cult cruising through the area with no hint of subtlety. And likely more than a little insanity.

But given how late it had become, I imagined any potential lookie-loos had given up on digging and gone to sleep.

Or maybe Valamir had forced people to close their windows and go the fuck to sleep.

Either way, it looked quiet.

“You have news?” Valamir asked.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Clyde?” I replied.

“No.”

“Are you sure? Because–”

“If we are going to witness the end of the world, tell me now so I might find a better vista.”

“Uh, tough to answer that one,” I said, leaning against the doorjamb.

“Would you like to join me as I head up to a tower to watch the universe crumble?”

“That sounds like a delightful way to pass the morning, but I think you’ve got some time to find exactly where you want to set up your apocalypse viewing party. Because these local fucks didn’t do shit. Now, same time, I can’t really say for sure there’s no overambitious Kronthian noble–”

Valamir let himself smile, just slightly, shaking his head at my shit joke.

“I take it, however, that your lack of ebullience means you have bad news for me,” Valamir said. “Is that right?”

“I mean, yes. Probably. Your niece…”

Valamir nodded.

I tried to think of what to say next, but I didn’t know how to break the news to the High Prince.

Then Clyde came up the stairs.

“Right,” I said, grabbing the elf’s shoulder and steering him toward Valamir. “Clyde’s probably better at explaining what happened.”

“I’m doing what now?” Clyde asked.

“Telling the good prince about what happened to his niece.”

“Oh, come on, really?”

“I presume she did not make it,” Valamir said.

“She did not,” Clyde said.

“Did you–”

“I brought her body up with us,” I said. I gently held her remains, still wrapped in my cloak, out in front of me.

“That is her?” He asked.

Clyde kept his gaze on the prince, but pulled the cape back a little.

Which unleashed a little bit of ash swirling into the night air.

Clyde looked at what he’d done, then glared at me. As if somehow it was my fault he’d pulled at the wrong end. Then he went around me, making this awkward situation so much worse for taking so damn long before he got Regina’s head exposed.

It wasn’t a pretty sight. She was… very dead. And mostly just charred remains. But the jewels burned into her were very much identifiable, so… a minor win, I guess. Still, not much chance of an open casket.

The high prince looked at the wrapped remains of his niece, of our liege. I couldn’t decipher any part of his facial expression. I could only tell he was going through something.

“I was not expecting that,” he finally said, looking at Clyde and me and giving us each a rueful smile. “I thank you for what you have done. Both of you. And in many ways, for…”

He drifted off as his focus returned to the corpse.

“Do you,” I started, “I guess, want her, to um, be–”

“You may place her remains in my carriage. Protocol dictates that I must handle things from here.”

“Sure,” I said, and carefully placed her on the back seat of Valamir’s carriage.

The high prince said nothing, but I watched his eyes carefully. They were wet and shiny, the hint of tears in a man who had long ago given up crying.

Clyde tried to get in, but I grabbed him and pulled him back.

“Let’s give him a minute,” I said as I turned away.

I could kind of see Valamir out of my peripheral vision, and I couldn’t help but turn a little more to better see what the man was doing.

He pulled the cloak back enough to confirm, again, that it was the ravaged body of his niece. Or, maybe, to see in her eyes and say goodbye. If she had eyes, I mean, because they were just ash now. The bits that had been her eyes had probably blown away in the wind.

He put his hand on her shoulder and closed his eyes.

There was genuine sadness there.

For a long minute, while Clyde and I stood outside the carriage while Valamir sat with her in the closest thing to silence one can find in a city. Then he leaned across, his face right up to her ear, and I think whispered something to her. He touched his forehead to hers, resting there for a moment before sitting up and pulling the cloak back up over her face.

It was touching.

Sort of.

Because you know, I still remembered what she’d done. How she’d been ready to kill everyone and everything because she thought things were bad… or some bullshit. I legitimately felt awful, but not for Regina. For Valamir. For all the other people who’d been caught up in this psycho nonsense. I felt a spark of rage, and promptly swallowed it right back down. Not the place, nor the time. Valamir knew what she’d done; he didn’t need me to rag on her. The only thing he needed was someone to tell him it wasn’t Ash Wednesday, but⁠—

“She realized the errors of her way, but it was too late,” I heard Clyde say. He’d stepped around me to get inside the carriage. “And she expressed extreme regret at what she had been a part of, what she’d been trying to do. She knew she was dying, that her former allies had wounded her mortally, your highness. In that moment, as I, or, we sought to heal or save her, to do anything for her, she said clearly that she wanted her votes to go to you. That you were her choice to fix the ruin she has wrought, and that she was deeply, deeply sorry for what she had done.”

I was particularly glad I wasn’t in the carriage, because it was a minor challenge to keep my face straight.

Clyde was laying it on pretty thick. Having interacted with the princess both in her pre- and post-cult eras, I’d be hard-pressed to believe either girl would give that type of speech, or express any kind of regret over her personal actions. But it didn't matter what I thought, just what Valamir believed, so I let Clyde roll with it. Besides, Clyde had more experience with Valamir and was better at dealing with the prince.

Valamir looked at Clyde for a moment, then stared off into the distance.

That seemed to make Clyde think he should keep going, and so the elfboy buttered the prince up even more, spouting off a lot of nonsense about forgiveness and righteousness and all that. And then he sprinkled in a few more ‘last words’ from the princess about her belief in what her uncle could do for the Empire and the future.

Despite my eyes rolling so hard I could see the back of my head, the prince seemed to buy it. Through his obvious sadness, I could also feel relief coming from him. Likely him realizing that this horrible predicament, the potential end of the Empire, or of the world, was over.

For the moment.

And yet, as soon as there was a moment of silence, I felt the intense heat of his Imperial Highness’ gaze bearing down upon me.

I glanced over my shoulder into the carriage.

“What?” I asked.

"Is what this man says true?" Valamir said softly.

But even though he was being quiet, I felt the weight behind his words. Maybe some ability, maybe a spell. Or maybe just the sheer confidence brought about by being a royal pain in my ass. It didn’t matter, because I already felt like I needed to tell the truth to him.

But feeling that way and abiding by that feeling are different. I knew I could say what I wanted. The real question I had to answer for myself was: what was the truth here?

It was entirely possible that the princess had come to a last second change of heart. I didn’t know for sure, one way or the other. If Clyde claimed it was true, who was I to doubt the kid? Especially when it was vastly preferable to another election and all the fucking bullshit that’d come with it.

“Yeah, I think so,” I said.

“You think?” The prince asked, his voice rising. “I would like to believe you would recognize the significance of knowing exactly what the Empress said as she died. If you are claiming⁠—”

"Hold on to your Imperial horses," I snapped. “I wasn’t there with her — I was busy trying to prevent the end of the entire fucking world while our mutual friend here was fighting to save your niece as she lay dying from wounds we didn’t give her. Now, based on the conversations I had with her in the two phases of her life that I knew her, I can say she thought you were the best choice for Emperor, at least for someone who wasn’t her. She thought you were someone who would push the Empire forward to become something better. Instead of, you know, destroying the world. And I trust Clyde. I think he tells the truth nearly all the damn time and⁠—”

“I am not claiming he lies,” Valamir snapped. “But I find it very hard to believe that–”

“I believe what Clyde says.”

“I understand what you think you are saying, but I would like you to be very clear when you put forward that the princess, my niece, who was voted in as Empress this very day, has died, and in her dying breath she expressed her wish that she, in her capacity as Empress, has chosen to nominate myself, her uncle, as heir presumptive. That she formally requested all of her Imperial votes go to me in the coming succession. Is that what you are saying?”

“I mean, that sounds a lot like what I am saying.”

“I would prefer if you would just give a yes or no answer.”

“Yeah, well, I prefer saying what it was I said. And I believe what Clyde here said.”

“It’s true,” Clyde piped in, then he turned to me. “But I think you need to actually say it, like formality wise.”

“Say what?” I asked. “That⁠—”

“I, state your name⁠—”

“Fuck you.”

“I don’t think that’s your name.”

Valamir leaned away from Clyde and me. He was done with us for the moment.

The rain started to fall, which made me look up. A few brave fools were peeking between mostly closed shutters, looking down from four-, five- and six-story windows at the Imperial carriage below, where two blood-soaked soldiers were talking to someone important while the wolverine-esque carcajou soldiers lurked in all the shadows all around.

Valamir had to know what we were doing. I mean, we weren’t that smart, and he wasn’t that stupid. But I wanted to believe he recognized the danger we all faced if we went through another fucking shit-show election after the one we’d just had.

Fuck, Katja Baeder had yet to be tried for her treason. She was still rotting in prison. Celebration parties were probably still mid-swing throughout the capital city.

“High Prince Valamir,” Clyde declared, “what I am telling you, is that to the best of my knowledge, once she realized the true evil of the cult, the princess–”

“Empress,” I corrected.

“Right, the Empress, wanted you to succeed her.”

Silence.

Clyde looked worried it was all about to go sideways.

I would have been too, but if I had been in his shoes, I would have stood there and said, ‘These shoes are too small for me because I’m a twinky-elf boy who wears small and uncomfortable shoes because I think they look good. I care more about fashion than function.’

Or, maybe I’d just say clearly, ‘Yeah, the princess wanted you to be Emperor. She gave you the votes.’

Or, ‘Well shit, motherfucker, we're lying. She died proclaiming her desire to watch the world burn, to see every man, woman, child, whatnot and wherefore die horribly at the hand of some foul cross-dimensional fuckstick. But regardless, you need to step the fuck up and take the mantle your damn brother left. So stop being a cowardly fart face mcfuckmuffin.’

Clyde stared at me.

“And what is a mick-fuck-muffin?” Valamir asked.

“Imsorrywhat?” I asked.

“You said he should stop being a cowardly fart face mcfuckmuffin,” Clyde said softly.

“I did?”

“You did.”

“Out loud?”

“Yes.”

“Care to explain what that means?” Valamir asked.

“What exactly did I say?” I asked, starting to get more than a little worried.

“I believe,” Clyde started, speaking quite formally, “you mentioned his royal highness needed to, and I quote, ‘step the fuck up and take the mantle your damn brother left you and stop being a cowardly fart face mcfuckmuffin.’”

“Oh yeah? Doesn’t sound like something I’d say,” I said.

“And yet…” Valamir said, but there was a smile there at the edges. He sighed.

“I have never been spoken to in that way,” Valamir said, “and I have to admit it was… refreshing. You might be correct. And if you both swear the Empress’s words as true, who am I to refute that? A cowardly mickfuckmuffin, apparently. Let it never be said that a Glaton was that.”

“I’m a bit tired,” I said. “I don’t actually think you’re a coward.”

“It might be that you are correct,” the high prince replied. “It will be something I need to think about. Later, though, as there is plenty that needs to be done tonight, lest things get out of our control. I fear, my good duke, that you need to get cleaned up and head to the Senate.”

“So you believe us?” I asked.

“I believe you,” he said, in a way that made it clear he didn’t believe us in the slightest. “But I am going to need Clyde here to go with me so we can put all our Imperial ducks in a row. You head to the baths and clean up so you might be present at the Senate this morning, and we can get to voting in another Emperor.”

“Which will be you.”

“I will not dictate your voting choices.”

“Awesome. I appreciate the freedom of choice.”

“As is your right as an Imperial duke,” Valamir replied, closing the door on me. “Do not be late. You will not want to miss your chance to be in the history books.”

“Aren’t I already in there? At least once?”

“You still need to come to the vote.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

As the carriage began to pull away, Valamir glared at me the whole time, making his thoughts on the matter more than apparent.

“Whoa, hey! How come elfboy gets a ride?” I shouted.

3

You’d think finding a bath house open in the dead of night would be a challenge. And you would be right, because I wound up making it all the way back to Valamir’s house without finding a single open joint. Nor did I find any closed bathhouses willing to open up for me. Which, you know, after I saw my reflection in the window, made some sense, as did the looks of absolute horror on the two sets of bath house proprietors who’d actually come to the door to see who was knocking the middle of the night.

But they couldn’t keep me out of Valamir’s place, which meant I got to clean up there. The guards were still awake, so I got to see their looks of disgust when I walked inside. I was just happy I didn’t have to sneak onto the estate.

I didn’t want to wake any servants if I didn’t need to, so I showed myself to the nearest bathing room and stared at something way more complicated than I’d expected. It was a rather open space with three large porcelain tubs, all currently empty. Pipes and knobs covered an entire wall, leading, presumably, from sources of water to the various tubs, each of which had a spout and a drain. One corner held a fountain of what looked to be fresh water. A hutch had towels, brushes, and a wide variety of sponges. Next to the hutch was a set of shelves loaded up with glass jars holding powders, liquids, and other things. Large bricks of soap sat in stacks on a small wooden pallet, and there were empty wooden buckets in a neat pyramid by the door.

I grabbed a bucket, went to the fountain, and began to fill one of the tubs with the frigid fountain water.

Somehow that must have alerted the staff, because I’d only gotten the tub a quarter full when two older women in pajamas stormed in, mean mugging me like I was a Skittle in a bowl of M&M’s.

“What are you doing here?” Woman One asked at the top of her lungs.

“Guards!” yelled Woman Two, making Woman One sound like she was whispering.

“I’m supposed to be here,” I snapped back.

“The hells you are,” One barked. “Some blood-soaked hooligan — who have you been fighting?”

“Comes to kill us!” Two yelled some more.

“I’m staying here,” I said, trying to be a source of calm serenity.

Old Woman One had grabbed a large wooden brush, and was brandishing it at me as if it could hurt me.

Woman two threw a brick of soap at me.

She had good aim and nailed me in the eye.

“Motherfucker,” I said, feeling a bubble of rage forming.

Guards came rushing in, yelling and holding their weapons, ready to rumble.

They saw me and the group stumbled to a stop, except for one guy who slipped in a puddle and slid across the room.

“Kill him,” Old Woman One cried out, pointing at me with the brush.

“He is the high prince’s guest, Elmira,” the lead guard said as his comrades helped their fallen member back up.

“He’s covered in blood!” Elmira replied.

“Hence why I need a bath,” I said.

“You be quiet,” Old Woman Two said, glaring at the guard. “Why should I believe you? Might be in league with him.”

“I wish I was — then maybe I would not be arguing with old crones in the wee hours of the night. Might be I could do something exciting.”

“Old crones? Who do you think you are?”

“Edmond, lieutenant of his highness house guard. And you are Galena, mistress of the bath. And that there is Montana, Duke of Coggeshall.”

Galena and Elmira looked over at me.

I waved.

“That’s a duke?” Galena asked.

“I am,” I said. “And I know I don’t⁠—”

“Don’t touch nothing in here,” Galena said. “It’s my bath, and you’ll wait until it’s hot, lest that blood don’t come off. Now, anyone who ain’t bathin’ out. Anyone who is, take your clothes off.”

I started to work my armor off, and was a little surprised when Elmira started to help.

“Might be best to just burn ‘em,” Elmira said. “Your clothes that is. Pretty much beyond help, eh?”

“Mmhm,” came Galena from the other side of the room. She’d started twisting knobs on the wall. A heartbeat later, water started to pour into one of the tubs.

The guards slowly left. Now it was just me and the ladies.

I started toward the bath, but Galena stopped me and barked to not get in until it was hot, until they told me it was ready.

Which was annoying. Especially because I was naked and just standing there.

But after a short while, hot water and suds filled the bath. Galena told me to get in quickly.

I did so.

Then the women attacked me with very rough sponges.

I grit my teeth and took it, because it didn’t seem like they were the types to be receptive to criticism.

Being scrubbed down by gruff old women who were not so quietly seething about being woken up ridiculously early by an uppity asshole who’d gotten covered in ‘yuck’ whilst out celebrating the new Empress was not my idea of a good time. That wasn’t exactly a direct quote, but close enough without having to blush over the language the ladies actually used, which made me think they thought I had shitty hearing. One woman pulled something out of my ear and held it in front of my face.

“What is this?” Elmira asked, mildly horrified.

“No idea,” I said, thinking it was likely something that had been inside someone else earlier that night. “But you can keep it if you want.”

She glared at me.

I smiled back.

Still, they managed to get me cleaner than I could have done on my own, leaving my skin feeling fresh. And by fresh, I mean raw.

Galena poured something over my head and started in on my hair. Which wasn’t much because most, or all, of it had been burned off relatively recently. As that happened, Elmira got her fingers into my scalp, and it felt like she was digging them straight into my brain. I saw stars.

But as soon as she stopped, I felt better than ever. Sort of.

I opened my eyes and saw the meaner of the two approaching me with an open blade.

I leaned back in the bath.

“Hold still,” Galena snapped as she grabbed my face.

“Nosharvingpleze…” I eked out.

She let go and raised an eyebrow.

“No shaving?” she asked.

“No.”

“You look like a schmuck.”

“Because I have a beard?”

“There’s no beard here, barely even stubble. Scruff.”

“What does that even mean?”

“A beard would be something. This just looks like you are lazy. Like you didn’t want to shave this morning.”

“I don’t want to shave.”

“Then I shave you.”

“I’m trying to grow a beard.”

“Do that later,” she snapped. “You need to look better for coronation.”

“I…”

I paused, trying to decide how to proceed. If I should proceed. She clearly didn’t know about the death of the Empress, or what was about to happen to her boss. I wondered if she was going to be kept on, moved to the Imperial household… Probably wasn’t my place to mention it to her.

Not like I could, because Galena took my momentary silence as tacit approval to continue. She grabbed my face, shoved it to the left, and got to slicing.

4

Iwas one of the first to arrive at the Senate.

I assumed I’d be the first person there, outside of the night guards. But by the time I’d gotten clean, Valamir had already sent missives around and prompted the lethargic bureaucratic machinery into action, because there were already workers doing their best to make the posh place posher so the noble bigwigs could decide the fate of the Empire in luxury and comfort.

First thing I did, though, was go right over to my locker and pull my bag out. I gave the magic bag a hug, whispered it promises I would try no to break regarding never giving it up or letting it down, and put the huge gold candlestick inside.

I spotted Danald. He gave me a look and gestured to the chairs, seemingly as an apology for not having my seating ready.

“You want some help there?” I asked.

He shrugged.

I went over and started to set the chairs up the way I remembered. He went along with it, going through and making slight adjustments to what I’d done to make sure the chairs were exactly as he wanted.

“Surprise vote, huh?” Danald asked.

“Something like that.”

“What’s it all about?”

“Emperor.”

“Voting her out already?”

“Not exactly.”

He paused mid-placement and looked over at me.

For the first time since I’d met the man, he actually seemed somewhat interested in what I was about to say. Or in anything, really.

“Can you tell me?” He asked.

“I think I can?” I said, wondering if there was any problem with telling this dude something he’d find out as soon as the Senate convened. “No one said not to — the Empress died last night⁠—”

He shook his head and sat down in a chair that technically belonged to an Edgemond.

“That’s not good,” he said. “We just got through all this gods-damned nonsense.”

I nodded, and went back to moving chairs around.

The older man looked on the verge of tears, lost in his own world while I did his job for him.

It didn’t bother me — the basic work gave me something to do other than sit around worrying about all my bigger problems. I could fucking put chairs in places and not bother thinking about all the bullshit inevitably definitely going sideways in Coggeshall. I could just focus on the completion of a discrete task. It was heaven. At least for the thirty minutes it took me to finish.

By that time, Danald had processed enough to be back to his old self: disinterested and hateful toward the world. He left to go on his break, and did not bother to invite me.

I went and got some breakfast, noticing that a few of the other lesser nobles had arrived too, and were also eating. Everyone looked haggard.

“Rough night?” I asked.

All I got were dirty looks, although there were some mumbles that could have been niceties instead of threats..

Apparently, I’d be eating on my own.

5

Imaybe fell asleep in my chair on the Senate floor. To be fair, I was tired as fuck. I awoke to a bell ringing and saw a few nobles hurrying to get to their chairs.

With a loud crack, an older woman, the chamberlain, came out through a special door and took her spot in the middle of the bench. A moment later, the next of the bureaucratic stooges walked in and took their seat. Then came the man with the huge book. They whispered between each other, which really just looked like performative bullshit — they could have been talking the entire time they were behind the door before they came out. But whatever. They needed to have us see them talking.

“The seven hundred and eighth meeting of the Senate of Glaton is called to sit,” the woman called out.

The man leaned over and whispered something to the chamberlain. She grit her teeth and took a breath.

“The seven hundred and ninth meeting of the Senate of Glaton is called to sit,” the chamberlain roared.

A bell rang, but it was kind of hard to hear, being that as soon as we pompous fucks who made up the Senate heard that it was a new meeting, a kerfuffle broke out. I wouldn’t call it a full on disturbance, because we were all still trying to be on our best behavior, so it was more like frenzied whispering and close talking to each other. Well, not me. I was isolated in the sea of my empty chairs, so no one could whisper to me even if they wanted.

It was funny to see who knew what was going on and who didn’t. Most of the senators fell into the didn’t category. It was easy to see who knew what was going on, because we were the relaxed ones in the room. I had my legs stretched out and was leaning back in my chair, arms crossed behind my head. The other senators, most of whom looked like hot shit, were the ones trying to find out more from each other.

“Silence!” the chamberlain yelled.

For the record, I was already quiet. As was the bulk of the Glaton block, which I’d been roped into, even if I wasn’t a member of the family or beholden to their archduke. But the command barely registered with the other major houses. While the chamberlain had ruled over us easily during the seven hundred and eighth meeting, this new meeting was starting off with an uproar.

The chattering did not stop even as the chamberlain hit her gavel down.

“SILENCE,” the chamberlain bellowed, “or I shall begin to issue demerits!”

That seemed to get the collective attention, and the Senators finally settled down.

“This, the first session of the seven hundred and ninth meeting, is a private session,” the Chamberlain continued. “None shall be allowed in Senate chambers save vote holders and seated guests.”

One of the older members of the Senate started to ask their neighbor something, and was promptly shushed, and then they shushed the shusher. It was quickly becoming a thing.

The chamberlain smashed the gavel again, so hard that the gavel’s head came flying my way.

I grabbed it out of the air.

Silence ruled.

“I have given what leeway I am willing,” the chamberlain said firmly, seething at having to do this. “These are extraordinary events, but I will not allow this venerated body to descend into chaos. You will be silent. Any further interruptions, and I will excise you from the Senate for the duration of the session!”

I held up the gavel head for the chamberlain. She looked confused, but then noticed what she was holding.

She made a face, as if this was the last thing she needed this fucking morning, and then hissed something at the woman to her left. That woman scurried away, returning a moment later with another gavel, and handed it to the chamberlain.

Miraculously, the senate managed to remain quiet that entire time.

No one came to take the chunk of wood from me, which meant I had something to fidget with while listening to the next horrific chunk of nonsense.

“Have all chairs been issued?” The chamberlain called out.

“All chairs have been issued,” the woman to the right said.

“We now call for the chairs present,” the woman in the center called out. And then began the great call of the names and their votes. Or chairs. “His Royal Highness, High Prince of Glaton, Valamir Glaton. Two chairs.”

“I claim two chairs,” Valamir said, standing up and smiling with decorum. It was hard to believe he hadn’t slept yet, considering what he looked like. He was positively radiating royalty.

Then we continued through the long and boring roll call.

There wasn’t any conversation during the chair listing, but the atmosphere in the room was getting more tense by the minute.

Finally, I heard, “His honor, Mayor of Glaton, Decius Tanicius Docilus.”

“Just the one chair,” the lone non-noble in the Senate called out. And he looked rough, like he was still drunk. Given his wobbling state, barely able to remain upright long enough to claim his chair, he probably was. “Though I admit I am rather, um, curious as to⁠—”

The gavel slammed down.

“Right,” the mayor said, “I can wait.”

“The chairs have been issued and accounted,” the chamberlain barked.

The man to her left slammed the giant book closed and passed it around to someone behind him, who traded him for another huge book. Which was then opened and flipped through, and finally the man nodded at the center woman.

“The Senate Chamberlain calls to order!” the center woman called out. “I present the business of this session. The business of this session regards the election of the eighty-eighth Emperor of Glaton. Are there⁠—”

Uproar.

Like Señor Frogs tried to do last call an hour early.

The chamberlain yelled, slammed the hammer, rang bells, and finally did something that alerted the guards to come in.

At which point, big men and women in heavy armor and Imperial tabards, carrying gleaming halberds, stormed the Senate floor and took up positions all around the senators.

As one, the guard dropped their weapons into a ready position, as if they were about to charge us and get all up into the stabby-stabby business.

The sight of the armed men and women seemed to push through the furor, and the Senate shut the fuck up right quick.

“The Senate Chamberlain calls to order!” the center woman called out again. “I present the business of this session. The business of this session regards the election of the eighty-eighth Emperor of Glaton.”

She paused, as if daring someone to speak.

No one did.

“The duly elected ruler of our great Empire perished last night,” the chamberlain continued. “The throne sits empty. Therefore, the Senate is called to session. Are there any preliminary motions?”

Valamir stood.

“High Prince Glaton,” the woman on the right intoned. “The bench recognizes High Prince Glaton.”

“I, as High Prince Glaton, motion to call the vote for Emperor now!”

“High Prince Glaton presents the motion to call the vote for Emperor now. Is there a second of equal or greater rank to back this motion?”

“I second the motion,” I called out.

“The Duke of Coggeshall seconds.”

“I second the motion,” called out another man.

“The ArchDuke of Glaton seconds,” the chamberlain intoned. “The motion was presented, the motion is passed. You will vote for Emperor.”

It had to have been hard being one of the other Senators, having just now heard that the Empire was going through yet another succession crisis, and they had no time to work the system, and no real say in the matter.

The chamberlain moved us right along, getting her people working.

An attendant passed out pastel green sticks as well as ballots. The ballots only had a single name on them: Valamir Glaton, high prince of Glaton. Below that was a blank line and the little check box where Senators could write in a candidate.

I put my twenty votes behind Valamir, though I admit being tempted to give one to “my neighbor Dave.”

There was more than a little heated discussion happening amongst my fellow senators, most likely rage at there only being one candidate on the ballot. After the requisite length of time, the votes were collected and tallied.

We all waited with bated breath for the reading.

I was a little afraid we’d have to sit through all the ‘Emperor’s votes’ being read out one at a time. Instead, the chamberlain just dropped it on us.

“The Empress established her desire for her votes to be cast for Valamir Glaton,” she said. “The High Prince receives 120 votes.”

A stunned silence took over the room as everyone began to see what had transpired. There was a pause as the dude with the book wrote things down, but then we went back to normal, reading out each and every fucking vote. Almost everyone voted for Valamir. We really could have stopped after Valamir got one more vote, because it was mathematically impossible for anyone else to have gotten a majority, but, well, tradition, right? So I got to sit there and listen.

Valamir got damn near every vote, except that Edgemond got fourteen, Nadya got two, I got one, and good old Dave, the Mayor’s weird neighbor, also got one.

“A new Emperor has been chosen,” the chamberlain said. “The throne is no longer empty; long live the Emperor.”

She wrote a few things down.

“This meeting of the Senate is closed with a successful election.”

There was polite applause, something between perfunctory and performative, being that the new Emperor was there in the room. But everyone was wiped out, and likely confused as fuck about what just happened.

Valamir got to his feet and nodded to the chamberlain.

“I accept this nomination to the throne,” he said. “And I hope that I might serve as well as my brother in guiding the Empire toward a future of greatness and prosperity.”

He hurried off the senate floor, following the chamberlain through the doors into the machinery of the government. As soon as he did, the guards followed, and then the staff booked it.

Before long, it was just us nobles in the room. Oh, and Danald at the back, waiting to put the chairs away.

I sat there a moment longer, trying to figure out what to do next.

A similar sentiment seemed to settle on everyone in the room. I’d known what was going to happen, and still I was confused to be in this position. So much time and effort had gone into the other election, and this felt like being a passenger in a car accident.

Nadya Glaton stood up suddenly, then hurried from the room.

I decided to just follow her.

6

As soon as I came out of the Senate building, a uniformed footman stopped me.

“Your grace,” he said, “his Imperial highness has requested your presence at the palace.”

“Who did?” I asked.

“The Emperor.”

“Okay, um, already? Doesn’t he⁠—”

“Your grace, there is a carriage waiting to take you to the palace.”

“Sure, but–”

The footman wasn’t willing to engage in further discussion. Instead, he put a hand on my back and guided me to the carriage.

I didn’t even think to hold my ground — I just went where he led and ended up in a carriage by myself, heading north toward the Imperial palace. Which was weird, frankly, because I’m sure it would’ve been quicker to walk. The palace was just across the square from the Senate’s building, but going via carriage meant dealing with all the traffic in the area, waiting for carriages and horses to move, and getting stopped by absent-minded jaywalkers. It was a lot of stop-and-go. With horses, which is never comfortable.

I leaned out the window and tried to get the attention of the driver.

“You cannot walk, your grace,” the driver said before I could speak. “You will not be admitted past the palace gates should you attempt to pass by yourself on foot.”

“Ah,” I said. “All right then, I guess.”

“Please remain within the carriage.”

I sat back down and stared out the window, watching the city be the city in the morning. There wasn’t much to see, though, because I was really just getting a trip around the square. All there was to see was bureaucrats going to work. And pigeons. Lots of pigeons. And something on top of the building, moving fast, a blur⁠—

We turned a corner, and I lost sight of whatever it had been. Almost seemed like a person, but it very well could have been a monster.

I almost left the carriage, but for the first time in a long time, I decided that it could be someone else’s fucking problem. Fuck it, I was busy.

The carriage seemed to have carte blanche in terms of palace access, because when we approached, the guards just opened up the gate, barely even glancing in at me when they waved the carriage on through. It was nice getting into the Imperial grounds without being stopped, without having to answer questions or prove my bonafides.

We went along a very nice road, devoid of any traffic and where I could fully appreciate the comfort of such a luxurious mode of travel. I admired the topiaries we passed, and imagined the upkeep of the joint had to be one of the major contributors to both the local tax base and the budget deficit.

The road didn’t go straight to the palace; it made a grand sweep around the grounds before it arrived entrance of the Imperial palace. It was a massive edifice, with enormous doors covered in gold and filigree. Incredible, ostentatious, ridiculous, and yet also undeniably impressive. Guards were everywhere, standing around looking pretty with their big spears and shiny helmets, as if the entire corps of the Imperial Guard had been turned out to greet their new liege.

The carriage came to a halt, and men in posh uniforms practically fell over themselves to open the door for me. They even put down these little velvet-covered steps so I didn’t have to exert myself jumping down from the dizzying height of the carriage.

My eyes ached from not being able to roll them.

More people appeared to guide me from the carriage up the set of stairs, currently covered with a blue velvet runner, to the doors of the palace, which were closed until I got to them. At which point, two large women in perfect armor opened the huge double doors in unison, revealing the grand foyer. Which was incredibly grand. New people came to guide me — couldn’t have those outside people leading around guests inside — through the palace, up some stairs, down a hallway, and to a door with four more huge guards outside. One on either side of the door, and two opposite the door on the other side of the rather wide hallway. They did not open the door for me.

The lead footman knocked politely on the door.

We waited.

“Big morning,” I said.

The guards didn’t move a muscle — they just continued to stare out at the world, as if there might be a threat coming any second.

The footman smiled at me.

No one else spoke.

There was a very quiet knock on the other side of the door, and my footman cleared his throat, then opened the door.

“His grace, the Duke of Coggeshall, enters,” the footman intoned dramatically.

I was a little weirded out, and I stopped mid-stride, not really close to crossing the threshold into the room. Why’d he say it like that? Was that him reading the metaphysical stage directions? Telling me what to do? Announcing what he thought I was about to do?

Someone behind me gently pressured my back, making it clear it was time for me to go in. I was suddenly very self conscious of how I walked, and it felt awkward as shit being stared at by everyone.

As soon as I was through the door, the footman nodded, and a young woman dressed much like the footman, closed the door.

I stood there, looking around, trying to figure out what the fuck I was doing here.

Four more burly dudes in armor with weapons were stationed strategically around the room, one by each window and one next to the door. His Imperial Majesty, Valamir Glaton, first of his name, stood on a short stool in the middle of the room, being measured by two young men as a familiar tailor lounged on a long chaise, supervising.

Madame Thorne spared a quick glance for me, huffed once, and then returned her gaze to the Emperor.

“You move fast,” I said, looking at the furniture in the drawing room available for me to sit on, and hopefully not break.

“Being that I had at least one of your votes secured,” Valamir said, “I knew what the future held for me, so I could put certain things into motion as soon as I delivered the Empress to her resting.”

“Such as getting new fancy clothes made?”

“The coronation requires specific garments.”

“Can’t you just make some alterations to the…” I stopped myself before finishing the joke. It was in poor taste. “Sorry. I just… can’t seem to help myself sometimes.”

“Apology accepted. I know she has appeared as an enemy to you, but⁠—”

“You lost a family member. I get it.”

He nodded once, then continued. “I have been thinking quite a bit about you while I should have been thinking about other things.”

“I’m flattered.”

The high prince — I mean Emperor — put a hand on one of the tailors to force him to pause, then leaned back to give me a look like I needed to shut the fuck up.

I smiled and sat down on the couch opposite Madame Thorne. It groaned a little — the couch, not Madame Thorne. She grunted. I waited to see if the couch was going to break, but it seemed willing to hold me, at least for the time being.

“I presumed you are already working out the ways in which you might exit the city immediately, correct?” he asked.

“I mean, no. Not yet. Had that whole Senate vote I had to⁠—”

“Montana, you made it seem you would prefer to head home before voting in the Imperial election this very morning, despite the historical impact of all that is going on. I know you want to leave — there’s no need to hide that from me.”

“Leaving was my plan for post-lunch.”

“Right. I should not forget your propensity for eating me out of house and home.”

“Like I made a dent in your pantry.”

He raised an eyebrow and made a face, which made me think that maybe I had actually eaten more than he’d anticipated.

“Yeah,” I continued before he produced an itemized list of everything I’d consumed, “I want to go home. For a lot of fucking — shit, probably shouldn’t curse in front of the Emperor⁠—”

“You have earned the right to speak how you please in front of me, Montana.”

“Um, thank you, you’re, um, immense?”

“Eminence?”

“That sounds more like it.”

“It is neither of those. Being that you are not in the Imperial family, yet⁠—”

“Not funny.”

“Not joking.”

I didn’t smile. I didn’t even want him to think of continuing that line of thought.

“So it’s highness?”

“Majesty.”

“Your majesty?”

“Yes. Well, if we are going for precision, Imperial Majesty.”

“Imperial Majesty… So highness is for princes?”

“Yes. Also, for lesser kings. Dukes are Grace, Counts are lords, and so on.”

“Got it, your Imperial Majesty.”

“Granted, whenever we are in an informal setting, your status as a Hero of the Empire entitles you to address me informally.”

“You got it, dude.”

“Maybe not that informally. And if you would continue your thought before we get completely derailed.”

“Bit late,” I said.

“Do try.”

“I want to go because I know the shit is going to hit the fan before I get there.”

“I fear I am not quite following — where is this metaphorical fan?”

“Coggeshall. I mean, given how long I’ve been gone and how much was happening when I left, I’m reasonably confident the fan has been spreading shit all over my home for the epoch I’ve already been handing around here with you, dammit.”

“Epoch seems a little much. It’s only been a few weeks.”

I opened my mouth to do some yelling, and he held out his hands to stop me, which made the tailors tsk when their measurements were ruined.

“I have been forced to manage many realms,” the Emperor continued, “more than most. I recognize there are undoubtedly issues you must address, so my purpose in calling you here, before any other member of the Empire, is to fast-track your departure.”

“Oh. Well then, I appreciate that.”

“I will make sure that you are noted as being unable to attend the coronation due to circumstances that require your presence at your primary holding–”

“Thank you,” I interrupted, but he just kept going.

“—which should be enough to prevent social backlash for missing such an event. I know you care little for those matters, but others do, so you should as well. But as you won’t, I will take care of that for you. In the meantime, I would push you to put someone in place for you within the capital. Someone who might be available for government meetings, who can present themselves at social gatherings, and someone to advocate for you. Not to mention keeping you abreast of current events in the Empire and beyond.”

“I take it you have someone in mind already.”

“While there are plenty of individuals I could offer, I would have to wonder if you could find any of them trustworthy, being that you seem oddly paranoid about me. Despite our history.”

“Don’t you have spies in my holding?”

“I would never,” he said with a smile that indicated the exact opposite.

“Is this my proxy?”

“Yes. They would vote on your behalf, should something like that arise.”

I leaned back and stared up at the ceiling.

It was not the relaxing soft white nothingness I’d wanted. Instead, it was a white on white painting, something incredibly detailed and also completely miss-able, unless you were sitting down and staring up at the ceiling. At which point, you could get lost trying to find all the various details.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said, pointing at the ceiling.

Valamir glanced up, then did a double take and took a much closer look.

“What in the…” he drifted off, just staring in confusion.

“Right?”

“I would like to find out more about who… or why…”

You have been offered a quest by the Emperor of Glaton:

The Mystery Artist

Discover the identity of the artist responsible for the reliefs and paintings on the ceilings of the Seventh Imperial Drawing Room

Reward for success: An imperial gift

Penalty for failure (or refusal): None

Yes/No

“I think you just gave me a quest!” I said.

“To find out the artist?”

“Yeah, but–”

The quest disappeared from my view.

“It’s gone–” I said.

“Someone else must have accepted it,” Valamir said, smiling. “My brother mentioned that sometimes happened. That he had to be careful wondering about things. Otherwise, he might bankrupt the Empire paying rewards for little curiosities.”

“Weird.”

“Indeed. But also not important at the moment. We have again swerved off topic. Madame Thorne, I hate to rush you, but I have need to speak to this man in private.”

“You are the Emperor,” the tailor said, bowing, “we serve at your pleasure and on your schedule.”

She clapped her hands twice, and the two young men with measuring tapes packed their things up and walked their boss out of the room.

7

Valamir sighed and dropped into an armchair across from me.

“This is already annoying,” he said, holding his forehead with one hand.

“Yeah, it looks so difficult.”

He rolled his eyes.

“I know you know just how challenging this style of living can be.”

“Are the, um, guards…?”

“No, it would seem they remain. A small cadre who are rather stuck with me and sworn to secrecy, eh?” He asked, looking at one of the nearer guards. Who did smile slightly in return before the stoic facial expression resumed. “I fear I have given up any hope of privacy or personal choice for years to come.”

“Hopefully years,” I said, leaving it at that. No need to make a pithy comment about the length of Emperor reigns in the recent past.

“Yes, well, perhaps. It was not an uneventful night after we departed ways. I had several conversations with individuals as I tried to make sure this,” he gestured around him, “would go the way we wanted.”

I held up a hand. “Let’s take me out of that ‘we.’”

“I did not include you to begin with.”

“Good.”

“Trying to get used to referring to myself in the Imperial plural. I have always found it odd, but it is protocol. Though you are a part of the ‘we’ in the broader context. Whether you like it or not, Montana, you are a major part of this government. And this country. And I would consider you an ally. You have shown yourself to be loyal to my family, and I have to wonder what that really means.”

“Oh, come on. You didn’t need to wonder before?”

“Not in the same way, no. Because now, I am the one you must answer to. I am your liege lord. You are my sworn man. You are beholden to me and my whims.”

“That, uh, does not inspire confidence.”

“I would hope that you understand I am not planning to govern upon whims, but that is what you have sworn.”

“I know, and I’ve been pretty good at doing most everything you’ve asked so far.”

“You have, and for that, I grant you my sincere gratitude. The question arises, though: what is it you would like from me? From this Empire?”

“Nothing.”

“That is impossible.”

“I don’t know, Valamir. I’m a simple man with simple hopes and dreams.”

“And what are those simple hopes?”

“I’m mostly looking to make Coggeshall a safe place to live, where we can have picnics and outstanding fishing.”

“Picnics?”

“Maybe even field days.”

“What is a field day?”

“A day where you run around in fields.”

“That is your idea of recreation?”

“The outstanding fishing is mainly what I’m looking forward to.”

“Ah. Not the picnics?” He gave me a wry smile, and I rolled my eyes. “But do you yourself hold ambitions beyond your current holding?”

“Dude, er, your majesty, I don’t even have ambitions for my current holding. I’d get rid of it if I could, but you won’t let me. Haven't we been through this already? I swear we’ve talked about all this.”

“I am trying to look at you through the lens of the present and the future. I am hearing this for the first time as Emperor, and⁠—”

“I didn’t want anything when I came here, except to have a nice place to live with good fishing. Maybe even have a pet otter or a crab⁠—”

“I take it you did not find that?”

“Not yet.”

“There is not good fishing in Coggeshall?”

“Fuck if I know. I haven’t had time to go yet. Definitely no crabs, and the otters are mouthy little fucks who get mad when I throw them around.”

“I can imagine⁠—”

“Wait, are you thinking about elevating me to archduke or some shit?”

“Yes.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No.”

“I don’t want it.”

“A fact that is quite apparent.”

“You don’t care, do you?”

“Of course I care. I have spent the bulk of my life working behind the scenes of my brother’s dreams. I saw the consequences of his choices and decisions. I understand the dangers inherent in forcing individuals into positions they do not want. As well, I understand what happens when you are forced to put individuals into positions they cannot handle. I am not a tyrant, nor am I naïve. But I will always care about the good of our Empire more than any one person, even myself. And if you are the best choice for something, whether that is a title or a quest, I will request that you do what I ask of you, knowing it is what I think is best.”

“Even if it isn’t best?”

“Was it not you who was mumbling about me being a muffin and stepping the ‘fuck up to do the correct thing’ just last night?”

“Okay, one: you weren’t supposed to hear that. And two: making me an archduke is most definitely not the correct thing.”

“I have not fully made up my mind on the matter, but my initial thoughts are that you would be an excellent fit. However, you merely asked if I was considering it, and I am. It is an open position that must be filled, and anyone who fills that position will be the one to whom you must answer. I have seen how you tend to view authority, and I worry I will not be able to find a worthy overlord.”

I wanted to refute that, to say I was a nice easygoing dude who was more that willing to work with anyone. But I knew it was a lie.

“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe. I might have had a few issues with authority lately.”

“That is certainly a measured attempt at describing things. But given that you understand the issue, I would hope you understand, then, the problem–”

“I do, just–”

“—and being that I will probably be taking some of your titles away, I thought it might be nice for me to have something to give you in return.”

“Want to expound on that?”

“Your love for Coggeshall is clear, Montana. But you currently possess several holdings that I believe you have never visited. Nor do you seem to have any desire to visit them or engage with them in any meaningful way. I would imagine you are ignorant of the location of all our provinces within the Empire. So I would like to take those from you and give them to someone who might make better use of those provinces for the good of the Empire. Whilst insuring you are compensated fairly for this sacrifice, of course.”

“Like the fürst of whatever?”

“An excellent example, as it appears you’re not even aware of what the fürst of Vreijuirag is…”

“I’ve been busy.”

“If you feel like you can take proper care of these places, and bring some measure of functionality to them–”

“Nope, take ‘em.”

“The crown will make sure you are fairly compensated.”

“Not necessary. Anything to–”

“You will be compensated. Anything other than that would be foolishness, and setting a precedent I would not appreciate. On to the next bit of business: when you return, I want to know what is happening in Osterstadt.”

“You want me to try to take it back?”

“I have yet to decide in that regard, but knowing you, I would advise against it–”

“Because I might destroy it?”

“Obviously that is always going to be a danger with you, but oddly, in this case, it is my concern that you would succeed, and being that you qualify as a Marquis, if you take that city, it then becomes yours. And I doubt you would enjoy being tasked with running Osterstadt.”

“I’d be viceroy?”

“No. That position was in place because my brother could not decide on whom to name as archduke of the region.”

“So if I was the archduke, I’d have to govern the city?”

“No, likely a baron would be in charge of that, and a count in charge of the county it is within, and then you. Or another duke, and you would have no reason to concern yourself with Osterstadt. Or there might be a duke, and then you as archduke–”

“Can we not talk about the archduke thing in so sure a way?”

“No. Regarding Osterstadt, I am likely going to wait until we know the extent of their partnership with Kronth, as well as what our current relationship will be with that kingdom, now that there is no chance of a union between our states through marriage. I imagine they will resume their offensive campaign, but given that there is someone able to order about legions, it might be they see reason and choose to accept a white peace. Unless, perhaps that is not enough of a lesson. Might this be a reason for our own campaign…?”

“Are you talking to me or at me or…?”

“A bit of all three, I suppose. I find it helpful to bounce ideas off of someone, even if they aren’t quite able to offer educated responses to my ideas.”

“Well, fuck you very much.”

“Do not think that it is because of your intelligence. It is because you have focused your attention on different arenas than the governance of this Empire.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Allow me to extend to you my deepest condolences for making you feel less than you are.”

I frowned at him.

He gave me a slight smile.

“Now,” he said, leaning back in his seat, “after we have gone through all the odious business we should not let fester, I return to the question: What is it we might do for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have before you the Emperor of Glaton. What would you ask of him?”

“Can I go home?”

“That is all you ask? We do owe you something of a prize, if I do recall.”

“Don’t you mean, if we recall?”

“I do hate that royal we.”

“Don’t use it then.”

“We would prefer not, but it is⁠—”

“Protocol, I know.”

“— so it behooves me to get into that habit.”

“Behooves we?”

“Maybe I can start tomorrow. Now, stop the tangents. Answer the question.”

“I don’t know, I mean…” I started, then I began to remember something that he’d already promised me. “Didn’t you already say you’d look into something for me?”

“Did I?”

“You, I think, sent a detective–”

“Right! Yes, there was that town you visited wherein you found evidence of missing residents.”

“Tolbialcum.”

“Only bit of news I have at the moment, I fear, is that you spelled the name incorrectly. There is a ‘d’ in there: Told-bialcum.”

“Oh. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Did you, I mean, did me giving the wrong name make it, um, hard to find?”

“Not that I was told. However, thank you for bringing that to my attention. I suppose I will look into things to see what has been discovered. Perhaps my new position will allow additional resources to be put forth.”

“Thanks.”

“You need to establish your proxy and place them somewhere in the city⁠—”

“You seem to have an empty home…” I said, smiling at him.

Valamir stopped, staring at me. Almost like he couldn’t believe what I’d just potentially suggested.

“What does that mean?” he finally asked. “You want my house?”

“Do you have plans for it?”

“Do I have plans for my home?”

“Yeah. That big ol’ thing over, um,” I closed my eyes and took a peek out the window to gauge where I was at inside the palace, and then pointed to the east, “that way.”

“I know where my home is.”

“Right. Here. Don’t you have to live here now?”

“It is not necessarily required, but⁠—”

“It’d be weird for you not to, right? Or maybe I could have this as my–”

“I suppose I could offer you temporary use of my home as a prize for being an Imperial hero.”

“I mean, or you could just give it to me, being that I saved the world and all.”

“Is there some other boon you’re saving up for? Something else you need from the Emperor?”

“I don’t know. I was mostly just joking about the house thing. It does seem a little selfish for me to get a house. I’m mostly just trying to get out of having to find and buy⁠—”

“You are a Hero of the Empire — the gift is supposed to be something for you.”

“I know, just…”

“Just you have trouble accepting things for yourself? Although, the house would be for your proxy, correct?”

“Yeah, but–”

“And, to be honest, it would be quite the expense were I to just hand it over to you.”

“It does look like it’d be a bitch to heat in the winter.”

“It is, well, somewhat onerous, I suppose. I will grant you the home. And the throne, in appreciation for what you have done, will cover any costs associated with the home and its running in perpetuity.”

“That’s, um, generous?”

“But the start, Duke Coggeshall. We owe you a great debt, and I will make sure you are properly rewarded. And in pursuit of that, I must insist that you finalize what you need to do within the city and return to Coggeshall in two days.”

“Two days? Is that an order? Is there–”

“Three days is when the formal coronation begins. And if you are still here, I, or We, will expect you at all such events.”

“Got it,” I snapped, hopping to my feet. “Consider me gone. And thank you for the house.”

He smiled, and I left before he could say anything else.

8

Ihad things to do.

Which, in this case, meant going to my new house, finding the people who actually knew what they were doing, and telling them what I needed done so I could leave for my actual home.

“You want me to do what?” Eliza asked.

“I need to figure out who’d be a good proxy for me,” I said. “Valamir wants me to have someone here to, um, represent us.”

“You.”

“No, I can’t–oh, represent me, sure. I guess it can be like that.”

“It is like that, Montana. And what is it you would like me to do in this regard? Find that someone for you?”

“Ideally. Do you know anyone we can trust?”

“I know people I can trust, but I can’t tell if you trust them. And asking you to trust them is… difficult.”

“Why?”

“Because our goals don’t always align the way I think they should. Or that you think they should.”

“That is… surprisingly honest,” I said.

We were sitting at the dining table, both at one end but on opposite sides. Some food remained on the sideboards, as well as a pot of something hot in case anyone needed a late breakfast.

I’d told her the events of the night and the news of the morning, and she took things as well as could be expected. She hadn't been overly surprised, and as she finished her breakfast, she’d taken out a notebook and began asking what needed doing.

“You will need to find a place for this person to live,” she said. “I believe I know someone with a home on Leonder Square who–”

“That’s actually already taken care of,” I replied quickly.

“Oh? One thing off my plate, and one of the more annoying tasks. Where? How large? I can look into staffing and furnishing–”

“Also taken care of.”

She frowned and crossed her arms, feeling like I was leaving something out. Which, I guess, I was.

“Care to explain how you’ve managed such a feat so soon?”

“Valamir isn't using this place anymore, so…”

“He gave you his house?”

“More or less.”

“Please explain further the more or the less of the matter. Actually, explain the more and the more of the matter.”

“The house is mine and the crown will cover whatever costs or expenses are related to it for, um, ever. That’s what perpetuity means, right?”

“Yes, but⁠—”

“Part of that Imperial hero nonsense.”

She shook her head. “Only you would call it nonsense⁠—”

“It seems silly.”

“It is not. And while this covers a number of problems I was concerned about, it also means you will have his spies within your household.”

“Valamir’s? Already got ‘em. Might as well be paid for it.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t mean you,” I said. “Although…”

“I am not, and I didn’t think you did.”

“I know he’s got people paying attention to Coggeshall. And some of those people are in Coggeshall.”

“Of course, but this is–”

“I’m not overly concerned. He’s going to spy on me no matter what I do. At least this way, I can make it easier for him and we can work around it if we need.”

“Do you intend to make me a part of this?”

“Aren’t you already?”

“Am I staying here?”

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Not what I meant. But I guess, if you want to…”

She didn’t interrupt me, but I didn’t want to finish the sentence. So we just left it hanging there until I lost the courage to wait her out.

“You could be the proxy if you wanted,” I said. “But I didn’t think that’d be the case. Unless you wanted to stay here because the city life is more your style.”

She frowned, looking at the saucer under her empty teacup.

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “Had you asked me last summer to choose between remaining in the capital or heading back out to the hinterlands, it would have been a much easier decision. This was where my life was, or where I thought I was supposed to be. But it has become more obvious to me how shallow, perhaps even pointless my life was then. There are those who depend on me in MountainHome.” She thought for a moment. “If I remain here, I can certainly avail myself of all the city has to offer, but I will largely be involved in the trivial nonsense of someone who spends her life in ballgowns looking down on those who might have to pull some weight every once in a while. I do not know that I could stand that anymore.” She stopped again, but I could tell she had more to say. “But, then again, this would be a position of power, where I would be attending the Senate regularly. Where you would be forced to listen to me, at least to some degree.”

She smiled.

I smiled.

“But,” she continued, “I would need to know your desires and goals. Because while you may be fond of fairness and caring much for the wants and desires of those who have sworn themselves to you, I do believe this to be something important for you. And you need to be the one who makes this decision. If I am to be here, to work with, or for you, then it needs to be your decision, Montana. If you feel I am more valuable in MountainHome, in Coggeshall, then tell me that.”

“I think you’d be more valuable in Coggeshall,” I said quickly.

I don’t think she wanted to smile, but she did, then hid it just as fast with a serious nod.

“I will return, then,” Eliza said. “And I will think upon someone who might serve Coggeshall well here. I presume we will return following the coronation and such, which would give me, what, a month to⁠—”

“Two days.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We have two days until we have to leave the capital.”

“What did you do?” she snapped, serving me such a look of disappointment that it slapped me across the face viscerally.

“I didn’t do anything!” I replied, indignant. “That’s how much time we have to bounce, or otherwise we’ll get stuck here until all the coronation hoopla’s over. But we can’t be here that long because there’s a ton of shit in Coggeshall that I need to deal with. And if I need to deal with it–”

“I also need to deal with it.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Are you sure there are problems in Coggeshall?”

“You think it’s all been smooth sailing since we’ve been gone?”

“No, but…” She put her head in her hands. “I do wish you had a greater understanding of timelines.”

“What about that advisor guy?” I asked.

“Advisor guy? You must be more–”

“Arthur, umm.. Reinhardt.”

“No. He has no loyalty to you, and I would not put it past him to lose track of what he is supposed to do in the Senate because he’s so busy studying what is happening around him.”

“Fair point. So then–”

“I will think on it, your grace. You need to make sure all of us are ready to travel–”

“Shit, Nimble.”

“What?”

“I think I might have lost my worm…”

“That is not my concern,” she said, getting to her feet. “I have no idea what that means, nor do I want to know. I have enough to do. You will need to find your ‘worm’ yourself?”

She hurried out of the dining room, and I sighed happily. Things were already getting back to normal.

9

With Eliza handling the bulk of the workload—or more accurately, with me dumping a giant chunk of my to-do list on her and trusting she'd crush it—I turned my attention to wrangling the rest of my merry band of misfits. And then also arranged for a note to be delivered to Valamir requesting information about my worm.

First up, because they were going to be the biggest hurdle, the damn goblins. It wasn’t hard to find them. Valamir’s house staff were keen to point out they were on the back lawn under the supervision of the kitsune girl. One of the footmen also asked if I could ask if that kitsune girl was available for coffee or, you know, other stuff.

I didn’t actually punch him, but I thought about it hard enough that I think he got the message, because I never saw him again.

Turns out, Amber and the goblins were behind the mansion. According to the staff, they were gardening.

I wasn’t at all surprised to find that gardening doesn’t quite cover exactly what they were doing, because it was… odd. I blinked a few times, trying to parse the intricate topiary work happening, something between an artistic horticultural massacre, and a step into the avant garden.

What had once been regular shrubs and bushes in largely boring geometric shapes were now fantastical, monstrous forms. They’d transformed what had been a quite staid, formal garden into something that was less landscaping and more combination shrub-zoo-nightmare. Don’t get me wrong — it was impressive from an artistic perspective. But it was also way more aggressive than necessary. I had to imagine it was a massive deviation from whatever was in vogue amongst the Glaton Lawn and Landscape elite, and not at all what either Valamir or his groundskeepers had in mind.

Maybe even more strange was that the goblins were moving calmly and working together, with no signs of violence or injury.

“We’re trying something new,” Amber said, appearing at my elbow out of nowhere.

“Gardening?”

“Not exactly my first preference for a cooperative activity, but there were, um, issues when I tried getting them to clean the house.”

“You broke something?”

“I didn’t. And also your use of the singular there, um–”

“You broke a lot of things.”

“Again, I didn’t break anything. But it seemed better to just move everyone outside where there were fewer, um⁠—”

“Breakables?”

“Sure. I think they do better out here, anyway. I think maybe they’re overwhelmed indoors.”

“You think it’s the indoors in general, or that palace in particular?”

“Is this a palace?”

“I mean, at the least, it’s palatial. And pretty tricked out like a palace from an interior design perspective.”

She pouted her lips, and then wiggled them back and forth, as if showing that she was thinking over things.

“I have given it some thought, but I’m not willing to make a definitive statement. Not yet anyway. The thing is, you’ve collected a disparate group here, and none of them are… used to living in the same, um, environment. Like, the mountain ones seem to like caves, small dark places with hard surfaces. The forest ones, like that one there, he’s more likely to relax next to plants, and I think he doesn’t feel truly calm without trees nearby. So is it that it’s so big? Maybe? But I think it’s more that they just don’t have the same concept of inside as we do.”

“You’re quickly becoming a goblin expert.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say that.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps.”

“Being an expert doesn’t mean you have to like them.”

“It’s not that. It’s more that if I’m close to becoming an expert, then I really should keep studying them so that I am an expert. But that would mean I’d have to keep studying them.”

“Are they that bad?”

“Not really. They sort of grow on–”

“Is that a new one?”

“Which one? There are two.”

“Two new ones?”

“Yes,” she paused, and then pointed, “the green one there and the, well, bluer-grey but still green one working on the troll’s feet.”

“Where are they coming from?”

“No idea.”

“None?”

She shook her head. “There’s just no— they show up, and I don’t even really see them coming. I just notice them as part of the group, but how are they sneaking through the city to get here?”

“Sewers?”

“Maybe. They don’t smell like they were in the sewers, though. Before you say it, I’m not that familiar with the stench of sewers. Just–”

“They don’t smell like shit?”

She waggled her hand back and forth, indicating that they did smel like shit, just not like feces.

“Have you thought about how we are going to get your worshippers home?” she asked.

“First of all, don’t call them that. Second, Air Fritz. Third, we’re leaving as soon as possible.”

“And integrating them into Coggeshall?”

“That’s as yet to be, um, figured out.”

“You realize there are issues with that, though, right?”

“Very much, yes.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know. It’d be a lie to say I was really thinking about it, because I keep thinking they’ll…” I petered out. “I’ve been focused on other things and I just don’t know what to do with them.”

“We just fought a war against them, one where they committed horrific atrocities. So it’s not like anyone is going to have negative reactions to goblins showing up as part of our community, right?”

“You don’t need to point that out. I’m well aware.”

“You need to do something.”

“Maybe they’ll all just be rangers.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“They’ve got skills in the outdoors, right?”

“Yes, but… Dammit, Montana.”

“What?’

‘That actually makes a measure of sense, but I don’t want to be responsible for them.”

“There’s other rangers. I’ll make one of them do it.”

“Maybe they could live with the bees.”

“In the brewery?”

“Keep them confined to the greenhouse.”

“You think they know about bees?”

“They must, but I was more thinking you can stock the place with bushes they can trim. I can see if there’s an apiary around here we can potentially not destroy⁠—”

“Just spitballing here because I’ve definitely dropped the goblin ball, but if we need to keep them out of MountainHome, at least for a while, the greenhouse does make sense.”

“They do love the gardening.”

“Perfect. It can be your job to get the garden going⁠—”

“I already have a job, your grace. I would appreciate keeping that position.”

“Don’t you serve at my pleasure—you know what, let me rephrase because that sounded a little gross.”

“You don’t have to rephrase it. I understand what you mean, even if others might read the statement differently, your grace. And yes. I do.”

“How much do you not want to be in charge of these miscreants?”

She paused and did the waggle thing with her lips again, looking out over the goblins in the garden. Which sounded a lot like a children’s book I didn’t want to write–

You have been offered a quest:

Write the Children’s Classic: Goblins In the Garden

Write a children’s book about the goblins in the garden, to reduce the fear goblins cause amongst children.

Reward for success: Greater acceptance of goblins amongst the literate.

Penalty for failure (or refusal): Unknown

Yes/No

Motherfucker.

I took the quest, even though I had zero intent to follow through with it.

“Let’s aim to have them garden in the greenhouse,” I said. “And try to give them really shitty tools that don’t have, um, an easy method to become weapons.”

She nodded, and gestured.

“That’s why they’re mostly using tiny scissors. Added benefit that it’s taking forever to do this.”

“Good.”

“We’ve got a lovely garden to practice on. I can probably send through a note to Wanda to get some cuttings–”

“Did I mention we’re leaving as soon as possible?” I asked with a smile.

“Define soon.”

“Tomorrow or the next day at the latest.”

“Wait, are you serious?”

“You’ve got this,” I said with a smile, and then hurried away before she could get over her natural inclination to respect a duke and start yelling at me.

10

Iwas on my way to the kitchen when something unpleasant happened that changed the entire direction of my day. Something that I felt could derail the entire Empire if left unchecked.

Bureaucracy.

You see, Valamir, for all his privacy and scheming, also believed in keeping everything on the up and up. Which meant he had already informed Glaton’s equivalent of the IRS that there had been a change in the ownership of the house formerly known as Valamir’s. I owned the joint now, which meant there were forms to fill out to indicate the value of the Imperial gift that had been given for the Imperial Hero's completion of the Imperial Hero Quest. It all had to be put into the record. And before I even had the chance to get upset about things, the taxman, who was a woman, told me it had nothing to do with me paying taxes — part of the province of my Imperial heroism meant I didn't need to pay taxes on gifts from the Emperor — but they needed to know what the value of it was in order to put that in the record. All so that people who studied such things could look at this record and marvel at how generous this particular Emperor was as compared to other Emperors and/or other historical figures.

And, because of it becoming part of the historical record, Valamir made sure to include an ancillary note that if this reward was discovered not to be up to snuff, there would be more gifts forthcoming until such time as Valamir and the Glaton lineage were enshrined in history as the most generous and benevolent of generous and benevolent Emperors.

The personal note to me indicated that Valamir would greatly appreciate it if I would just shut up and accept any additional rewards without acting like an impertinent fuckwit.

Of course, Valamir wrote that in slightly nicer terms. But the message was clear.

While I wanted to tell him exactly what he could do with potential bonus gifts, since this all was starting to feel like another pain in my ass, when being a pain in the ass had sort of been my thing, he was also the Emperor. And the one person in the world I had to pay attention to at the moment, because I’d kind of promised to do that, and I did usually take those promises of loyalty seriously.

The personal note in question, IMPERIAL CORRESPONDENCE, had come by way of a petite woman with curly brown hair surrounding a cherubic face that seemed perpetually in a smile. She was the arbiter assigned to me for the audit, and she needed to go through the entire estate with me until we arrived at an equitable value for the gift. The only problem, besides everything to do with the process, was that she was currently walking at the pace of a dead squirrel sliding down the sort of vague slope that makes you wonder if its not flat.

"I'm sorry," she said, noticing my grimace at the fact that we hadn’t even made it out of the foyer. "But I had a bit of a twist of the ankle on those cobblestones in Old Town the other day, and now I can't walk quite as quickly as I once did.”

“No, that’s fine,” I said. “I know how annoying injuries can be. Gotta baby them sometimes.”

She smiled at me a little.

“Thank you,” she replied. “I saw the healer, but they were… unhelpful. Didn’t think this really qualified to get a potion, that I could just walk it off. I tried to tell them that it hurts so, and that I am so very concerned I won’t be able to walk in the future.”

“You seem to be walking fine now,” I said. “Slow, but⁠—”

“Well, yes, now, but what about tomorrow? Or the next day? It’s just — maybe I just need to find a better healer. Someone who might have the courage to give me a better quality healing potion, or..."

I paused before I saying anything, because I immediately felt weird about it. Was she fishing for a hit, or just making conversation about something that’d happened to her? But if she wasn’t worried about her foot, maybe this whole ordeal would go faster.

"I might have a healing potion if you want one," I blurted out.

She perked up at that. "Oh? And you would be willing to give it to me, just as a gift?"

"Yeah. I mean, that's okay, right? I'm not like, trying to bribe you here. Just giving you a healing potion that might make your ankle better. Is that..."

"Oh, perfectly fine. Perfectly fine. I don't even have my notebook out yet. Frankly, I haven't even started trying to gauge the value of all of this gift. It's very challenging, you see. And my ankle is bothering me ever so much."

"Yeah, sure. Just let me go to my quarters and check."

"Oh, that would be quite lovely, wouldn't it?"

“Why don't you wait here?” I said, pointing to a vintage chair that had to be worth serious gold.

“Oh, I would love to sit for a moment while I get my things together.”

She sat down, gingerly, and took her sweet time getting her things out.

I went upstairs and opened the first door I found: A linen closet.

Still, I wanted to get this bullshit over with, I wasn’t going to give myself a tour of the mansion before I gave the woman a tour. I squeezed myself inside, brushing up against the overflowing linens, and noted that Valamir had excellent taste in bedsheets and towels, and that everything in the place smelled fantastic and felt incredibly soft. I should probably try to actually sleep more often so I could enjoy them. Then I pulled out my handy-dandy bag of everything and reached inside, thinking of a high-quality healing potion. I pulled out a red vial with no label on it. I gave it a sniff, and it didn't smell like poison, so seemed good enough to me. So I opened the door to the closet and saw that the arbiter, of all things, was smiling at me from down in the foyer.

"Hello," she said, waving. Her brown curls bounced ever so gently. "Hi. That's where you sleep then, is it?"

"No,” I said, and before I could think that it was going to be weird, I clarified: “that's the linen closet.”

"And you keep your healing potions there?”

"I thought I remembered squirreling one away there."

"When?"

"What do you mean?"

“I thought you just took possession of this house this very day.”

“Yeah, that’s correct. But I've been staying here as a guest of his Imperial majesty since he was just his royal highness."

"Oh, I'm afraid I'm not exactly up on the appropriate nomenclature, but we could just call him the Emperor."

“Sure. I've been a guest of the Emperor for a while now. Maybe that's why he thought this would be a good present for me. Or a good gift.”

"Reward, I think, is how we would term it," she said. This whole time we were shouting between floors. Our voices echoed off the brilliantly polished marble floors.

"I'm just going to come down,” I said, and trotted down the massive grand staircase.

I handed the small vial to her, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh,” she said.

“What?”

“It's rather small, isn't it?"

“Something something motion of the ocean.”

“The ocean? Is this⁠—”

“It’s a healing potion and it’s supposed to be very good, so⁠—”

“Let's see if it does a trick, shall we?” she said, smiling. She tipped it up, quaffed it in one go, and then stuck her pinky inside the vial and cleaned out the inside, finally licking it off her finger. She even sucked on the bottom of the cork. Then she gave me the vial back.

I felt more than a little gross.

She closed her eyes and stood there a moment, her smile growing bigger and bigger. Then there was a whole body shudder, and she sighed. When she opened her eyes, I swear I was looking at a fucking junkie.

"Ah, yes, look at this," she said, moving her ankle up and down and all around. "Feels like I could run again. Not that I would, but I could, and that is fantastic. Running would be just so foolish, especially not in the old town with all those rounded cobbles. See if we can get the mayor to put new streets down there. They take pride in their old streets, though, which is strange because they're horrible. Shall we go? Shall we move along? I feel like there is so much to see and so much to do and we are so short on time and did I even introduce myself?"

"Um, no," I said, "uh, you, uh, that, the foot, uh, that guy.“

I pointed at the man, a valet-guard-person standing by the front door, whose whole job, it seemed to be, was to intercept mail and messages and announce things. Which, as far as jobs go, wasn't bad. I'd been a bouncer many a time, and it seemed like that was this guy’s job, though I bet he had a better title.

“He announced you,” I continued, “but I think I maybe forgot because I’m shit with names.”

“No matter. Uh, I am, uh, Marie Brown," she said, standing up a little straighter. Her cheeks had a little more color to them and her big eyes were bright and alert. She gave me a smile. "And I am really most excited about what I get to do today. It's not often I get the opportunity to examine such a magnificent building. One of the greatest in the entire city, and I get a full tour? Amazing. Shall we begin here in the foyer?"

"Sure."

“Let’s go!”

We began in the foyer where Marie Brown took measurements and got the dimensions of damn near everything. Then she threw around some magic to get the exact makeup of all the various architectural elements that made up the mansion: the floor tiles, the wood in the walls, the crystal in the chandeliers. Where the wood was from, the age of the wood, rarity, makers marks. All of it was recorded in her notebook, followed quickly by her muttering numbers.

She asked me a lot of questions, but she also seemed to know the answers and was largely unconcerned that I didn’t have much in the way of answers.

It was a little odd to give a tour of a house that was mine at the same time as I was seeing most of it. Because, naturally, Marie had to see every square foot available, and she wanted to see things that I had no idea how to get access to. So I got to see the cellar, which was huge, and the basement below the cellar that was equal in size, filled with barrels and crates and casks and bottles of wine and spirits from wall to wall with barely enough room for Marie to walk alongside me. There had to be thousands of bottles, let alone all the other vessels.

“This is all mine?” I asked.

“Shouldn’t you know?” she replied.

“Probably, but I don’t. Isn’t it on your paperwork?”

She scanned her notebook, reviewing her notes.

“Estate and contents,” she finally said. “Which means all of this would transfer to you, I believe.”

“Do you need to go through each bottle and value it?” I asked, starting to worry I wouldn’t actually be able to get out of the city before the coronation ceremonies began.

“I do. Probably a bit of wealth contained herein, eh? But I’ll circle back to do all that. You needn’t be present for that detail work.” She raised an eyebrow and gave me a rather sultry smile. “Unless you’d like to?”

“As much as I would, I’m afraid that I’ve got other–”

“Responsibilities?”

“Yeah. That’s kind of the problem with being a duke. Or, I mean really just with being an adult, right? We all have things to do.”

“Right? Although I would imagine that you’ve got more on your plate than others, and some of your responsibilities are more life-and-death than mine.”

“Maybe? Who knows? It’s not a competition,” I said with a smile, and then started back up the stairs to keep us moving.

11

It wasn’t until we got to the library that I realize an excellent way to get out of this whole song and dance. Not that I didn’t enjoy getting a tour of my new home — except, well, I didn’t. I was bored and hungry, and I really didn’t want to spend the entire day with Marie. I already knew too much of what was going on in her life, and I really didn’t want to know any more about the issues she faced with her upstairs neighbor Ms. Nordon and her late-night gentlemen callers.

The library was a beautiful space on the second floor, something big enough that it could have functioned as a ballroom were it not for the furniture in the way. Tall ceilings allowed for huge shelves with rolling ladders, all stuffed with books in a way that made it overly clear there was no librarian there, because no librarian would have stacked books on top of books. Four large tables took up the center of the space, each of which had stacks of books on them, and there were several large leather armchairs tucked away, perfect for whiling away the day reading. Two fireplaces, both of which had stacks of wood ready to go, but were currently unlit, were on either side of the room, and large windows took up one wall, looking out onto the garden below, the view of the city beyond blocked by the trees on the edge of the property.

And in one of the huge armchairs, snoring softly with an enormous book in his lap, was Philippe. I had to admit, the man was good looking, in that classical leading man way. Especially when he wasn’t talking, it was easy to imagine him being a noble warrior, saving the world and the girl. Not so much when he was awake, because his looks did not match up with his personality. But somehow, while snoozing in that chair, he looked gorgeous, as if he’d posed himself purposefully to be painted. Dark floppy hair just so, black goatee trimmed, cheeks high and baby smooth, immaculate clothes, and unlike me when I fall asleep reading, there wasn’t even the hint of drool anywhere.

Marie raised an eyebrow at me and I smiled.

“Is this normal?” She asked.

“It’s not unusual. Work hard, play hard, you know,” I said, and an idea hit me. “Just a second.”

She smiled politely and nodded, though she was already measuring the distance between the walls.

I pulled a chair from the table and put myself right in front of Philippe.

“Good morning,” I said a little louder than necessary.

He opened one eye and looked at me.

I was getting confusion and little anger from him, like I was someone beneath him who’d had the temerity to rouse him when he was clearly in the right to slumber. He looked ready to sass me back to Arenberg. But then recognition happened and he realized he was looking at his boss.

Philippe sat up so quickly he sent the book flying out of his lap.

I did a no-look grab, snagging the tome from the air, and handed it back to Philippe. Who was now very much awake and trying hard not to rub his eyes.

“Dropped your book,” I said.

“Your grace,” he said, “I, uh, I.. yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Resting? Or reading? Maybe both? Amber has the goblins at the moment, and I–”

“Goblins?” Marie interrupted, alarmed.

“They’re gardening,” I clarified, attention on Philippe.

“But…”

I heard her footsteps as she hurried over to the nearest window.

“Is there something you need of me, your grace?” Philippe asked.

“I do — at least two things, and we’re keeping quiet about this first thing,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“What is the first thing?”

“We’re leaving tonight. Or tomorrow morning.”

“Leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Here.”

“I, um, what?”

“We’re leaving here.”

“Yes, your grace, I understood that. But where are we going?”

“Hmm, that does make more sense as a question. We’re going home. To my home. I don’t think you want to go to your home any longer. If it is your home, but that’s also a you question, not a me question. Or it might be semantics. Hard to say, really.”

“Coggeshall?”

“Yes.”

“Tonight?”

“Or tomorrow morning.”

“But–”

I shook my head, “No but.”

“You know there are goblins in your garden?” came Marie’s not-quite-shriek from the windows.

“They’re honing their topiary skills,” I said to her, focus remaining on Philippe. “We need to leave quickly and quietly or else we’ll be stuck in the capital for the entire coronation.”

“And what a nightmare it would be celebrating such an occasion when we could be knee deep in monster guts and in fear for our lives at every moment.”

“You may like it here, but imagine what it’d be like escorting and advising me through all those fancy events with all those fancy people who could very well wind up hating me. Except they can’t do anything to me, but can take it out on you and make your life hell.”

“I doubt that is what would happen, your grace.”

“Okay, then imagine how much happier I’ll be when I’m not here, and how much nicer everything will be for you when your boss is enjoying shit.”

“That does sound pleasant, yes. I should pack then?”

“Yes.”

“Are we bringing everyone?”

“Define everyone.”

“The goblins?’’

“You think I should leave them here?”

“I think… maybe?”

“You think I could leave them here?”

“Well—”

“Don’t you think they’d find a way to follow me?”

“Maybe, but at least they wouldn’t be, um–”

I held up a finger to stop him, because it was something to think about.

“That is an idea. I’m not sure it’s a good idea, but remember how this is only the first thing? That we’re being quiet about?”

“Yes?”

“Second thing: I need you to finish escorting Miss Marie Brown about the house.”

“This house?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t–”

“She’s evaluating the house and its contents,” I got a little louder, “and unfortunately I have other ducal commitments that I simply cannot put off any longer, so I need you to assist her in whatever way she requires.”

“But— I don’t understand.”

“Marie’s an adjustor with the Imperial Government,” I started, but then I stopped. “Marie, would you mind introducing yourself to Philippe here? He’s part of my staff, and far more knowledgeable about most everything than I am in regards to this house and the value of what’s inside.”

Marie, however, was wholly focused on the goblins in the yard, and didn’t answer me.

“Marie?” I said.

“I, uh, yes?” She asked, glancing at me before returning to look out the window. “I am still somewhat focused on watching the monsters in your yard. I have never — Are they–”

“Mostly tame,” I said.

I got to my feet, yanked Philippe to his, and pulled him gently toward Marie.

“Philippe, uh,” I stammered.

He looked back at me, no idea what I was trying to ask him.

“Last name,” I whispered.

He mouthed something.

I frowned at him.

He did it again.

I gestured, not at all covertly, that he needed to get his butt over to the lady and introduce himself.

He nodded, walked over to Marie, and gave her a courtly bow.

“Philippe Courcillon, social secretary for his grace, the Duke of Coggeshall. At your service,” he said.

That seemed to break her out of her monster-gazing, and Philippe had her attention.

“Oh,” Marie replied, blushing a little at the formal greeting.

And perhaps at the fact that Philippe was well-dressed, well-groomed, and one handsome motherfucker. If you’re into pretty boys like that.

“Marie Brown, Imperial Investigator and Adjustor for the Imperial Records and Financial Services Administration.”

“It would be my pleasure to escort you around the property,” Philippe said, “although I do admit a little confusion as to why you are here and what your goals might be.”

“I am here to ascertain the value of this property now that it has changed hands.”

“Changed hands?” Philippe asked and looked over at me.

“Did I forget to mention that?” I asked. “This is my place now.”

“This is?”

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

“Apparently.”

“The books?”

“Are usually included with all, yes.”

“I see. And I need to–”

“I think you just need to escort her through the space, and make sure Ms. Brown has access to whatsoever she needs.”

“I can certainly do that, but I have little knowledge of books or wines or artwork in terms of its fiduciary⁠—”

“Philippe, I doubt she’s going to press you on the current value of,” I looked down at the book in my hands, “The Chronicle and Codex of the Chimeras, Conjurations, and Catoptromancy of Archmagister Sarkin M. Bolves and the Concurrent Catastrophic Conclusion of Concartaharge’s Conclave: A History in Three Volumes, Volume One? Damn, that title just goes on and on, doesn’t it?”

“Um, yes. It was, uh, something I chose for the purposes of, um, becoming rather bored.”

“You wanted to be bored?”

“Yes. I was, perhaps, trying to rest, your grace. I know that I shouldn’t–”

I held up a hand to stop the man before he fully debased himself.

“You don’t need to explain,” I said. “You’ve been busy, and I didn’t give you anything else to do. Rest up. I mean, not now. Now you need to go with Ms. Brown here. But after that.”

“After that I need to, um, do what we spoke about,” he said somewhat furtively, except being that he was only inches away from Marie, so his attempt was rather painfully obvious.

“Yup,” I said. “And then after that, rest.”

“Won’t we be trav⁠—”

“Rest!” I snapped, finger held high for what reason I still can’t guess.

“Of course,” Philippe said, giving me just the slightest bow of his head, “your grace.”

“Great,” I said, and strode forth like I knew where I was going.

Which was sort of true, because I wanted to go to the kitchen.

12

Ididn’t make it.

I got close enough that I could smell the food being cooked, all of which smelled incredible to my starving ass, but a man wearing Valamir’s colors who looked like he worked in the house intercepted me.

“Your grace,” he said, not quite blocking me, but making it so I couldn’t pass by him without making contact. He bowed slightly, politely.

“Yes?” I asked, trying very hard to seem like I knew who he was and didn’t mind him standing between me and food.

“There is someone here to see you.”

“Another someone?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“A Granville Bellweather.”

“Don’t know him.”

“I believe, your grace, he is here to facilitate the transition of this household from his Imperial majesty to your grace.”

“And I need to see him now?”

“That I cannot say.”

“Cannot or should not?”

“I am unclear of the difference in this context, your grace. It is not my place to tell you what to do.”

“But it would probably be wise for me to go deal with it?”

“Mister Bellwether indicated that the Emperor himself impressed upon Mister Bellwether the importance and immediacy of the visit to ensure everything was handled with all due haste. He wished everything to be finalized prior to end of day today.”

“Whoah. Got it. So, yeah. I need to go.”

The valet just stood there, a portrait of neutrality.

“Can I ask you a question?” I asked.

“I am at your service, your grace.”

“Are you, um, do you want to work for me?”

“I am happy to be employed,” he said quickly, diplomatically. “And I am sure you will be an excellent lord whom I will serve to my utmost capabilities.”

“Can I get your name?”

“Hodge Fondulac. Footman second class, your grace.”

“Second class?”

“Yes.”

“How many classes are there?”

“Four.”

“Who’s the highest?”

“The highest class? First, your grace. Unless you mean to whom I report — I report to the house steward, your grace. Though that position is currently empty, so I am reporting to you at the moment.”

“Well, you’re doing a fine job.”

He didn’t smile, but he did nod slightly. “Thank you, your grace.”

“Wait,” I said, “is, um, I thought my proxy would be the head of the household.”

“I believe that is correct.”

“So, is he also the steward?”

“Might I escort you to Mister Bellwether?”

“Um, sure.”

“I can continue to explain how the house staff operates while I escort you, your grace. If you wish.”

“Yeah, um, no, that’s fine. Could you arrange for some food to be brought to us?”

“I will send the butler in, your grace.”

“Um–”

We didn’t have to go far, just to the dining room. Hodge knocked at the door, opened it, announced me. “His eminent grace, Imperial Hero, Duke of Coggeshall–”

“That’s enough,” I said, pushing past the man. “Nice to meet you. I’m Montana.”

A portly man sat at the dining table, a large briefcase on the floor next to him, and a stack of paper on the table in front of him. He had the look a man who kept gravy in his thermos, but the Empire’s secrets in his file cabinet.

He got to his feet, revealing the sort of gut that said he may have lost some morals but not meals, and reached out a small, chubby hand to grab mine. He gave me a surprisingly firm handshake.

“Bellwether,” he said, his voice almost comically deep coming from such a small frame. “Got me here to do the, um, to, um, process the–”

“I get why you're here,” I said, sitting down across from him. “Hodge, can you–”

But Hodge was already gone. It was just me and the little paper-pusher.

“I think there’s going to be food soon,” I said.

“I would prefer not,” Bellwether said. “Bit of a pain if we got any of the paperwork messy.”

“Awesome. Let’s get cracking.”

He gave me half a smile and pushed over the first chunk of paper.

“Yes, let’s.”

13

There’s very little I hate as much as pointless bullshit paperwork.

Sure, it’s not as high on the list as slavery, genocide, or Cleveland. But if you remove the things based on death or geographic nightmares, useless bureaucracy easily makes the top five.

I never grew out of that whole anti-establishment, problem-with-authority phase, and I hadn’t really processed a new level of irritation derived from actually being ‘authority.’ Especially since being the authority hadn’t given me the ‘doesn’t have to deal with bullshit forms and paperwork’ card. Here I was, supposedly one of the most powerful people in the land, absolutely buried in a mountain of crap to deal with. I had to fill out forms in triplicate — which, I might add, in this society without the magical Xerox, mimeographs, or laser fucking printers, meant sitting and physically filling out absolutely everything, three times over, with a shitty fucking pen.

On top of everything else, Bellwether continually reminded me how odd it was to find a man of my station doing the work himself. Most lords had a steward to handle it. Or a chancellor. And when I informed him that the position was currently open, he told me that if we weren’t in such a rush, he would have been more than happy to wait so that the steward could handle it.

I think he was trying to figure out why we were in such a rush. Or maybe I was such shit at filling out forms that he’d have preferred waiting to deal with an underling, since that would be less painful.

This was an Imperial order straight from the crown, so I’m sure the curiosity was killing him. But I didn’t want to let anyone know I was running away. Largely because that same crowned person told me not to. Besides, Valamir probably enjoyed the thought of me sitting at the table filling out endless forms.

Virtually all the paperwork was related to taking over the home and turning it into some sort of extension to Coggeshall. Which meant I had to dictate the colors of my ‘house’, and describe our crest and how I wanted it to look — as if those weren’t the same thing. I had to choose the materials used on the front gate where the Coggeshall crest would be hung. I had to decide about staffing and what supplies the household would need. I had to look at budgets and decide how much I wanted the Empire to spend on keeping up this property in the style I wanted. Or, as Bellwether explained, I needed to dictate my vision for the house and its style, and make sure the cost to the Empire reflected the grandeur of its occupant.

And so I had to become an interior designer on the fucking fly, because the house’s current design matched the House of Glaton, and it simply would not do for this bastion of Coggeshall to look as if it were still home to a Glaton.

Heavens forbid!

I realize plenty of people would’ve died to be able to sit around and pick out carpets and curtains and furniture without any budgetary restrictions. Or to look at social calendars and choose how often to participate. But I wasn’t one of those people. I was the type to make a joke about balls.

Bellwether either didn’t get it or didn’t want to admit that it was funny. Which, to be fair, it was one of my weaker attempts at humor, hence why I’d prefer not to repeat it here. Regardless, I would have appreciated a reaction.

He just moved along to the next bit of paper, droning on about what the paper asked and where I needed to write what I needed to write. And then when I wrote what it was I thought he wanted, he’d stop and make me redo it, because I had just written down what he told me and not what I actually should have written. It was all as boring and confusing as it sounds.

Bellwether’s curiosity over the situation eroded quickly, replaced by wan irritation of an expert dealing with an idiot. He was just as bored as I was, clearly wishing he was anywhere else besides here.

And just when there was the hope of a reprieve, when the butler arrived to offer refreshments, Bellwether sent the man packing before I could get a snack order in, lest this holiest of paperwork get sullied by crumbs or drips.

Which made me angry. I swear the dude had some hidden snacks. I kept catching him chewing or swallowing out of the corner of my eye, but I could never get any proof.

I might have poked a hole in the paper with my stupid fucking pen. Bellwether sighed and took that paper, and the other copies of that paper, and put them in the growing pile of waste. Then he got new sheets out, prepared them for me, and had me start over.

I wanted to punch him in the face.

I wanted to punch anyone in the face.

Or, really, I wanted to punch anyone anywhere. I was agnostic about the expression of violence — whatever I could do to relieve a little stress and rage. But I knew I shouldn’t actually hurt someone, nor did I enjoy the thought of having to clean up after something like that.

So instead I just swallowed my rage, which I’m sure couldn’t have any long-term negative consequences, and focused on filling out little boxes on endless pieces of paper and parchment that were apparently part and parcel of taking over a house that had once been part of Important Family A and was now part of Important Family B, and where it was vital than no one should confuse any aspect of the house or the household as still having any relation to Important Family A when it was now all beholden unto Important Family B.

All of which was explained very clearly on pages 8-19, which required initials at specific locations, not just at the end of each paragraph, as well as a formal signature at the bottom of each page. And because Bellwether was one hell of a fucking pencil-pushing asshole, he sat there and made sure I actually read everything I was signing. On any other day, I might have him held up as an ideal person to be in a position of pencil-pushing, but that day, when I was bored and hungry and already raging, it was all I could to do not break the table in half and rip the window out of the wall.

But I’d read enough of the stupid paperwork to realize that until this paperwork was done, while we sat in this weird limbo stage where I didn’t officially own the place, damage to the home would only require more paperwork. It wouldn’t be clear who would be required to pay for the subsequent repairs, because it would be unclear what repairs would be necessary, and some might read over the document and say that it was important to restore the home to how it was under Valamir before it was updated to how I wanted it, whilst others might point out that it would be fine to just do the update without the restoration. Something that was discussed in detail on pages 22 and 23 of the transfer document. Which Bellwether read aloud to me when I expressed my desire to put a hole in the wall instead of writing my name another time.

“Awesome,” I replied. “Wouldn’t want to make more paperwork for you.”

“Oh, it’s not for me,” Bellwether drawled. “It is just what’s required, your grace. Now, if you will turn to the second copy of page 22 and initial it where required, and then sign at the bottom.”

I did.

“And on page 23.”

I did.

“You forgot to initial there,” he said, putting one stubby finger at a tiny in the middle of the third paragraph on the page.

I initialed it.

And then I did some more.

And more.

And then the sun set, glowstones lit up, and the fun continued.

Finally, Eliza came in to report on her progress, and I managed to rope her into helping with some of aesthetic decisions, and she promptly pointed out that I’d gotten the Coggeshall colors wrong, and Bellweather let out one of the most impressive sighs I’d ever heard and dug through the pile of completed paperwork to find the pages we had to redo.

On and on we went. Without break, because Bellwether pointed out that he wasn’t allowed to leave and go home until we were done.

14

Finally Bellwether left. It was late, I was starving, and I’d managed to gain and level up the skill paper working.

Eliza somehow managed to orchestrate food appearing on the dining table, and I gratefully tucked into a roast dinner.

“I fear I have bad news for you,” Eliza said.

I paused, bite halfway to my mouth.

“What?”

“I have not found someone for you.”

“No proxy?”

“Not yet.”

“How many people did you go through?”

“Only seven. I imagine I could find someone for you eventually, but given the timeline…”

I ate some meat, then some bread. Drank a sip of something I think was mead, only weak enough that it was more like sweet, bitter water.

“I could do it,” Eliza said, finally.

“Stay here and be the Coggeshall proxy?”

“Yes.”

“But do you actually want to do that?”

“Have you forgotten our previous conversation, your grace? You tell me what to do, and then I do it. That–”

“I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“You are my lord — I am supposed to follow your orders.”

“Okay, well, in this case, as your lord, I’m asking what you would like to do.”

“I would like to do whatever is best for Coggeshall as a whole. And I think this is what would be best for Coggeshall.”

“I mean, I won’t order you to stay here. Not unless you want me to do that.”

“But I will do it.”

“Okay, but if you do stay, you’re going to miss out on the horses.”

“Horses? What horses?”

“I got us some new horses.”

“I appreciate you thinking that new horses are a novelty for me, and I do love the idea of working with new horses, but that is also something I have done my entire life, whilst⁠—”

“Steel horses?”

She sat up straight and leaned forward. Her eyes were wide and bright and I could almost see her breath catching.

“A steel horse?”

“Maybe.”

“How—I—what? Are you—You cannot mess with me about this, Montana.”

“I have steel horses.”

“Horses? Plural?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Mahrduhm.”

“I mean, obviously.”

“Spoils of war.”

“And they’re in Coggeshall?”

“They are.”

“How?”

“Fritz.”

“I just– are there— do you— so many questions, and⁠—”

“If you stay here, you can’t hang out with them. Or, you know, do whatever it is you like to do with horses.”

“That is rather unfair to drop on me as soon as I’ve come to grips with staying here, because now I can’t.”

I just gave her a smile.

She rolled her eyes at me.

“Means I have to find more people to interview, right?” she asked.

“Maybe?”

“Unless you’ve got an idea.”

“I do,” I said.

“Who might that be?” She asked, looking at me like that would have been useful information earlier in the day.

“Phillipe?”

“Your social secretary?”

“Yes?”

“Do you know him well?”

“Not really, but he’s been, um, fine so far.”

“And you trust him to vote how you would want him to?”

“I mean, I don’t know really know how I’d vote for much of anything.”

“If he does something you dislike, then technically you have to kill him.”

“Excuse me?”

“That is the punishment for voting in a way opposing the chair owner.”

“Man,” I said, leaning back in the chair without really thinking through the consequences of my actions, “that’s ridiculous.”

As if the universe wished to punctuate my statement, the back legs of the chair broke, and I crashed to the ground.

“Montana!” Eliza yelped, springing to her feet. “Are you–”

“Fine,” I said, ignoring the pain of the wood in my back. “Just, somehow, it hurts more knowing I have to pay for the replacement. Anyway, we leave tomorrow, so just do what you can, and if there’s no one to, um, vote in the Senate⁠—”

“Duke of Coggeshall,” Eliza said, sounding way too matriarchal, “you cannot just leave your twenty chairs unoccupied in the Senate.”

“Watch me,” I said, standing up and brushing the wood off my person.

“Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

And I did.

15

The bed was actually comfortable, because there were no goblins in residence. I’m not sure where they were, but then again, I didn’t care. I stretched out and stared at the ceiling.

I had a lot to think about.

And I told myself that I had a lot to do, still. Busywork that wouldn’t have mattered to a man like I’d been, but now had to matter to the man I’d become.

I pulled out a little notebook and looked over the notes I’d made from talking to Baltu about his visit.

One thing stood out.

The Enderun.

Crap.

I needed to visit the college before leaving the city, get an update on their research of that mystery lizard venom that had taken out a good chunk of Coggeshall. That had resulted in two members of my council being in a vegetative state. I had to hope that someone had discovered a cure. It seemed doubtful, being that if there’d been progress like that, someone would have reached out to me, but still… maybe…

“Wasn’t sure I’d find you here,” came a familiar voice.

I looked across the dark room to see Clyde the elf sitting against an open window.

“And yet, here you are,” I replied.

“Figured you’d be heading out soon.”

“You figured right. Can I help you with something?”

“Well, we need to have a talk before you leave.”

“Have you not noticed that I’ve been trying to give you the opportunity to bring up whatever it is you’re here to talk about? But maybe I’ve been a little too dark on that. So, let’s try again: what the fuck is up, Clyde Hatchett with too many tees?”

He gave me something of a smile and walked over to the bed. He pulled a chair around and sat at the foot, then put his feet up on the chest there.

“Are we allies?” he asked. “Or was that just a temporary thing, for convenience?”

“Seems as if we are,” I said, sitting up so I didn’t feel like some weird invalid. “Why? Did something happen that makes you question our, what, relationship?”

“More that I think we needed clarification.”

“Okay, clarify.”

“What is your intent in this new world of ours?”

“Jumping right in, eh?”

“You made it seem like time was… short.”

“Suppose that’s true. How honest do you want me to be?”

“Well, we should be wholly transparent, if we’re allies.”

“Full-on truth mode? I’d prefer to just fucking fish.”

“Fucking fish? Like, um…?”

I frowned at him.

He smiled at me.

“I thought I could make it work,” Clyde said. “But⁠—”

“Your jokes need work,” I said. “All I really wanted was a calm life here. Something relaxed, without all the violence from my previous run.”

“Man, you’re failing rather spectacularly then.”

“You think it’d be possible for someone to just drop into a magical world, get a little overpowered, and then do nothing but fish?”

“Maybe?”

“Seems impossible to me.”

“Maybe you went to the wrong place.”

“Where’s the right place?”

“Probably not the mountains. Maybe like a seaside resort town. Or a place on the ocean that grows something… sweet?”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s possible somewhere. It’s not possible here.”

“So, being that you’re not doing that, what is it you want to do? Besides fish.”

“Make a safe place for people to live without fear.”

“See, I’d peg that as more impossible than just fishing.”

“Maybe. But there are more people who want that to happen as well. Pretty much just me who wants me to just be fishing.”

“I don’t know. Lots of people might prefer if you were just fishing.”

“Ha.”

“Still, I can see the appeal of making a safe spot for people here. And that could get you to where you’re not in the violence business.”

“I hope so. It’s what I’m trying, at the moment.”

“So that’s the point of your holding?”

“It’s a spot where it seems possible. Got some geographic advantages I can leverage to keep the valley safer than, um, other places. I’m not out to change the world or make some sweeping massive, um, difference. Just giving people an option.”

“Altruistic.”

“Maybe. You have a goal? A plan for life two?”

“I’m…” he paused, and looked out the window, “still working on the whole goal of life thing.”

I smiled at that. “Kinda tough to determine if we’re aligned in our ideals if you don’t have any.”

“Is that what it takes to see if we’re allies?” Clyde asked.

“I think we’re already allies. But I also think you might be making a bigger deal out of that.”

“I am. I don’t want to find myself at odds with someone I didn’t expect.”

“I mean, me neither.”

“Then say we are.”

“Are we in fucking kindergarten? You need me to say that we’re friends out loud? I think we are, Clyde, but I’m not in your head, so I can’t tell. And frankly, what we seem to be doing is a thousand miles apart. So what the fuck does it really matter how we work together?”

“Because you’re one of the most powerful people in this damn place, Montana. I have to worry about you because, unlike you, I don’t have any power. Not on paper. I have to do it all myself.”

“You think I rely on my title?”

“I think it helps more than you realize.”

“It’s a pain in the ass is what–”

“And it also means you can act the way you do without worrying anything’s going to happen to you.”

“You’re telling me you’re different here than you were back in Brooklyn?”

“Bronx.”

“Same thing.”

“That might be the first time you’ve said something where I’m actually considering killing you.”

“Then I apologize, but for those of us not from ‘The City,’ there’s a rather big overlap there.”

“You know what sucks? I don’t even know the neighborhoods of the Midwest where you’re from to make some sort of comparison.”

“Yeah, I get it — nothing compares to the Big Apple.”

“Got that right.”

I rolled my eyes.

He smiled at me.

And in that moment, I realized maybe we were more friends than I’d thought.

He shook his head. “I think I changed some,” he said. “I’m not, I mean, I had to. It’s very different here.”

“For sure.”

“And I worry about pushing the people here to change in a way they don’t want to, or need to.”

“Got to admit, I’ve not bothered to think through things like that.”

“I mean this in the least offensive manner you can possibly take it–”

“You’re about to say something about me not being capable of big, complicated thoughts, aren’t you?”

“I wasn’t going to call you stupid — you’re obviously not. But yes, word on the street is you’re not fond of using the brain when the fist is available.”

“Can’t say they’re that wrong about that.”

“It hasn’t really proven true, though. I think you’re doing yourself a disservice.”

“This was a real nice conversation happening here. No reason to get it all mucked up with self-help bullshit.”

“Excuse me for saying something nice.”

“You are forgiven. Now, are we done here? You wanted to make sure we’re allies. I’m giving you what assurances I can that we are, so now you can leap out the window into the night and do whatever it is you do?”

“I mean, that’s basically everything. Unless you want to ask me anything.”

“You say that like I should ask you something.”

“I figured you might have need of me.”

“How’s that?” I asked, and then I paused. “You’ve been here a spell, right?”

“The city? Vuldranni? Your room?”

“The first two.”

“A while, yeah.”

“And mostly in this city?”

“There was a strange and somewhat unfortunate journey that took too long, but otherwise… why?”

“I need someone I can trust to act as my proxy in the Senate. Someone to vote for me in all the stuff that comes up while I’m back home.”

“And you think I can find someone you can trust while you can’t?”

“I’m up against a bit of a time crunch.”

“Oh. How tight?”

“Leaving tomorrow.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Trying to get out before the coronation begins.”

“And miss all those balls?”

“I mean, I like a good ball, but balls, plural, not my favorite.”

“I bet. So I’d have the night to do it?”

“Something along those lines. You up for it?”

His eyes glossed over a second, as if he was reading something, and I frowned.

“What about that?” he said softly.

“What?” I asked.

“Got a quest. Seems as if Glaton herself wants me to find you someone. Before you ask, yeah, the quest was offered by Glaton.”

“The country?”

“I’m assuming, yeah.”

“You accepting it?”

“How could I not?” he replied, hopping to his feet and heading over to the window. “Any more information on what you want this person to do?”

“Vote the way I would, live here and not fuck the place up. I suppose not sully good name of the house of Coggeshall more than me.”

“That’s it?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“They get to live here?”

“They do.”

“Are there limits?”

“On what?”

“On what kind of person they can be?”

“Not that I know of.”

“You know, you’d think you’d have a few more details about this.”

“You would, but you’d be disappointed, seeing as I don’t.”

“Always a pleasure, your dukeness,” the elf said, stepping up onto the windowsill and leaping out into the night.

“Make good choices, elfboy,” I called out as he disappeared.

A go fuck yourself seemed to float back on the wind.

I chuckled, and laid back down, happy to have one thing off my plate.

“Thank you, Glaton,” I said.

The country didn’t bother to respond.

16

Morning came quickly because for once, I actually slept. Not the whole night, but enough. I got up before the sun and threw the goblins who’d inevitably ended up in my bed out of bed, and went to the gardens to run through some exercises. A few forms I remembered from my training with Carpophorus, plus some stretches, and a bit of jogging. Which was somewhat pointless because if I didn’t have stamina, did I need to train to keep up my, um, nothing?

I waited for a moment, expecting the universe to give me a quest to investigate that idle thought, but nothing came.

Instead, a footman walked out carrying a silver tray, upon which were a towel and a small card folded in half so it stood up.

“Good morning, your grace,” he said, stopping before me and nodding his head. “You have a caller.”

“A caller?” I asked.

He gestured toward the card with his eyes.

I picked up the card.

Just said Nox Kvist on it.

“Who’s this?” I asked.

“Apologies, your grace. I did not think to conduct anything more than a cursory examination of the name on the card, and thus I cannot answer your question. But I did bring you a towel if you wished to dry yourself prior to entertaining this visitor of yours. Unless, of course–”

I took the towel and wiped the sweat off my chest.

“Might I call for a valet to bring you a shirt?” the footman asked. “Or pants?”

“Uh, sure. Thanks.” I said.

He had a point — usually best to be fully dressed prior to meeting a stranger. At present I didn’t have on much beyond my undergarments. I hadn’t expected other people to be up, and certainly not anyone to be visiting before I had time to bathe and dress. I’m not sure why I hadn’t expected that. Just, well, it seemed so quiet…

“Actually, why don’t you get this Kvist character some breakfast?” I said, walking quickly past the footman who was already halfway to the house. “I’ll get cleaned up for real and then, um…”

“Meet him?” the footman asked.

“Exactly.”

“Excellent, your grace.”

I made a mental note to ask Valamir if his staff were always this smart-assed, or if they saved it for me.

17

While I wanted to just do a quick rinse off, the bath maidens, Galena and Elmira, weren’t having it. I was going to get a solid scrub down, and my only win was getting them to agree to a cold bath so I wouldn’t get sweaty again. But that and some clean clothes made me look marginally better than I had in recent memory — at least somewhere in the neighborhood of presentable. Almost like I might have a reason to be in this house and in this neighborhood.

In the dining room I saw a middle-aged man sitting at the table with evidence of a pastry on the plate in front of him as well as on the ends of his drooping salt-and-pepper mustache. His nose was buried in a huge book, one hand hooked around a mug of some hot beverage.

“I am quite content with what I have,” he said without looking up, “I require no more–”

“Well, thank god for that! I’m all out of vodka.”

He glanced up, confused.

Then saw me.

And he stood up.

“My, um, your grace, and I–” he stammered and reached out his hand, I think to shake hands with me, but he still had his cup of coffee in it.

“Might want to keep that,” I said with a smile.

“Oh, right. Yes.”

He quickly set the cup down and put his hand back up.

“Nox Kvist,” he said.

“Montana Coggeshall,” I replied.

“Yes, the duke of Coggeshall.”

“Yeah, that’s the current, um, distinction.”

“I understand you are looking for someone to represent you within the Senate when you are, well, not here?”

“Correct. Clyde told you that?”

“He did.”

“And do you, um, have any bonafides? Or, um…”

“Not exactly. I do have a missive here, from, uh,” he started patting himself down, very obviously looking for a letter, “... uh, just a moment.”

He started searching frantically, going so far as to check under his chair.

I leaned over and pulled a folded bit of parchment from within the pages of the book he’d been reading.

“This what you’re looking for?” I asked, holding it out to him.

He took it from me and then glanced at it. Then he passed it back to me.

“Right,” he replied. “A note from my, um, friend? Boss? The specifics of our relationship have been murky at best, and are⁠—”

“Do I need to know to read the letter?”

“I would imagine that you would appreciate any and all information about me and Clyde Hatchett in order to know, um⁠—”

“Who you are?”

“Yes.”

“And it’s in here?”

“That is the letter that tells you who I am.”

“Got it,” I said, sitting down and sliding my finger to break open the wax seal. “Just gonna take a quick read.”

This is Nox Kvist. He’s a bit of a mess, and not from here. But not like where you’re from, either. He’s from a different country, same general galaxy, despite his tendency of being a space cadet. Only real issue is that his country of origin happens to be one Glaton’s at war with right now, so that could make things awkward. He doesn’t have much in the way of loyalties to others in Glaton, minus me and mine, which means he should be cool with serving you. Just try not to kill him. Or have him killed, since I do like him. He is very good at research, loves books, and has shown interest in the Senate, so I think this could be a really good match.

I spent an extra moment making sure to absorb everything in the letter, and then set it down on the table.

“Do you know what this job is?” I asked.

“Um, I believe it is being your proxy in the Senate.”

“Correct, yeah. And you know that if you vote the wrong way, you die?”

“By wrong way, you mean against your wishes?”

“Correct.”

“I recognize that I would be there only to vote as you. I have no desire to exercise my own feelings on things. I am very happy doing as you request, so I believe I will be fine. And by fine I mean I will remain alive.”

“Lovely.”

“Do you have — I mean, is there a document in which your beliefs or positions or goals are recorded such that I can take positions that mirror those?”

“No.”

“Would that be something you might put in place? I would hate to guess your positions⁠—”

“I’m pretty easy with, um, positions.”

“I daresay I do not believe you. I think you probably have strong feelings on things that are not quite… I will stop there, being that I am not in the position to speak to you on, um, positions. Now I feel that I may have said the word ‘position’ too many times, which might cause you to reconsider putting me in this position.”

“Listen, Bub, you got a huge advantage in that my timetable doesn’t allow me to do a whole lot of looking for anyone else. Beyond that, if Clyde vouches for you and you want the gig, I’ll give it to you. I don’t know what it entails in terms of, um, payment or whatever, but let me know what you need and I’ll get it for you. You can live here if you want, and then you have to go to all the Senate meetings and vote my twenty chairs. As far as positions and voting, we’ll get you set up with a paired journal and when you have a question, ask. If you don’t know, don’t do that vote. Um… any questions?”

“I will take the position.”

“No questions, then. Welcome to the, um, family.”

“I did a little research on the position,” Nox said with a wide smile, “and whilst I feel it would be ideal to just do this on a handshake, I believe some paperwork is in order.”

“Wouldn’t be Glaton if we didn’t bury ourselves in paper, right?”

“It does seem to be how the Empire runs.”

“I don’t suppose you have that paperwork with you?”

“I do not, no. But I would be more than happy to go and sort that for you.”

“Yeah, do that.”

“Of course, your grace,” he said, giving me a slight bow. “I look forward to being in your service.”

“I, um, look forward to it as well?” I replied. “I’m not really sure what to say there.”

“I believe what you said was more than sufficient,” he said, and hurried from the room.

I leaned back in my chair, feeling like I’d accomplished something.

There was a quick knock at the door, and Eliza peeked in.

“Do you have time for any interviews today?” she asked. “Or do you prefer that I handle it all?”

“I found someone.”

“You did what now?”

“I found a person to handle the proxy nonsense.”

She walked all the way into the room, and raised an eyebrow at me.

“When did this happen?” she asked.

“Just now.”

“Who did you choose?”

“Someone that the elfkid who works with Valamir recommended.”

“Ah.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Why would it be a problem? I have no idea who he is or what he has done or why I should feel one way or the other about it.”

“You don’t seem to be happy about it.”

“I wish I had known I didn’t have to do all this work to find someone.”

“I didn’t know until just now.”

“I didn’t know you asked someone else for help.”

“It happened late last night.”

“How late?”

“Very.”

“Where were you?”

“In my room.”

“And the elf visited you there?”

“He did. He’s got this bad habit of coming and going through windows regardless of if he’s allowed to do that.”

“And you just let him do that?”

“He’s a close personal friend of the Emperor, who has also let him do that without consequence. You think I should make an issue out of it?”

“Is he a better friend of the Emperor than you are?”

“I want to believe we’re different, but I’m willing to be Valamir likes elfboy more than he likes me. And I’m okay with that. Also, bigger point to make here: I do feel bad about not letting you know I asked someone else to find me a candidate. So I am sorry.”

“Thank you — I just wanted that small apology. Maybe it’s silly, but I have been feeling a bit useless lately.”

“If you want something to do, you can accompany me to the Enderun to see if the smartypants there have figured out a way to cure or heal Clarissa and Nathalie from the weird Night Goblin Cave Lizard venom.”

“I can do that,” she said. “Or I can make sure everything is packed for our imminent departure.”

“Oh, right — there’s that as well.”

“Do you have a definite time we’re leaving?”

“No, I think we’ll just mosey out of the city and find a field so Fritz can pick us up. Just need to get out of here before the invitations to the coronation are sent out.”

“I can’t believe all of this is just to avoid some parties.”

“It’s not just the parties. It’s weeks of parties and all sorts of social brouhaha that–”

She held her hand up.

“No need to explain, your grace,” she said. Then she did a little curtsy. “I will prepare for our departure.”

“Great,” I said.

“Can I have the bag?”

“Oh, right.”

I took the bag from my belt and tossed it across the table. She caught it from the air, whirled around, and left the room.

I was going to say that I was going to the Enderun, but by then she’d gone, and it felt weird announcing my proposed actions to myself.

18

Itried to request a horse from the stables, but the grooms told me they had no saddles that might fit a ‘rider of my… type’ (whatever that meant), but there was a carriage available to take me wherever I might desire.

One of Valamir’s old carriages had already been stripped of all of its badging, and it was waiting for me in the circular drive by the time I got from the stables back to the main house. Though, why they couldn’t let me get in at the stables instead of making me walk all the way back through the house was beyond me.

The driver, a smart-looking young woman, held the reins to two huge brown horses.

“The Enderun,” I said, getting into the carriage.

“Yes your grace,” she said, nodding.

I heard a loud tsk noise, which I didn’t think could have come out of such a small human, but the horses knew the command, and leaned into their harnesses to get my bulk moving. I felt a little bad for them — the grooms had made me feel like I was too heavy, and that me think the horses were forced to work hard.

Then again, it’s not like they were small, prance-y horses — Valamir clearly thought little of delicate, pointless ponies, and his carriages needed to be pulled by big studly stallions — and given the number of seats in the carriage, it had to weigh less with just me as opposed to when every seat was filled with an Eliza.

Probably.

Just one of the ridiculous things that flitted through my mind as I traversed through the city, watching the change in neighborhoods, going from the low-traffic, huge-home, posh people’s point, to the government district with massive buildings filled with paper and the people who push it, before finally arriving in what had to be the college area of town. Old, ornate buildings, immaculately kept, and semi-private green spaces where I could see young folks reading.

The gaggles of young people in robes carrying books really gave it away that we were in the academy neighborhood. Though, it’s not like I had a huge amount of experience with places of higher learning. Just that one time when I’d been out near the University of Michigan, moving a rather large supply of goods from one group of dissatisfied citizens to another group of citizens, unhappy for entirely different reasons, but willing to pay top dollar for said gently used goods. I wound up spending a little time learning about the history of France, since I’d told a certain buxom co-ed I needed help studying French history, which happened to be her focus, and “we” had a final coming up.

Now, did she ask me what class I was in or any sort of specifics regarding the class to confirm that I was actually in the same class as her?

No.

Did I venture up any specifics as to who my professor might be?

No, nor did she press this.

Did I offer any reasons I needed additional help when there was both a professor and two teaching assistants attached to the class (apparently) to offer professional assistance?

I did not.

What I did was spend a lovely series of evenings learning a teensy bit about the history of France, and a dash more about the geography of the French Alps. Though, most of my attention was focused on the geography of Jessica Wise's Alps. And some of the low-lying areas.

And while I appreciated studying those mountains and valleys, I retained almost no useful information from my time there. But it was a grand way to spend time while I waited for petty criminals to finish negotiating with other petty criminals. I liked pretending to be a college student, liked wandering the gorgeous campus, imagining the simplicity of only worrying about papers due, frat parties to attend, and tailgates to host. Until Ms. Wise found out the truth of the matter: I was not, nor had I ever been, a student. In actuality, I was drug-running, gun-running, and running from the law. She was shocked, but said she would continue seeing me, exploring our geographies and studying our budding history, if I stopped doing those things.

I explained that if I stopped doing those things, I would no longer be me, and she would be better off spending her evenings tutoring a silicone replacement.

Jess didn't take it too well, and frankly, I don't blame her. I think she had actually liked who I was, and I, meanwhile, had liked what she was. But that doesn’t always mean things will work out, and I was immature and filled with the zeal of an outlaw who’d yet to feel the full implications of their actions.

So yeah. From my brief interlude at a college, it seemed like it was very similar to the Enderun.

Except here, I was actually valued. As soon as I said who I was, the assistant dean of academics, Nathan Winchester, came along to escort me down to the researchers who’d been tasked with my problem. He brought me to a lab in a corner of the building.

I assumed it’d be a room full of cauldrons and fog and eyeless newts, but it wasn’t anything like that. It was far closer to what I remembered from high school. Long worktables and lots of glassware, some of which contained bubbling brews, just with a lot of magic equipment in place of the technology I was used to.

Two doctors oversaw the lab. When we walked in, both of them looked over, confused.

“What are you doing in our lab?” one of them asked. He deserved an engineering degree (and maybe even had one) for the masterful job he’d done using what little hair was left to cover his bulbous skull. I could only see the gaps, since I was tall enough to get a full overhead view.

“Doctor Finell,” Dean Winchester said, nodding at Combover, “and Doctor Bessick,” he gestured at the other man, who was tall, thin, mostly bald and seemingly okay with it, “this is Duke of Coggeshall, Montana Coggeshall.”

“A pleasure,” Bessick said. He started to extend his hand, but then snapped it back. “Best not shake, actually. I fear I may have touched something unpleasant, and we are still… um, waiting.”

“He’s joking,” Finnell explained.

“I am–” Bessick started, but Finnell gave a none-too-subtle kick to his fellow doctor’s shins.

“We would never do something quite so unprofessional as experimenting on ourselves. Dean Winchester, why don’t you let us know to what we owe the pleasure of the duke’s company today?”

“I asked you to look at some venom,” I said.

“Venom… I am afraid you need to be a little more specific than that. We do have a number of research requests and⁠—”

“Coggeshall?” Bessick said.

“Yes,” Winchester said quickly. “This is the Duke of Coggeshall, and⁠—”

“Coggeshall,” Finnell said, “isn’t that⁠—”

“That’s the one–” Bessick started at the same time, going over to a desk and flipping open a book. “Right, here.”

Finnell went over to look at the book.

“Oh,” Finnell said, not sounding pleased.

“What?” I asked. “Did you find something out?”

“We did. Though not, um, what I think you would be interested in. We looked at the venom, and were working toward a full test, but then there was an, um–”

“An involuntary human trial,” Bessick offered.

“What?” Winchester snapped.

“One of our assistants accidentally added some of the venom to his tea, which, um, had a rather deleterious effect,” Finnell clarified quickly.

“He died.”

“And yet! His sacrifice was not in vain! He nobly allowed us to continue our research on him while⁠—”

“We tried to save him.”

Finnell turned on his colleague. “Will you just let me talk?” He yelled.

“You are being–”

“I am not. I am trying to explain what happened.”

“Let’s all stop,” I said firmly. “You can be honest with me.”

“I am doing that, your grace.”

“How about he talks,” I said, pointing to Bessick.

Finnell threw up his hands and stormed over to the other side of the room.

“Some straight talk, please?” I asked.

Bessick sighed.

“A student working with us was, as we said, poisoned by his own, what? Incompetence? We did what we could to save him, put every last resource of the academy behind it, but it was all for naught,” he said quickly, not meeting my eyes.

“So you found out nothing?”

“Well, we haven’t discovered exactly what you might be looking for, but whatever this is, it’s vile stuff. It attacks the mind, and through that, the rest of the body. It is very dangerous when consumed. Moreso, we think, than if it merely enters through a bite or a scratch. Based on what we saw, what that young man went through, even though we managed to forestall some physical damage from the venom, the attacks on the mind had been ongoing, and sufficient damage was done such that there was no coming back. Even though his body was continuing to live, there was nothing, erm, how to put this⁠—”

“He was braindead.”

“In essence, yes.”

“And there’s no way, um, there’s no cure?”

“Not that we have found, no.”

“Not totally true!” Finell called out.

“That is not a cure, it is a preventive,” Bessick snapped back.

“Explain,” I said.

“Repeated exposure to the venom dulls its effects,” Finnell said, walking back to the group.

“In mice,” Bessick added.

“Also rats and—” Finnell snapped.

“It’s all in there. What we have tested and the effects therein.”

He pointed to a notebook that looked to have quite a few papers added to it. I picked it up and flipped it open. It was filled to the brim with tiny, neat handwriting, detailing, apparently, everything they knew so far.

“That is our proprietary work,” Finell said.

“Relax, bub,” I said without looking up. “I’m just giving it a read.”

Which I was, but it’s not like it was an easy read. It was dense scientific gobbledygook to me — nothing that I was reading was making a lot of sense. So I set it back down.

“So basically,” I said, “it’s horrible stuff that kills you if you touch it.”

“Ingest it,” Bessick said.

“And in what we might term sufficient quantities,” Finnell added. “It is not quite as dangerous in that regard. You may handle it safely⁠—”

“Unless you have any open cuts or wounds, at which point⁠—”

“Got it,” I said, trying hard to not think about the people back in Coggeshall who we’d been keeping alive, thinking they might come back to us. “Are you, um, going to keep working at it? Do you think there’s any coming back from the, um, braindeadedness?”

“No,” Bessick said.

“Let us not be so hasty,” Finnell countered. “Is there funding for such a study?”

“There could be,” I said. “If you think you can figure something out.”

“I feel there is quite a bit here left to unpack. If there is a patron willing to fund something, I am sure⁠—”

“Keep at it,” I said, turning away. “I’ll pay. Just don’t use it to kill more of your students.”

“Of course!” Finnell said, clapping his hands.

Bessick sighed, loud enough for me to hear it.

I walked out of the room. Something was definitely off with Finnell and Bessick, and it’d be a minor miracle if the two managed to continue working together. But what else could I do? I had to do something.

And now I needed to get the fuck out of this city.

19

Igot all the way back outside and to my waiting carriage, only to see someone waiting for me, wearing the uniform of an Imperial messenger. He informed me the Emperor had summoned me to the Imperial palace.

Which was not on my to-do list.

So I was grumpy about it.

But Valamir was the boss, and there was a nonzero possibility that he could get me out of the city faster than anyone else.

So I sent my carriage home and climbed into an Imperial carriage to go to see the Emperor, thinking I might get a chance to chat with the messenger, but he grabbed onto the back of the carriage and rode on the outside. It looked like a lot more fun, so I tried to join him, but I was given a very dark look and informed that I needed to get back inside at once.

When I arrived the Emperor was at the end of a long table, reading documents and holding court with a bunch of bigwigs. As soon as I walked in the room, he looked up and excused everyone else.

“Come with me, your grace,” he said.

“Of course, your Imperial majesty,” I replied with a slight bow.

“Somehow it is worse when you do that than when you do nothing.”

“I didn’t mean it, um, to be rude or anything.”

“I know — I think it just comes off that way,” he said, leading me into what appeared to be a more private meeting room behind the main meeting room, which seemed a little weird because he’d just sent everyone else out of the main room, which had made it private. And it’s not like this room was that private, because his Imperial Guards came with us, as always.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Did you get all done you needed to get done?”

“Yes. I think. Maybe?”

He sighed. “Well, from what I’ve been told, you have.”

“Thank you? Is that why I’m here?”

“You are here because I am doing what I can to hasten your departure.” He walked around the desk in the smaller office and continued through a back door. Which meant we weren’t bothering with this as a private meeting space.

“What do you–”

He stopped and shot me a look.

“I need to get the coronation going so I can get the rest of the government moving again and end this war. Or wars. I’ve received unofficial word from Kronth that they are unhappy with the way things wound up–”

“Because their king’s betrothed died?”

“I think that likely has something to do with it, yes. The why is not really important at the moment, and before you tell me we’ve spoken on this, I know, but I’m still speaking on this because I need to think on this and so, welcome to being this walk’s sounding board.”

I gave him a half-smile. “Happy to listen,” I said.

“Excellent. I doubt there is anything we might do to forestall the resumption of hostilities with Kronth.”

“You’re not thinking of sending me there, are you?” I asked.

“I had considered it, but not at the moment, no,” he replied, and we started walking again, going through a hidden door and then down a small set of stairs. “But I shall keep you in reserve for when I prefer a massacre.”

“Can you really just order me around like that?”

He tilted his head just a little, pausing mid-step so I had to put on the brakes hard to keep from running into the Emperor and knocking him down the stairs.

“Are you unclear on our relationship now that I am Emperor?”

“I mean, maybe? Kind of only ran in democratic circles before this.”

“I suppose it depends on how you would like to understand it, and, to an extent, how I, as Emperor, can back up my demands. There are very few restraints on me — I am able to do whatsoever I feel. So can I order you to go and fight? Yes. Can I force you? That’s not as clear. But I am not inclined to rule in that fashion. I think that leads to instability and irritation amongst my people.”

“You want me to want to do the dishes.”

He frowned.

“Forget it,” I said.

“I will try,” he replied, moving on. “You selected an unusual choice as your senate proxy.”

“You disapprove?”

“I have had to intercede already.”

“How so?”

“Were you aware the man was not a citizen of the Empire?”

“I, um, maybe?” I said, not wanting to admit I’d seen that as an advantage.

“I have had to make him a citizen, which is not exactly much of an ask, but I feel it was something you should’ve known.”

“Thank you.”

“I have also made sure the paperwork will be processed promptly. In fact, I did that for all of your paperwork.”

“You know, with all your new power, you could just reduce the amount of paperwork required in the Empire.”

“No. There is a measure of power within paperwork, and I would hate to see it go.”

“Okay then.”

“I also arranged for your household, such as it is, to be here for your departure.”

“To be where?”

“On the palace grounds.”

“We’re leaving right now?”

“Yes. Largely because I am most curious about the means of travel.”

“Which means?”

“Apparently it is a bird.”

“Fritz? You want him to land here–”

“I do.”

“Oh, um, I guess.”

“Thank you.”

“What about the worm?”

“What worm is that?”

“You know.”

He gave me a smile.

“Yes. Perhaps I do. That creature shall remain here, under Imperial control. I fear it is something rather dangerous, and while I know you have no ill intent, I worry you are not as careful as is necessary with a creature such as the ear worm.”

“Hey now,” I replied. “I know that’s true, but still…”

His chuckle echoed a little in the stone stairwell.

“Glad you could see my side of things.”

“I’m aware I have more than a few shortcomings.”

“Perhaps you can take some time to work on them.”

“Let me pencil that in.”

“Might need more than a pencil for that,” he said, getting to a landing and pushing at the wall to reveal an outside garden. “And here we are.”

20

Everything moved so fast that I had trouble even paying attention to it all. One second, I was walking down a secret staircase with the Emperor of Glaton, and the next, Amber was whistling to call down Fritz. I worried about Fritz coming into this situation, if he was going to freak out about it. And I was kind of freaking out about I introducing the Emperor to my giant fuck-off bird, because man, were all of my instincts convinced this massive creature coming in was a giant threat.

I was weirded out until I realized that there must be some sort of innate pull between the Valamir and me as Imperial hero. I felt an overwhelming need to protect him, for the good of the Empire. The man was tied to the Empire in a whole fucked up way, if you really thought about it, where he was the end-all and be-all of everything.

Fritz landed, and he was his usual jolly self. Which is a strange way to describe a monstrous bird the size of an airplane, but Fritz is kind of just... he does what he does. He swooped in, his harness already on and with everyone already aboard. Even the goblins had been strapped on in what looked to be a remarkably uncomfortable way.

I waved at Philippe, and then at Eliza. Fritz and the Emperor were having a weird sort of discussion. Fritz scratched out messages, absolutely tearing apart the beautiful palace lawn.

I just stood there, bewildered. And without really realizing how, I got on the bird. Valamir gave me a little fucking smile, the kind of smirk that immediately made me think, "Motherfucker, what did you do?"

"I just have a little skill," he explained, reading my body language. “A perk of the new position. I am able to hasten certain things by making individuals more amenable to going along with what is happening.”

I sat up straight in my captain's chair and glared at Valamir. “So this was all some bit of mind fuckery, Your Royal Imperial Highness?”

“I don't know that I would use that terminology to describe it, but yes, I used this scenario to experiment a little, to see what it would be like.”

“I kind of feel like I should have had some say in that.”

“It would not have been much of an experiment if you knew it was going to happen.”

I held up my hand to give him the bird, but honestly, he had a decent point there.

"I will... don't do it again," I said. “It was weird, and I didn’t like it.”

“I doubt I will; it was a bit difficult. You seem to take more effort than anticipated. And this was all with things you were going to do, anyway. I was just trying to push everything along. Otherwise, you might wind up getting sucked into some other quest, going somewhere else when we both know what you need to do is…”

“…get back home,” I finished for him.

"Exactly. So, my most esteemed friend, as Emperor of Glaton, I thank you for what you have done for the Empire, and I send you home to fix what is broken in Coggeshall that keeps you from my coronation. But I do understand it requires your immediate supervision."

"Yeah," I said, "it does. I don't know what's there or what's wrong, but I'm sure it needs my help."

"Excellent. I have briefed certain things to your de facto chancellor.”

“Knox Fist?" I asked.

"No, no, Lady Northwood's there," he said, and pointed at Eliza. She gave a little wave. "She will be in contact with me regarding certain things."

"She's your spy?"

“Oh no. No, she is more an obvious connection point between us, in the communication chain. And besides, I would not tell you who my spies are.”

“That would be pointless, wouldn't it? I mean, wait — spies? You have multiple?”

"Maybe," Valamir said. With that, he patted my leg, gave a little wave, and walked away. He met an older man at a gate, and they immediately became engrossed in conversation.

Fritz's eyeball looked back at me. I took it to mean he was asking if I was ready to take off. I shrugged.

“All right, let's go,” I said. “No stops, straight on till morning."

He spread out his giant wings, and we flew into the sky.

21

Ithought I’d be able to withstand all the whining coming from the back, and we could make a direct flight. But apparently people really do have to eat and go to the bathroom and all. And to be fair, I can imagine Fritz not being thrilled at having people urinate and defecate all over him, even if there was a saddle to prevent it from getting on his feathers.

So we left close to the middle of the day and went straight north through the mountains, where we saw a really cool castle. Had I been sitting with somebody instead of by myself, I probably would have been like, "Hey man, cool castle. Eliza, do you know the history of that cool castle?” And she would have responded with whatever it was. But she was busy having that conversation with Amber, and I felt — eh, not jealous, but isolated, irritated, alone. I felt lonely. And I had to work really hard not to spiral into thinking about the old world, since that always seemed to happen on these little flights.

We started to hook west, so that we were headed northwest. One advantage of Fritz Air versus conventional jet flying is that we weren't going at speeds that would wind up with us smashing face-first into a cliff. He had a lot more maneuverability in the air. And so flying was rather pleasant. Lots of phenomenal vistas. If I was the sort who could paint or had a camera, I could probably have recorded it for other people. But instead I just enjoyed it for myself and sometimes enjoyed the screams of the goblins when they woke up from between their bouts of terror-induced coma. Fun times.

We spotted a cozy valley with a waterfall and a little lake, and landed in a meadow. Fritz went off to hunt for his dinner, and Eliza pulled out food that she had very cleverly packed so we could have a little picnic. Then I set up tents for the ladies, and also Philippe. Then the goblins all piled around me and we went to sleep. Or at least they slept. I laid in a pile of goblins and wondered what the fuck was going on.

22

Naturally, that's when things got a little weird. Suddenly I wasn't laying there amongst the goblins. I wasn't even laying. I was in the air, and then I was in the lake, and then I was on an inflatable floatie in the lake, with a bottle of root beer tucked into the inflatable cupholder.

And even though it was nighttime and it should have been cold, I felt a warm breeze. When I turned toward where it was blowing from, I noticed a man bobbing around next to me in his own floatie. I wasn’t expecting to ever see Mr. Paul in a bathing suit, but there he was. And of course it wasn't any sort of normal bathing suit, because no, Mr. Paul couldn't do something average. Uh-uh. He was in one of those 1920s style, full-body things. Which somehow he could pull off and make look amazing. For everything else that Mr. Paul had going for him, maybe his best asset was his fashion sense.

"Quite nice here, isn't it?" he said.

"Sure," I replied to the god talking to me. "Nice to see you. How you doing? Hey, Montana, great job. Thanks for saving the entire world."

“I was getting to those things, yes,” he said with a smirk. “But just look at this lovely space we've found. This little bit of heaven on Earth. Or heaven on Vuldranni, as some might call it.”

“Is heaven a thing?”

“Can we not get into a cosmological debate?”

“I guess.”

“Thank you. After all, there are so many other things we must talk about.”

“Are these going to be things we're not allowed to talk about?”

“Well, some are, yes. I have a lot of gratitude you for what you did in the capital. It was — well, I don't want to say touch and go, since that makes it seem less serious than it was. But there were some long odds on success. That we are here having this conversation now is a testament to what you have done. I promise I will show adequate appreciation.”

“This isn't about to become some weird fanfic ship monstrosity, is it?”

"Oh no, no, no, no," he said, chuckling. “We are certainly not a pair people are shipping.”

“What?”

“The important thing," he said, ignoring my confusion, "is that you are returning to a place you think you have done a lot for, and while this is in some ways true, I need you to know that it is not enough.”

“Wow. Fuck you too, man.”

“I wish there was a more polite means of expressing the problems we face. There is much that must be done, and there is little time to do it. In this last trip of yours, you have begun to see some of what we are up against.”

“What, cults trying to destroy the world?”

“Yes, exactly that.”

“That's what we're up against?”

"That is but one facet of we are up against. And really, they were incompetent fools. They had so little planned, as evidenced by how easily they were dismantled. I daresay anything we will come against in the future will be significantly more complicated than that simple matter. You should never expect to be able to simply destroy your opponents in a single night. It won’t as neat as this again."

"Well, that sucks."

"Yes, you could say it does."

"I did say it does."

"Okay, then. Let's agree that it sucks, Montana. Are you happy that I have agreed to your statement of suckage?"

"I guess. I kind of feel like I'm operating blind here."

“That is because you are. And you must. And it does, to use your rather vulgar terminology, suck. I hope you understand how much I wish I could tell you more. But⁠—”

“It's against the rules.”

“Yes, it is very much against the rules. And now that we are no longer the underdogs, now that you have demonstrated your powers and capabilities, we are going to be scrutinized more closely than ever before. We will no longer have graces afforded to us, because there are those who are depending on us to fail in order for their own ventures to succeed.”

“Man, what the fuck is happening back in that celestial realm you gods live in?”

“More than I could ever hope to explain to you.”

“Awesome.”

“It's quite a mess.”

“Sounds like it.”

“But this is what always happens when we do these things we do.”

“That seems to have worked out okay in the past, I guess.”

"It depends on your definition of okay. The world has continued to exist. So yes, we have made it through a few cycles with no horrific consequences. But there are some who say the time has come — he stopped himself, and sort of stared out into the sky for a moment. “Even saying that, I may have strayed from what I am permitted to tell you. So, instead, let us forget that pointless chatter and move on to the true purpose of my visit⁠—”

“A pep talk?”

“A pep talk?” He smirked. “You need one?”

“I mean, maybe? Can’t say I’m feeling overly hopeful about things at the moment.”

“Despite your victory?”

“Well, I was, but then you came and dropped a monsoon on my parade. Now I feel like shit.”

“Ah. That was… oops.”

“Oops?”

Mr. Paul cleared his throat.

“I am here, Montana, to present to you a small token of my gratitude,” he said. “And as well, give you a moment to think of a boon you could request from me.”

“You can give me a boon?”

“Your actions have been of sufficient merit that you have, in effect, earned one. So because of that, I will be receiving additional— let me pause, rewind what I said, and merely let it be said that you have earned one because of your actions."

“Um, great.” It was my turn to pause. A boon.

“Can it be anything I want?” I asked.

“No, no,” he replied. “As with everything, there are limitations on what I am allowed to bestow upon you. Both from within and without. And though I know it will irk you to no end, it will ultimately come down to what I think you need. But I would be willing to listen to your wishes. That said, I think that you need to return to Coggeshall and get a sense of what's been happening there, prior to you making a choice.”

“Well, except you just said I'm not actually the one making a choice. You are.”

“I argue we are splitting hairs. I bestow the boon as well as empower it, so yes, it must come from me, so I must decide what⁠—”

“So you can't just give me something that is completely bonkers. I get it.”

“All within the rules. But I want you to have freedom of thought, especially as you may understand your needs better than myself. Think about what would make your life easier. And then, hopefully, you can tell me what you want and I can give it to you, in a way that I think it will benefit you, and also be safely within the allowances.”

“There are a lot of rules to this.”

“True. The rulebook is immense, and likely only something a deity would be able to understand.”

"Hey — I’m well on my way there."

“I am glad you brought that up! I was having trouble figuring out a segue to that. Your deity status is causing problems.”

"What do you mean?" I asked.

“There are certain rules that are in place⁠—”

“Of course there are.”

“Yes,” Mister Paul replied, “there are. I often find myself speaking about the rules to you, and there are always more. In this case, the rules are rather strict, governing who is allowed to do what within this world. Within the game, as it were. Deities, obviously, abide by different rules, both as adjudicated or decided by the world itself as by the, well, other stakeholders.”

“The other gods.”

“Yes. The agreed-upon rules, so to speak, as opposed to the natural laws of this universe. And if you achieve deification, that would make you beholden to the rules of deities. And those who are under that classification are not permitted to participate in anything along the lines of what you are.”

"So it's kind of a get-out-of-jail-free card for me, right?"

“No.”

“Sounds like it means I get to bounce out of here…”

“I honestly don’t know what it might mean, save you would no longer be able to play. Or exist. Hard to say. If we had to continue your metaphor, it is more like a you-can’t-play-any-games card, which… not sure they ever made that card. Or really, I don't think anyone ever made a get-out-of-jail-free card outside of that horrid game.”

"Monopoly?"

“That's the one. Hate it.”

"You've played it?"

“Of course I have. What did you think? That I just visited Earth in passing? No, I’ve spent time there.”

“And?”

“Horrible. Detest the place.”

“You detest Earth?”

"Well, no. I detest aspects of it, Monopoly included. I just don't enjoy it as much as here. Or anywhere, really. Otherwise, maybe I would find some other locale to haunt. Sadly, this world, this is what I enjoy. This is the place I love. And that is why I am doing so much to keep it here. Now, before we get into another debate I’d rather not have, or I say something truly dumb, I have this for you."

He pulled out a present, wrapped neatly in white paper with a black ribbon tied around it. I opened it and found a pair of pants.

“These are pants. Trousers to be precise. They are made to be stain-proof and tear-proof.”

"Awesome, I guess."

“You do tend to go through clothes at an impressive pace.”

“I like to think of it as keeping the tailors in good business.”

“You needn't wear them if you choose not to, but now you have the option. Just as likely, you will forget you even have them.”

I gave him a look. While accurate, I didn’t appreciate him pointing it out.

He just smiled at me, his black teeth glinting in the moonslight.

“Well, thank you,” I finally said. “I appreciate them, but maybe like a potion of ‘help friends’ would’ve been more useful.”

"I've given you lots of things to help your friends. You have chosen not to use them. It is beyond frustrating to watch when you’ve been given what you need, yet don't take advantage of it."

“Oh come on, I'm doing the best I can. There's a lot happening here, okay? And sometimes I just can't see everything. Sometimes there's so much going on that I lose track of what I have and what I'm supposed to be doing and how I'm supposed to save people and who I'm supposed to save and who I'm supposed to kill and how I'm supposed to kill them. I have to do it all, every day. It's a lot more than my shitty brain can handle. So fuck you for to implying that I’m never doing enough. Because goddamn, I am at my limit. And fuck, I don't know what it means to say goddamn it to a god. And now I'm fucking weirded out about the sentence structure. But I promise I'm doing the best I can. My memory is fucking Swiss cheese from a life of using my head as a hammer to get shit done.”

I sighed. I wanted to jump off the stupid swan float I was on and swim away. But as I tilted to try to get out, he caught me and swung me back around to face him.

“None of that now,” Mr. Paul said. “I was merely expressing my frustration. And I hear you — there's a lot going on that makes you frustrated as well. I suppose it is difficult for someone to make such life-altering changes and come through without any issue. But that doesn’t change the fact that we're relying on you. It's not fair, but such is life.”

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I just sat there and took a drink of the root beer.

“This is good stuff," I said.

“Agreed. I like it quite a bit."

"Sprechers?" I asked.

"That's the one. You seem to prefer it."

“I do. I mean, you know, Faygo has nostalgic charm and all that, but this is better.”

“Did you want me to change your flask?”

“You can do that?”

He closed his eyes, putting his finger to his temple.

“Done,” he said, giving me a smile.

“That’s not the boon, is it?”

“No.”

I nodded, and took another pull from the bottle.

"Okay, I'm calm again. So tell me, in very vague terms, what you need me to do once I get back to Coggeshall."

"Again, I cannot tell you any specifics. I can say that your best bet is to just get most everything running smoothly and safely again. Because in your time away, the mice did play."

"How am I the cat in this situation?"

“Well, because you are the one in charge. And right now, no one is reigning things in. There seems to have been a lack of any one person to get things going or stop things from going too fast.”

"Great," I said. "Because you know what I like, you know what's really got me going, you know what I'm really looking forward to? Coming back home after being gone forever and having to be the asshole."

“I think you would enjoy being the asshole,” Mister Paul said with a wide smile. “You need to get over your desire to be liked by everyone, and just accept being liked by some people. There are quite a few people who are rather fond of you, and others waiting to see if you will become fond of someone else.”

“Is this about the kitsune-girl and the ‘viewers’ again?”

"No," he said in a way that was very clear he meant the opposite. “But there have been questions about whether you are going to stop being so mopey and alone. I think it might be healthy for you to have a romantic partner. There are more than a few viable candidates, whether it’s Amber or Eliza or⁠—”

"Yeah, that's probably not going to happen," I said.

“I think it would be better for you if⁠—”

“No. I can’t. It's a bad idea. Very bad. I don't think it's healthy for me, and if it's not healthy for me, it probably isn't healthy for anybody to, like, watch me, or some bullshit.”

“Well, I disagree. And though I am your patron, I am neither your lord nor your boss, so I will not prescribe your actions. I will urge you to reconsider though, as there would be benefits to having more people in your life."

“Are you done?” I said.

"Yes. I will not speak to you about your love life. For a little while, at least."

“I appreciate even a small break.”

“But of course.”

“Anything else before you send me back? Like maybe some clarifications on the deity thing? I'm very confused about the whole god versus mortal debate, but I’m assuming it will just end up with you celestial fucks coming to yank me to stand before some council of eight conversation and then you take away everything I’ve earned and want?”

“That is a definite probability, and worth warning you.”

"What will happen to the goblins?"

“Your true believers? I don't quite know. It’s very interesting to see how they are adapting to being yours, but it is a difficult answer. One I don't have.”

"Okay, so, what? I just keep going along with them? If you're going to take them, you might as well do it before we get to Coggeshall."

“Now, that is interesting. If you are willing to, perhaps, trade away the ‘problem,’ you might be able to take advantage of the situation. Those who are calling out the issue might be willing to make a deal, as it were.”

“And the goblins would just, what? disappear?”

“Likely.”

"Seems kind of fucked up to, like, trade actual lives for something for me.”

“It needn’t be seen as death. I could, theoretically, see about putting them somewhere else in the world. Let them live their lives as goblins. But need I remind you how many goblins you have killed?”

“Do you have that exact number?”

“I could get it, but would that actually do anything for you? The answer is no, by the way. You would just have the depressing realization of how many lives you’ve ended.”

“Yeah, that’s SO much better.”

He shrugged.

“So you’d wipe away my goblin slayer indicium?” I asked. “Would that be the fix?”

“Doubtful. You have earned that reward. Just, well, what I think would happen is removing these goblins and, at the same time, re-wording the indicium such that you would no longer have any path toward godhood. Because gods aren't allowed to play.”

"What if I don't want to play?"

"You are already playing. Therefore you can't leave the game. Except in one way."

"Which is?"

"Actual death."

"Actual death."

"Yes. Or the game finishes."

"So you admit there is a game."

"No."

"But you just said⁠—"

“I said nothing. And if you would like to remember what is being said here, I would advise that you do not recall me saying anything in that vein, either.”

I swallowed the smile that was coming, the one that I was going to have because I had felt like I had outsmarted a god before realizing I had definitely not done that.

"Okay," I said. "I'm willing to give it up. But I better get something pretty good in return, because I kind of liked the idea of becoming a god."

"I'm sure you did. It's quite the gig, if you can get it."

With that, he gave me a wink and disappeared.

23

When I woke up, the goblins were gone. Like, there was zero evidence of them having existed whatsoever. Poof.

I didn't like it.

I felt a growing unease that I had traded them for who knows what. But they were just goblins. And I’d killed a lot of goblins, for what I knew were good reasons.

Still. This was gross.

I got up, walked away from our little campsite, and sat down on a log that was half in and half out of the lake. I watched as the meadow’s actual residents settled into the strangeness of having interlopers. Bats and fish hunting bugs. Then I watched a giant fish jump out of the water and eat a bat straight out of the air, which was not on my bingo card, but, you know, maybe I needed a new bingo card.

A note fluttered down from the sky. I snatched it from the air. A little piece of paper, four inches by four inches, from the desk of Mr. Paul.

The negotiations are ongoing, but at the least there will be no goblins, and your deification will not happen. I think it is for the best. Here is a small thank you from Grotshok, the god of goblins.

On the reverse was a phrase written in a gruffer script, a stark contrast to the flowing perfect penmanship of Mister Paul’s precisely penned, persistently perfidious, preposterously pretty loops.

Ever wanted Prinkie Cavalry?

Can’t say I’d ever considered such a thing, but as that thought crossed my mind for the first time, the paper burned in a flash.

And somehow in the brightness, the ashes transformed into a keychain with a little figurine on it. It was a monstrous little creature, kind of like a ball with a big mouth and pudgy legs. It had big eyes, lots of teeth, and a stump of a tail. The whole thing felt warm, pulsing with potential.

Gribblet Summoning Charm

Item Type: Divine

Item Class: Charm

Material: Orichalum

Durability: n/a

Weight: negligible

Requirements: n/a

Description: The Gribblets are arcane creatures designed as an all purpose organism to complement prinkies and other petite pets. They can function as mounts, as companions, as fire starters, as blankets, as flotation devices, and many other things. The options are limited only by your imagination. Try Gribblets, for prinkies, today.

"What the fuck?" I whispered to myself. I sent a pulse of mana into the figure. Or rather, I gave it access to my mana. I felt a weird tingle, almost like getting a shot. There was a slight pop, and then a creature stood in front of me. Like a prinkie had somehow swallowed a fucking soccer ball and then grew an alligator tail and grippy toes. It had bulbous eyes and a big ol' mouth with a wide tongue hanging out the side of it.

It panted a few times, sniffed, and then looked at me expectantly.

"The fuck are you?"

It tilted its head one way, then the other. Then it looked behind it, to the right and the left. I think it got sight of its tail and tried to grab it. That was the end of its acknowledgement of anything, because the game was on. The strange creature was wholly focused on one goal: catching its tail. Round and round it went until it lost footing, tripped into the lake, and then promptly vomited up a bizarre sort of confetti glitter. It spread across the surface of the water.

"Enough," I said. “More weird fuck-off creatures.”

I unsummoned the thing and looked at the pendant that I had taken to be a keychain, and shook my head.

"I'm sure there's a use for this," I said, looking up to the sky, addressing the gods who had apparently given this to me as a thank you for something or other. "And I do appreciate it. It's just, couldn't you have given me like a nice dog or something instead of all this… You know what? I don't care — thank you. I shouldn't look a gift fucking furball in the mouth."

Slowly, the night turned to day. When Amber woke up, I said that the goblins had gone. She nodded as if she knew that was going to happen. I thought there'd be more to it, but maybe there had been some divine assistance in the matter. Whatever the case, she didn't seem to mind.

When Fritz returned from his night hunt and we boarded for the next leg of our journey, there seemed to be a better mood amongst the passengers. No more pretending to ignore the burping, farting, screaming, smelly gaggle of goblins. I still missed the stupid fuckers, but I knew this was for the best. I was not meant to be a god, especially not for goblins.

That was really just fucked up.

Hey, let me worship you, because you are such a vile monstrosity. I can't imagine how that would affect me long-term. I’d killed a million of them, so now they worship me instead of running in fear. Bizarre. But then again, what the fuck did I know about goblins?

Fritz flew us away.

24

My return to Coggeshall, my namesake land, the home I’d built with my own hands for the good of everyone, was not at all impressive. I’m not sure why I thought there’d be some sort of fanfare or celebration, but for the last leg of our flight, I’d been prepping myself to hate that. So when it didn’t come, I was left feeling odd. I wanted to be mad at everyone for making a big thing of it, but I had no one to be mad at.

Only Skeld stood in the field waiting for us. He gave me a slight nod before going around to help Eliza and Amber out of the harness and onto solid ground.

I gave Fritz some scratches and then hopped off.

“Wow, Skeld,” I said. “A whole welcoming committee. You shouldn’t have.”

“Did you have a nice trip?” he replied.

“Can’t say I did. Did you miss me?”

“Can’t say I did.”

He held his face straight for a beat before cracking a smile.

“Skeld Woodingson,” I said, “might I present to you Phillipe… whose last name I’ve forgotten.”

Phillipe scowled. “Courcillon.”

“Excellent first impression,” Skeld replied.

“Not his fault,” I said. “Just my inability to remember names.”

“I was talking about you.”

“How is this the first impression you have of me? Or he has of me? I know both of you and— whatever, doesn’t matter. That’s Skeld,” I said to Phillipe. “He’s grumpy and the chancellor–”:

“Acting chancellor.”

“Sure, and Phillipe here is the social secretary.”

Phillipe gave a slight bow of his head.

“A pleasure, chancellor,” Phillipe said.

“As on my end,” Skeld said, shaking hands with the man. Skeld gave me a side-eye, as if to ask what the fuck were we doing with a social secretary. “I apologize we don’t have a proper office or room for you, but I imagine we can at least find you a bed for the night while we prepare more permanent accommodations. It would have been something that could have been arranged ahead of time, should someone had made mention that there’d be a new staff member coming⁠—”

“I thought I did,” I lied.

Eliza slipped her arm around Phillipe’s.

“I can show him around,” she said, “while the two of you argue.”

“Thank you,” Skeld replied.

Eliza and Phillipe sashayed away.

I looked around for Amber, but she was already gone.

Fritz took another second to glare at me, which didn’t necessarily mean anything, since that was just the way he looked at the world, before he leapt into the sky and winged his way into the mountains.

“Just the two of us,” I hummed.

“What was that?” Skeld asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just a little surprised at how, um, that played out.”

“Yes, well, sometimes people understand the need for a chancellor to speak with his liege lord in privacy.”

“You arranged this?”

“I sent word indicating what I would prefer to happen upon your arrival, yes.”

“And no one mentioned Phillipe then?”

“No.”

“Not sure it’s my fault then. I suppose I should start with treats, as I got some presents for you,” I said, untying a bag and passing it over to him.

“For me? You shouldn't have.”

“Not really for you so much as for Coggeshall.”

“Of course, a tiny bag for Coggeshall. What more could our growing community need than a single tiny bag.”

“It’s not just a tiny bag.”

“Is it a leather pouch?”

“A magic leather pouch.”

“With an economy-shattering supply of sapphires inside, rendering them worthless save for taking up space we don’t have?”

“No, it’s filled with cows.”

“Whatnow?”

“Cows. Animals with horns, good for milk, cheese, leather⁠—”

“I know what cows are, but in this pouch?”

“Yes.”

“They must be small cows.”

“They are.”

Skeld frowned and really looked at the pouch.

“Are they alive?” he finally asked.

“They were when they went in.”

“And?”

“They should also be that way when they come out?”

“The lack of confidence in your own magic item is disturbing.”

“Whatever — they’re alive. I’m pretty sure they are. And there should be enough there to get a herd going.”

“Just what we need, a herd of tiny cattle. Then we can have tiny steaks and⁠—”

“Cheese.”

“Tiny cheeses, sure.”

“I think the cheese should be normal-sized. But its not like the size of the animal dictates the size of the cheese”

“You studied the art of cheese-making while you were gone?”

“Mainly war.”

“Much more your style.”

“I guess. I do like cheese, though.”

“Don’t we all? Now, my lord, your grace, duke of all you survey⁠—”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“Makes two of us.”

“What’s going on here?”

“Where?”

“In Coggeshall. You were leading up to something, right?”

“I mean, there are several issues that could use addressing, but I am also waiting to see if there are more presents forthcoming. Possibly useful ones specifically for me, before we actually dive into our issues.”

“I did have a worm for you, but, um…”

“You ate it?”

“It was actually confiscated.”

“Your worm?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of worm was it?”

“A brain-eating one.”

“Ah, then I appreciate whomever took it from you.”

“The Emperor.”

“Then I appreciate him even more.”

“You’re a Valamir fan now?”

“Fan might be pushing it. But it would seem he is not the man we thought, so I am willing to give him the benefit of not hating him while he does what he does to really earn that hate.”

“I think he might actually be one of the good ones.”

“One can hope. Any more gifts?”

“I’m sure I forgot something,” I said, handing over the magic backpack. “Probably ask Lee to unpack all this. Or something along those lines.”

“I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed at dealing with such a task.”

“Want to tell me about the gremlins?”

“Good enough place to start, I suppose.”

“Great. Start.”

“I would love nothing more. Care to follow me?”

“Can I have a rest first?”

“You’re the duke — you can do as you like.”

I frowned at him. He knew exactly how to play me, and it was already working.

“Lead on,” I snapped. “And probably give the cows to Darius.”

“I was already planning on it,” he said.

We made our way to the brewery. I frowned.

“Why are we going here?” I asked.

“Reasons,” Skeld replied without stopping.

I was about to press for elaboration, but as soon as we got inside the magical building, there were people everywhere. The place was abuzz with activity. People were making barrels in the cooperage and rolling them over to the dispensary. I saw mash boiling happening in great steel containers.

“Whoa,” I said.

Skeld either didn’t hear me or didn’t care, since he continued on apace.

Most everyone got out of his way as he moved. The rest saw me and then got out of our way. We went through the main hall to an unmarked door and down a flight of stairs. We reached a landing where a guard stood against a door.

He stepped aside at the sight of Skeld, pushing the door open behind him and revealing a tunnel.

Judging by the tooling and whatnot, it looked like new construction.

Skeld continued into the tunnel without any hesitation, so I followed along.

“Does this go to MountainHome?” I asked.

Skeld nodded, then said over his shoulder, “Pretty sure we talked about making an underground means of moving between MountainHome and the brewery before you left.”

“I don’t recall, but it’s a good idea either way.”

“This is only one of them. It’s the second most public of them.”

“How many are there?”

“Officially? Three. But there’s also a fourth that you, me, Lee, and Harmut know about.”

“Seems like a lot.”

“After some discussions between Lee, Hermut, and myself, we deemed it’s what’s necessary based on the various, well, situations we’ve come up against. We needed a few extra ways to move materials and personnel back and forth.”

“I feel like you need to explain a few things to me.”

“I have been explaining things, are you not listening?”

“I’m listening, just⁠—.”

“We’re walking now.”

“We can walk and talk. And why are we doing this roundabout getting into MountainHome shit?”

“Because there are issues.”

I stopped walking and leaned against the wall of the tunnel.

Skeld took a moment to notice before he stopped and turned around.

“You wish to speak here?” he asked.

“I want to know things now, not later. If I’m going to know things later, I’m going to go take a rest and a shower. Or a shower and a rest. Not sure which, but I think it’d be better to keep the two separate. Additionally, figured I’d try not being ignorant for a while, see how that pans out, so maybe just give me the details of what’s happening without the fluff so maybe I can plan ahead instead of reacting to every fucking thing after it’s become an emergency.”

Skeld walked back and leaned against the opposite wall.

“You asked me to explain the gremlin situation, and so I was taking you to the person who’s attached to that.”

“Lee?”

“Yes.”

“But why this way? To show me the tunnel?”

“No. Well. Yes. The tunnel is important, because…” his shoulders fell and he looked at the ground. “I don’t want this to sound the way it is going to sound, but while you’ve been away, I fear I have utterly failed at being your chancellor. Because–”

I reached out and grabbed Skeld in a hug.

He went rigid at first, and then slowly relaxed.

I let him go, and he went back to where he was, his eyes moving around a lot, but not meeting mine.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Seemed like you needed a hug.”

“Ah.”

“Was I wrong?”

“No, I guess — I mean, you just haven’t been the most affectionate in the past.”

“I think I’ve been changing. A little.”

“Good?”

“Regardless of how you’ve been doing in the job you never wanted, we’re friends. And that’s not changing.”

“Okay. I think, um, that’s good to hear. Truthfully, I was nervous to tell you how I have been doing because I was in charge and we’re in a spot of trouble.”

“Can you just you just lay out all the problems? And why we’re doing that here? In this tunnel?”

“Because Northwoods has been hijacking things.”

“He’s what?”

“I told you that it would not sound good–”

“It doesn’t,” I said, pushing off the wall and taking steps towards MountainHome. “I’ll kill him.”

“It’s not like that,” he said, blocking me from my homicidal path. “He’s not doing it to sabotage you. He knows I’m floundering, and I think he’s trying to take over the position. Or he’s trying to do what he thinks is best without me being able to fuck it up more.”

“So…”

“So he also likes to talk. A lot. He’s always more interested in discussing the problems than addressing them. And he’s certainly made it clear he expects some form of a council meeting as soon as you arrive. In which case, he would surely have taken all your time talking through all the things that have happened, and we would have wound up unable to get anything done for ages.”

“So you’re hiding me.”

“Sort of. I think of it as holding your focus.”

“To be fair, you haven’t really done much with my focus.”

“Because I’m trying to get you to the source of the first issue instead of explaining things from my perspective, only to then repeat myself once Lee explains things from his perspective and⁠—”

“Fine, I get it. Let’s walk faster — I’m getting antsy.”

“As you wish, your grace.”

25

We found Lee in the engineering shop, another place I didn’t realize we had. He’d set up a bunch of drafting boards in the middle of a large room, and hung all sorts of technical drawings on the walls.

My fellow Earth-born friend was staring at a drawing of a series of gears coming off a long shaft, and did a double take before realizing it was me. He stood up and crossed the room quickly to give me a hearty handshake.

“Good to see you again,” Lee said. “Whole and hale.”

“Same,” I replied. “Let’s talk Gremlins.”

“Huh, I wish we could talk about something else.”

“You have something more pressing to talk about?”

“No, just topics that aren’t so annoying. What do you know so far?”

“Nothing. Skeld just brought me here so you could tell me. All I’ve got is that there’s some issue with a creature known as a gremlin. Are they anything like those things you can’t feed after midnight, that wrecked that one town that one winter?”

“First off, no, they’re not the same creatures as what took down Kingston Falls.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to know the specifics like that.”

“I remember a few notable things from that decade. But back to the issue at hand: regarding the creatures themselves, there’s not a ton I know about them. They’re difficult to find and harder to catch, so most of what we see is the destruction they leave behind.”

“Give me the quick and dirty version.”

“They’re creatures that seem to feed off of technology.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It means that when some bit of mechanics or engineering reaches a some theoretical threshold of complexity, gremlins become aware of it. Then they emerge from some nebulous realm to destroy it. Usually by means of consumption, but not exclusively.”

“Give me a clearer example because that sounds… absurd.”

“It is. It makes little sense to me, but what about this world really makes sense to us, right? The more time I spend here, the more I realize I need to amend the concept of ‘natural laws’ and ‘rules of the universe’ to be just gentle guidelines and recommendations.”

Lee walked over to one of the tables and rolled out a large piece of paper, four feet by three feet or so. It basically covered the entire table. He took a thick pencil out of his pocket and started to draw.

“At the base level, if we have a lever,” he started, sketching as he spoke, “it’s but one bit of, say, mechanics in operation. Right?”

“Sure.”

“We use this principle in almost infinite ways as humans in any world.”

“I think this might be slightly too simple a starting point.”

“Never quite know with you, your grace.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Okay so,” Lee continued, “take the power hammer we built. It runs off a water wheel that is turned by the river. A simple process — the wheel turns, and we use that turning wheel to force a lever up and down, which in turn causes heavy weight to go up and down. Not that many moving parts.”

“Right.”

“Now, what if we split that input force so that the power hammer works off that wheel, but that wheel also drives some bellows? We’ve added more pieces into the equation, so it is more complex. There are more gears, more pulleys, belts, and so on. And if we take that, and we also have it operate a grinder, it increases complexity even more, adding more parts to the mechanical equation. But then there’s also the grinder itself. Conversion of the turning shaft from the water wheel into something that has enough torque to grind up whatever material we want to pulverize.”

“So that’s too much?”

“In this example, yes. That grinder, which isn’t just millstones rolling over each other, gets us to a critical mass of gears or mechanical devices or whatever that makes the gremlins pay attention to us. So now we have these creatures infesting Coggeshall who seem intent on devouring any mechanical device we have.”

“Like the power hammer?”

“Right. Gone. Our various wheels are all offline, in states of disrepair as we try to build new parts to go in them. But those get eaten as soon as we put them in place. And it’s not just that. We have no locks on doors or chests, except the magical ones that have no mechanical components.”

“Locks?”

“Or clocks. And before you try to make a rhyme out of it, there’s more. Pumps that move water and sewage around are not working. Hinges have been going missing. Zoey has kept her people working in constant shifts not only to make replacement equipment, but also to ensure nothing in the smithy is destroyed.”

“Fucking A. So how much is broken?”

Skeld sighed audibly and pulled out a notebook.

I held up a hand before he could launch into whatever he was about to list off.

“Big picture,” I clarified.

“You can assume any part of our industrial output is non-functional. Including elements of the brewery.”

“They hit the brewery?”

“The gremlins are everywhere, it would seem.”

“And there's nothing we can do?”

“There’s plenty to do,” Lee countered.

“Eh,” Skeld said.

“Okay, which is it?” I asked.

Lee glared at Skeld.

“You can be angry at me,” Skeld said to Lee, “but you know that your attempts to solve this have been as bad as what got us here.”

“I didn’t know this would happen!”

“You built something too big?”

“I might have, yes. And before Skeld says as much, yes, I was warned. But it sounded so ridiculous that I didn’t take it seriously, and now we are here. So I will accept that blame.”

“Blame isn’t exactly useful here,” I said.

“And yet, the dwarves are awfully keen to make sure they are not blamed,” Skeld said.

“Why do they care?”

“Apparently it is a common problem amongst dwarven holds,” Lee said.

“So they know how to solve it?”

“Yes.”

“So why are we not going to them with this issue?”

“One part is simple–”

“Nothing about this is simple!” Skeld snapped. “There is nothing but chaos every way I look. No one here has been able to help me put out a single fucking fire–”

I put my hands on Skeld’s shoulders and pulled him to face me.

“I’m here now,” I said. “This is on me. I will help you.”

Skeld pushed me away and walked over to the farthest window, staring outside and taking what I hoped were calming breaths.

I glanced over at Lee.

He gave me the slightest shrug.

“So you got a warning?” I asked.

“I did.”

“And still went through with something?”

“I did.”

“Which was?”

“I was working on a clock, of sorts. A means of moving sunlight into MountainHome. I used lots of levers and shutters and gears, and apparently–”

“It was enough to get the attention of the gremlin things.”

“Right. And when Harmut’s man told me I needed to stop because some creature might show up and eat the mechanical components…” Lee just left the sentence there, because it was obvious to me how ridiculous that would sound.

“Except they were right.”

“Yes.”

“And now we’re stuck with gremlins.”

“Seems like it.”

“But if Harmut knew about them, why don’t we ask him to get rid of them?”

“Yes well, that’s where the next problem arises.”

“You chiming back in on this?” I called over my shoulder at Skeld.

“Lee can handle it,” Skeld replied.

I looked back at Lee.

He just smiled.

“It’s more something Harmut should probably explain to you, but yeah. He knows, theoretically, things that can be done. But the problem⁠—”

“One of then problems,” Skeld interjected.

“Sure, one of the problems is that dealing with gremlins is a specialized profession, one that we have a decided lack of because— well, again, best if you ask Harmut about that.”

“I’m getting really sick of tracking everyone down for simple answers. Could we just have a council meeting and–”

“I think it’d be worth a personal visit.”

I took a calming breath of my own. “Fine. I guess that’s where I’m going then, because you’re out of ideas on the gremlin thing?”

“No. But I’m waiting on you to decide what we’re doing.”

“And in the meantime?”

“I’ve been building small mechanical devices and trying to capture the gremlins.”

“Any luck?”

“No.”

“Skeld,” I called out, walking to the door, “I’m going to talk to Harmut. You coming?”

“I believe you would get lost otherwise,” he snapped, walking straight to the door and leaving the room.

I paused a second. “So nice to be home,” I said.

“Right?” Lee replied. “This’ll teach you not to leave again.”

“Like I had a choice.”

He shrugged. I really felt like flipping him off, or flipping his table over. I did neither, because Skeld stuck his head back through the open door and glared at me until I followed him.

26

We moved through MountainHome at a quick pace, going from Lee’s somewhat high-floor engineering lab down into the depths, where the construction offices were located. Normally I would’ve called it a basement, but being that we didn’t really have typical above-ground floor designations, it was more like floor negative four. A nice touch: the construction offices were right off the stairwell, so that you didn’t need to travel far to find someone to speak with who would send you away from the construction areas.

When Skeld and I popped in, Harmut welcomed us into his office immediately. It was a rather small space off the large open room that served as the catchall for the department. I had to squeeze myself in, dropping into a tight armchair across from a low stone desk where Harmut was working. A map of a vertical cross-section of MountainHome hung behind him. I stared at it for a long moment, taking in just how much we’d carved out of the mountain.

Harmut followed my stare. He smiled, perhaps in spite of himself.

“Welcome home, your grace,” Harmut said.

“Thank you,” I said, still a little caught up, staring at at the map. “But I am not, um, here on a social call.”

“Here to talk NorthFort?”

“Yep,” I said, then paused. “NorthFort? No, gremlins. What’s going on with NorthFort?”

“That was topic two,” Skeld said. “I have yet to brief his grace on NorthFort.”

“Is there a problem?” I asked quickly.

“Not exactly,” Harmut replied fast enough that it made me think he was on the cusp of a lie. “Progress has been, um, steady. Just a bit delayed, due to certain problems.”

“Everyone needs to just tell me what the fuck is going on straight, because I feel like I’m losing half my life with all this fucking around the bush. What is it?”

“The lack of prinkies,” Skeld said. “It slowed everything down.”

“What happened to the prinkies?”

“You left.”

“I gave you the necklace.”

“This thing?” Skeld asked, holding the prinky summoning necklace up from his neck. “Why would you think that would work for me?”

“You can’t make magic items work?”

“I don’t have a bottomless well of mana like you do. I can make one prinky hang around. Two if I want a horrible headache for the rest of the day.”

“That one prinky was useful, though,” Harmut offered.

“No it wasn’t. Just as easy to use someone who could talk to pass messages. And I don’t want this any longer,” Skeld said, pulling the necklace off and chucking it at me with a rather inappropriate amount of force.

I snagged it from the air and settled it around my neck.

“And do not forget the bigger part behind the delay,” Hermit continued, “the gremlins. Also infested Northfort, though how they got there… Though that matters little in the face of what they have done there. They did a number on the cranes and whatnot over at NorthFort. Tough to get the bigger stones moved without, um, mechanical advantage.”

“Ah,” I said, leaning back in my chair and pointedly ignoring the creaking, “so we’re kind of back to the topic I came to talk to you about.”

“You take him to Lee?” Harmut asked Skeld.

Skeld nodded.

“And Lee–”

“Admits it was his fault.”

“Which I don’t care about right now,” I said. “I’m not concerned about–”

“Just that we dwarves get the blame most, and⁠—”

I slammed my hand on the desk.

It was loud, and so we all went quiet. But the desk didn’t crack, which was nice. I did break the inkwell though, and the dark liquid spread out from my hand and began to drip onto the floor.

“Fuck,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“No. it’s, um…”

I wiped my hand on my trousers and then used the tail of my shirt to sop off some of the mess.

“Your grace, I have–” Harmut started, getting a towel off a hook and trying to clean things up just as I did.

Skeld gently tugged me back down to my seat.

“I apologize. I should have listened when you said you didn’t care,” Harmut spoke, “but we are blamed so often and I am perhaps a little… sensitive about it.”

“I get that Lee did it. He’s contrite. But that does little to solve the issue,” I said. “And, frankly, I don’t care that much about the blame game right now, when we could be spending that energy fixing things. Now, I presume that some clever dwarves have come up with means to solve the issue, correct?”

“It is, um, a known issue in our culture, yes.”

“So how do we fix things?”

Harmut hemmed and hawed for a moment before Skeld cleared his throat.

"You've got to get a dwarven gremlin team in here," Skeld said.

“And we don’t have one of those?”

“No.”

“And is there a reason we can’t get one?”

Skeld sighed, and then gestured to Harmut.

“Yes,” Harmut finally said.

“Care to explain why?”

Again, Harmut seemed to have trouble finding his words.

“Because,” Skeld said through another sigh, “the dwarves of Coggeshall are not on the best terms with other dwarves.”

“Any of them?”

“That is what Harmut implies.”

“It is not that simple,” Harmut snapped.

“Of course it’s not,” Skeld snapped right back. “But you sitting there not saying anything only makes this worse.”

“Please, explain it to me,” I said, softly, doing my best to remain non-confrontational.

“You know something of why we came here, yes?” Harmut asked.

“Roughly. Some issue with the, um, clan? Group?”

“Clan is the right term. The, um… the ones who… we decided to leave because we did not agree with what they were doing. With their beliefs.”

“Makes sense.”

“Part of those who stayed, they're the ones who dealt with gremlins.”

“The de-gremlin squad?”

"Aye, though obviously, not called that."

“I suck at naming things.”

“Known issue,” Skeld nodded, and I gave him a quick scowl.

“It has never been asked of us. The whole story as to why we are here, or what all of what we have done means to, um, Coggeshall.”

“Is now the time?”

“Could be.”

“Is there more to this? Some bigger problem we should be aware of?”

“Yes. Probably. I fear there will be issues because we are avoiding those people.”

"What do you mean, those people?"

“The rest of the clan”

“All right.”

“It would be great if we could just reach out and ask for help, but if we do, then they will know we are here, and then they will come–”

“And that’s bad?”

“Yes. We should avoid any of them coming here. Or knowing we are here. But now I don't know that we can avoid it, because we need them. And yet–”

"Are they the only game in town?"

"As far as I know," Skeld said, “dwarves are the only ones who effectively deal with gremlins.”

“And we,” Harmut added softly, “make it so you cannot contact other dwarves.”

I paused and looked at the dwarf carefully, meeting his pale blue eyes.

“All other dwarves?” I asked.

He nodded. "It could be said in that fashion."

“Why?” I immediately shook my head. “You know what? Forget that question. If you need to keep yourselves separate from all the rest of the dwarves, then that’s what we do. So what’s the next idea? Besides hiring a dwarven gremlin remediation team?”

Harmut’s eyes went a little wide. He glanced over at Skeld.

Who shrugged. “I am not sure there is another option,” Skeld said.

“Dwarves are the only ones who know how to deal with gremlins?” I asked.

“As far as I know.”

“And you don’t know the secrets?” I asked Harmut.

"I did not say that," Harmut replied. “I have some sense of what is done, just…”

“What?”

“The primary means of dealing with the creatures is a compound grown and fashioned in the underrealm.”

“The what now?”

“The underrealm.”

“What is that?”

“It is something that is rarely spoken of outside of our own kind, so I apologize that I am hesitant.”

“Give me the least I need to know, then.”

“It is a realm within this world, somewhat akin to the Gloom.”

“Dwarves made their own Gloom?”

“Well, it is not exactly a topic I fully understand, because it is meant to be… mysterious. But, in a similar vein to the Gloom, I believe it operates in a different pocket of reality. A controlled space where only dwar–”

“Controlled space?”

“Aye. Only those invited by the High King are allowed to enter. Or remain.”

“So, what? Only dwarves are allowed?”

"Technically, no. But as far as I know, the High King has only ever extended that invitation to dwarves. In specifics, to clans, really. And clans will spend what seems like lifetimes for humans working to get an invitation to the underrealm so they might have their people move there and never have to be with non-dwarves again."

“Okay, and that’s where the anti-gremlin stuff is made?”

“From what I know, yes.”

“And we can’t contact them?”

“They would not be willing to talk to you.”

“Because we’re not dwarves?”

“Exactly. And they consider me and mine not dwarves as well, so it is not⁠—”

“Why not you?”

“Because we left our clan.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“It is seen as the ultimate betrayal against dwarvenkind.”

“So even if the clan is fucked, you’re supposed to, what?”

“Fix it. Or die trying.”

“But you left, so now all dwarves hate you?”

“I doubt they actually hate us, but many would see us as no longer dwarves.”

“Well, they’re idiots.”

That got just the hint of a smile from the taciturn dwarf.

“Perhaps,” he said. “But it hinders my ability to offer any sort of solution to this problem.”

“Because we need something that’s not supposed to be known about outside of dwarven clans, that we can’t get unless we are dwarves, from a place only dwarves are allowed to go. Did I get that right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, fuck them. We’ll figure our own thing out. Fuck them,” I said again. “Skeld, I want all the smart people in Coggeshall to meet in, um–”

“The upper cantina?” Skeld offered.

“Exactly. There is a way to get rid of gremlins — we just don’t know what it is yet. I want them to work this issue and solve it.”

“Are there any specific smart people you’d like working on this particular issue?”

“Yeah. All of ‘em. Unless, are there other issues outstanding?”

Skeld gave me a look I should’ve seen coming.

“Okay, so what’s next?” I asked.

Skeld gestured across the desk.

“We just did him,” I said.

“NorthFort,” Skeld replied.

“Fuck. Right. So we’re behind on NorthFort?”

“That is the word I have received, aye,” Harmut said.

“And we need prinkies there to pick up some of the slack?”

“That would be useful. Might also behoove us to find out where our geomancer is. Maybe see about getting her out there to help as well.”

“Where is she?”

Harmut pointed over his shoulder.

“Expansion of the fourth floor to the west.”

“Why?”

“Northwoods,” Skeld said, doing very little to hide the venom in his voice. “He requires larger quarters.”

I took a moment before I spoke, thinking through things quickly. Northwoods was a pain in the ass, but he was also an ally and somewhat useful. Did I want to irritate the man? Did I want to placate him? What was the play? When I had I started caring? Had I finally learned something about navigating aristocracy?

“I see,” I finally said. “I’ll talk to him about where his needs fit in with all of this and see what I can do. I can probably go over to NorthFort tomorrow or so, unleash a horde of prinkies onto the fort, see if that helps.”

“At the least, I’m sure your visit will boost morale,” Harmut said.

“That’s nice of you to say. Anything else?”

“Well, there are certainly a hundred things I could point out to you, but I feel as if I have taken enough of your time, your grace.”

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I just gave him a smile and a nod and got to my feet.

“We’ll be meeting as a council soon,” Skeld said. “You may bring up things then.”

Then we left.

27

Skeld paused at the entrance to the stairs.

“What?” I asked.

“I await your pleasure at deciding where we’re going.”

“Are you being a dick on purpose?”

“Probably a little. I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“You seem to be doing fine.”

“Says the man who just got here and hasn’t been in the middle of the shit-show storming over this little corner of the world.”

“It’s not that bad,” I said. “And I’ve had my own shit-show to deal with. Did you have to go to war while I was gone?”

“No.”

“See? Not that bad then. I got burned alive.”

“You survived.”

“I didn’t say I died, I got burned alive.”

He pointed at a door.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Try to open that,” he said.

I reached out and grabbed the handle. The door fell off its hinges.

Two dwarves stopped canoodling in the supply closet and stared at Skeld and me, a strange blend of surprise, derision, and shame.

“My apologies,” I said, and leaned the door back against its frame. “Carry on.”

Skeld had his wolverine eyebrows raised, happily telling me he told me so without having to say a word.

“So, doors are a pain,” I said. “Got it. Things are weird here.”

“That is putting it mildly,” Skeld said.

“Where’s Ragnar?” I asked. “I haven’t seen him yet–”

“He’s recovering. I thought I told you that.”

“Okay, but where?”

“In his quarters.”

“And I can’t see him?”

“He’s… unhappy about what happened to him. I think he wants to be, um, whole before⁠—”

“Whole?”

“Yes. You haven’t seen him, so you don't know.”

“I don’t — Skeld, what the fuck happened to him?”

“They went through the Feedoheem to get back here.”

“He and Bear?”

“Correct.”

“Can I see Bear?”

“She’s…” he sighed, and then trudged up the stairs. “Sure.”

Up and up we went. It was interesting to see the demographics change, with more dwarven foot traffic on the lower floors, to a mix of everyone on the ground floors, to humans on the upper. Probably something to do with a desire for daylight, whereas the dwarves were okay with being underground?

You have been offered a quest:

Do Dwarves Desire Daylight?

Though commonly thought of as purely creatures of the rock, of diggers and tunnelers and dwellers of the deep, do dwarves want daylight in their lives? Discover the truth of their innermost desires as it regards light and dark and day and night.

Reward for success: Greater insight into dwarvenkind and, potentially, increased dwarves likability, XP

Penalty for failure (or refusal): Unknown

Yes/No

I sighed and took the quest.

A moment later, Skeld turned and looked at me.

“How did that happen?” he asked.

“What? The quest? I don’t really know — I was just wondering about something and then, poof, quest to discover it.”

“Just like that?”

“Yep. That’s unusual?”

“Very. Not many people ever get quests from the world to start. And certainly nothing that simple.”

“You think that quest is simple?”

“Yes. Go talk to any dwarf, and ask them about their thoughts on daylight and light in general. It’s free XP.”

“Yeah, but –- I guess it could be that simple.”

Skeld shook his head and resumed walking up the stairs.

“You know we get that XP too, right?” he said.

“Yeah. Wait, can you just do the quests for me?”

“I never considered that, but we could try.”

“I’ve got a bit of a backlog.”

“You do.”

“But if they’re so easy, you and the rest of the hir∂ can knock some out on the quick, right?”

I didn’t get an answer from Skeld. He was back to ignoring me.

28

Ithought we’d be headed to Bear’s quarters, but the little nameplate next to the door said ‘Skeld Woodingson.’ Skeld did knock before entering, though.

“Come in,” came Bear’s voice, muffled through the door.

Skeld had to do a little work to get the door open. It wasn’t technically held on by the hinges, so he had to shif the door to the side.

I’d never visited Skeld’s place beyond his front door — I hadn’t done much visiting anywhere around MountainHome — so I didn’t know what to expect. It was a tasteful, if somewhat small, apartment. To the immediate left of the entrance was a little kitchenette with a sink and what I think was a hotplate, on top of stone counters with cabinets below and above. Almost like what you’d find in an extended stay hotel. Past that was a little step down into the living area. Big windows looked out over Coggeshall, letting in a good amount of light and making the place feel bigger. On the same wall there was a bump-out, almost like a balcony, but fully covered. As if after the fact, someone decided to give Skeld’s place more room.

To the right were two doorways that lacked doors but had heavy curtains instead. A small iron stove was nestled in the right corner of the living area. I’d guess the placement was so it might warm up the main room as well as what I assumed was the bedroom on the other side.

His furniture was simple and rustic, but everything seemed comfortable and well made. A large (for Skeld) overstuffed arm chair nestled in part of the bump-out next to the window, and curled up in that chair was Bear, who was snuggled in a blanket and holding a large mug of something steaming.

She glanced up and smiled at me through the steam.

“Your grace,” she said, starting to move.

“Don’t get up,” I said quickly, walking into the space and making sure she didn’t do anything dumb like hurt herself while trying to bow.

“I won’t,” she replied, having settled into a new position. “I am glad to see you made it home.”

“I’d say the same to you. Your trip home was okay?”

“It was… interesting.”

“What happened?”

“The full story?”

“I mean, if you want to tell it.”

“It might not be my story to tell, really. When the explosion went off, I knew I had mere heartbeats to do something, and at that time, I only had enough magic to take one soul with me. So I took Ragnar, thinking you would likely be able to handle whatever was going to come. I’m glad to see I was right.”

“It was the right move.”

She smiled at me again, relieved that I wasn’t mad at her.

“So, where did you go?” I asked.

“The feedoheem. As a creature of that realm, it is nearly always in my power to return there. Which is what I did at that moment, pulling Ragnar with me.”

“And then?”

“And then we began the process of getting to a point we could cross back over here, which… was a lot. I had little power in reserve when we arrived, and I relied heavily on Ragnar to keep me alive until I could help, um, get back.”

“But something happened to him?”

She let out a little chuckle and seemed to smile in spite of herself.

“Many things happened to him. And myself. To us. It was more of an adventure than I anticipated, but ultimately, we made it to the tree and were able to get back to Coggeshall.”

“It seemed rather quick,” I said. “Like you were next to me, and then a second later, I got the note that you’d gotten to Coggeshall.”

“Time moves differently there. Many things are different there. It is… different from here.”

“And you’re still recovering?”

“I am. It took a lot out of me, and I had to attach myself more to the Feedoheem than I would have liked. So now I pay the price, as I do my utmost to return to life here.”

I sat down on the step and tilted my head. “It almost sounds like you’re going through withdrawals.”

“Withdrawals? That could be a word for it, yes. There is much about my kind that you do not know. And, frankly, that I do not know either. But while I was there, magic was easy. Maybe too easy. And I began to rely more and more on it, to the point that I was in danger of losing who I was to become fully a creature of the Feedoheem, who could no longer live outside it.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too. I would have been lost. If not for Ragnar, I would have been.”

“No one will tell me what happened to him. Is he going to be⁠—”

“I believe he will be better than he ever has been. But he has gone through a transformation. He… he needs time to learn who he is again.”

“Did he lose a leg or his nose or something?”

“He lost parts of himself. Some of which he is regrowing, and some of which were replaced. But I think he is… cautious. Or afraid.”

“I don’t like not seeing him. Checking in on him.”

She took a long sip of her tea. Something between a shiver and a tremor rocketed around her body.

“I think someone needs to break him out of his…” she paused, searching for the word. “State? But I’m not sure the time is right. Ragnar needs to come to grips with who he is now, and also, probably, be in the state of mind where he can actually explain what happened to us. I only know a little of what transpired. My memory of our time there has been — shifted.”

“Huh?”

“I know you are looking for concrete answers, Montana, and I am sorry to say that I don’t have them. The feedoheem is not a place for that. And our time there was… busy. Chaotic. If you want the whole story of what happened, you’ll need to talk to Ragnar. And I would suggest giving him time before you do that.”

“I guess I just don’t really understand why.”

“Because.”

“Okay, well, that clears up.”

“I don’t know how else to explain it to you.”

“I’ll just drop it, then.”

“Probably for the best.”

“Do you know anything about gremlins?”

“What? No.”

“Aren’t they from the Feedoheem?”

“No.”

“I thought–”

“I think they are from somewhere akin to the Feedoheem.”

“Great. More neighboring planes of oddity.”

She smiled. “Exactly,” she said. “But I am glad you’re finally here to get to the work of getting rid of them.”

“They seem like a pain in the butt.”

“Very much. I miss having doors. How was the rest of your journey? I see you managed to avoid having the throne forced upon you.”

“Narrowly. It was… I mean, it was a lot. I think I maybe learned a little something, about governance and people and the people here. But… I don’t know. I also felt like I was a kid playing with grownups, you know?”

She shook her head. “I doubt that was the case. You are too dangerous to just be a kid.”

“A kid with a hand grenade playing with the grownups? I just felt out of my depth. And that I was almost always being played.”

“I imagine the sort of politics being played in the capital are of the highest caliber.”

“Probably. It definitely seemed like it to me. And that is not a skillset I’ve got.”

“Yet.”

“Sure, yet.”

“You get to have a lot of practice here and now.”

“Playing the game of politics?”

“Sure. There is plenty going on, and you are in charge of everything, so you should be able to rig the game in your favor.”

“Not exactly a good learning environment if I know I’m going to win.”

“Well, but isn’t it better to learn in a lower stakes environment? Less chance of ending the world here.”

“Sure, yeah. Sometimes I think this world is always on the cusp of total destruction.”

She gave me a weird smile, and half a giggle escaped before she could stifle it by taking a deep drink of her tea. Her eyes closed as she held the mouthful for a second before swallowing it.

“You okay?” I asked.

She nodded, but I noticed her eyes were still closed.

“Just need a few minutes to… regulate myself,” she said softly.

“Maybe we’ll just go,” I said, “give you some time.”

She nodded.

I turned to look at Skeld, see what he thought, but I was by myself.

I wanted to ask if Bear knew where her boyfriend had gone, or ask where I should go, but her eyes were still closed, and I got the distinct feeling she needed to be left alone.

So I got up, moved the door out of the way of the frame, stepped out, and then gently rested the door back in place.

Only to find a prinky there, with a note.

29

There was a moment of confusion — where the fuck did this little thing come from? — but eventually my addled brain pieced it together. Oh hey, the Imperial historian has a permanent prinky pal. So most likely, this little dude was doing her bidding.

The prinky, who for some reason I remembered was named Reginald, handed me his little note.

Aggressively.

There was no gentleness about it. It was a case of ‘take the note now, you big lug.’ I clearly didn't have a choice in the matter.

It was disconcerting, coming from a prinky.

Regardless, I took the note.

The prinky gestured impatiently for me to open it.

I frowned, and stood up at my full height.

“Keep your pants on,” I said.

The prinky looked down at his pants. Hetsesta had dressed the little furball like a foppish dandy.

It frowned at me and then repeated the gesture to open the note.

“Dude, chill,” I said while opening the note to give it a quick scan.

Hetsesta had invited me to tea, as she was interested in the events that transpired in the capital.

"Is this tea right now?" I asked the prinky.

The prinky nodded, turned on his heel, and strode away, arms held strangely high as he pumped them back and forth. Like he was marching.

Reginald was one weird fucking prinky.

I sighed. I really didn't want to have tea with Hetsesta when there was so much other nonsense to handle. There was just something about her, probably having to do with the fact that she knew most everything about the world while I knew next to nothing. Not like she lorded it over me, but I always got the feeling she was holding back information. Twisting my worldview in the direction she preferred. But fuck it — if her prinky could find me, then she’d just send him over and over again until I came to visit.

“Hey, isn’t it this way?” I asked, pointing in the opposite direction from where the prinky was going.

Reginald stopped in his tracks. He took in a long breath, like he was already sick of dealing with me, and slowly turned around to look at me. He pointed in the direction he was already going and gestured for me to follow.

“Oh, right.”

Out of ideas on how to fuck with the prinky, I followed along.

I wondered if Hetsetsa had moved, because I didn’t remember the Imperial historian being as far up the mountain as we were heading. We climbed a lot of stairs, but I noticed the prinky wasn’t tired. Maybe they didn’t have stamina either. Was–

You have been offered a quest:

If You Prick A Prinky, Does it Bleed Pink Glitter

Though you have a unique bond with prinkies, you have neglected studying these fascinating creatures, and it very well may be that you are not using them to their utmost. So much lies shrouded in mystery, but only because you have been too busy to look into them. Find out all about the prinky, unlock its secrets, and find out how truly great they are.

Reward for success: Unlock additional prinky upgrades, reduced prinky cost, unknown, XP

Penalty for failure (or refusal): Unknown, just like the prinkies…

Yes/No

I managed to hold back the sigh and took the quest.

We continued down a hall, and I noticed one door amongst the many that stood out. It had a nice brass plaque mounted on the wall next to it, and it was purple.

It was the only door of a different color, and I found it interesting that someone had bothered to paint it. But as we got closer, I realized it was made of an intensely purple kind of wood. Having done a tiny amount of woodworking in my past, I appreciated the workmanship on the door, and the exotic quality of the wood and… but why? Why was I–

The little prinky paused and knocked politely. Without waiting, he slipped inside, opening and closing the door so fast I couldn’t follow.

Besides the sheer speed of the little fucker, what struck me was that the door didn't fall over. The hinges worked, and so did the handle, and when he shut it the lock clicked behind him.

"What the fuck," I said, leaning down to stare at the lock. I poked at it, not sure what I was expecting. But it, you know, remained in place. Cold metal.

At which point the door opened, and I found myself staring at the crotch of the Imperial historian.

30

Ilooked up at her face.

She looked down at mine.

"Didn't take you for the peeping type," the Hetsesta said.

“I, uh, was looking at your lock.”

“Never heard it called that before,” she said.

I stood up, frowning.

“Not what I meant,” I replied. “I meant your actual lock.”

She just smiled and leaned out of the way, gesturing me inside.

“Of course you did, your grace,” she said. “Might I tempt you inside to chat?”

“Right, it’s just, your door works. And–"

“I didn’t realize you had such a fascination with doors.”

“I didn’t until recently,” I said, stepping inside and then gently reaching around the older woman to grab the door and move it back and forth.

“I suppose there is something rather, um, fascinating about a… are we really having this conversation? Doors? Is there a joke I’m missing?”

“Have you left your quarters recently?” I asked.

“Leave here?” She asked, raising her eyebrows.

I looked around. It was a stark contrast from Skeld’s place, which had been comfy, partly because of its size. Small, but without feeling cramped. Hetsesta’s place was significantly larger, but it had also been stuffed with things, so it didn’t feel… great. I froze up a little, worried that any quick movements might knock over a priceless antique. Or a worthless knickknack. If I had to define the place, the term knick knackery would work.

But even though it wasn’t my style, I could see why Hetsesta might not have left in a while. She had a reasonably full-sized kitchen, a dining area, a sitting area, a library and reading nook, and even a spot to rest by the fire. And all that didn’t include whatever was on the other side of the four doors leading off the main area. Large floor-to-ceiling windows gave an impressive view of the valley way down below, only slightly sullied by the Coggeshall Brewing Company. Personally I liked the look of the building, but I’d guess that maybe some people were annoyed with how large a structure it turned out to be, especially if they’d been hoping to have an unfettered view of nature.

Hetsesta’s apartment height meant I could see into the greenhouses on top. It was going to be amazing in the winter, when there was just that one verdant spot amongst the rest of the snow-covered vista.

“What an absolute pleasure it is to have you back in our little place of dwelling,” she said, bringing me back to the moment. “It is so nice to see you.”

She sat down in an easy chair overlooking the immense windows and gestured at the couch. "Might I offer you a refreshment?" She said.

Just then, a different prinky came out of the kitchen carrying a tea service. This little prinky brought it over to the coffee table, set it down delicately, poured two cups of tea, and then stood there, like a butler at attention.

"Sugar? Milk?" Hetsesta asked.

"Oh, uh, yes." The historian had said so, gave a nod, and the little prinky adroitly put two lumps of sugar in one cup of tea and two lumps of sugar in the other, and then a hearty dash of milk into both. It even took the time to take two spoons and stir them delicately.

I sat down carefully on the couch, choosing the end closer to Hetsesta.

"Now biscuits, dear."

“I'm sorry?”

"I was speaking to Marshall here. I was asking him to fetch the biscuits for us. Normally I only have tea for one, and so the biscuits can sit on the tray with the tea, but with a guest here, it gets a little crowded. I might request a new tea service. Should the silversmith have room for such a project, that is."

"The silversmith?"

“Having a gold tea service seems so gauche.”

“Okay.”

“You think not?”

“I’m, uh, ambivalent?”

“Then perhaps it could be gold…. But stop taking me on these tangents when I have something I wish to speak to you about, your grace,” she said, giving me a playful slap on my leg. “Now, I have come to know a little about what transpired in this historical undertaking of yours, but I was wondering if you might elucidate.”

"This historical undertaking of mine?"

“Yes.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

"Oh, surely you jest, you must know I want to hear all about the election and the new Emperor.”

“Emperors.”

“And look, more history! I daresay that poor girl has achieved the ignoble superlative of ‘shortest reign in Imperial history.’”

“Oh.”

“Well, I would need to check my notes, but I am fairly certain. There have been some brief reigns, especially prior to the electoral process. But she didn't have a full coronation, did she?”

“Nope.”

“I suppose, then, it would depend upon when you choose to say someone was emperor. Does it count only from coronation on? Especially being that in the pre-election days, one could argue the new emperor assumed the position as soon as the old emperor was dead. Euric The Day King was actually bludgeoned to death with the crown during his coronation.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. The man foolishly tried to force his cousin, who had been passed over for the throne, to be the one who coronated him. Historians argue whether it was Euric’s intention to give the man an honor, or to humiliate him. But either way, it had unintended consequences.”

“Jeez, you could say that!”

“Indeed, though that heinous act by the cousin led to a rather violent brawl wherein the eventual champion was Freydis the Valiant, who ranks amongst the best rulers we have ever had, for she not only held back one of the larger goblin invasion attempts, but also conquered the land of Carthal which form much of the southern lands. Bah, you get me started talking on history I find I rarely stop on my own. I suppose it’s only natural, and not exactly your fault, but this is all a distraction. You do not need a history lesson today. For one thing, I don't think you particularly want that. And for another, I called you here to listen to you.”

I took a sip of the tea, which was hot, but not too hot. It had a little too much milk, and so much sugar that there was still a mound on the bottom of the cup, but was at least pleasant from a temperature perspective.

"Well,” I started, “I’m not sure how much I can offer. So much was going on behind the scenes, and I felt like I was in the dark about most of it. I know this was the only senate meeting I’ve ever been to, although there were two. And maybe you know, but why call the whole thing the meeting but the little thing the session?”

“That is an interesting question, and perhaps we can speak about it later, but continue on for the moment.”

“It was hard to process what I actually did see."

“It was?” she replied. “How hard to process?”

“Well, I didn't really believe it.”

“You didn't believe what you were seeing?”

“Not really, um⁠—”

“I suppose the Senate sessions must have changed dramatically since I last attended. They were largely old men and women quietly plotting against each other.”

“I meant more metaphorically I guess. I thought there was more... that the Empire was more unified.”

“Ah. That’s the strangeness you encountered?”

“I guess? Maybe? I don't know. Like... Shouldn't there be unity?”

“Why, yes, of course. But that is not the way of the world. But having power tends to make people believe they know the best way forward. So while it may have seemed like division, they are aiming at the same goal.”

“The strongest Glaton?”

“Yes. At least, in an idealized world,” she said, laughing a little. “I would imagine this this was a moment where all those power-hungry fools saw their chance and threw everything to the winds in an attempt to get it. It was a unique moment of possibility, and that makes most everything more interesting and unusual, don’t you think?”

“I guess.”

“Just imagine — it was a rare point in time where those who hold just a small amount of power might gain sufficient leverage over those who hold much more.”

“Huh?”

“Well, how much control do you have over the Emperor?”

“Not much?”

“Exactly. Yet while the election was underway, you could have the chance to extract something from the individual who would become Emperor, or from a rival house, or a magnate of industry who has some tie to the potential Emperor, or so on and so forth. And this sort of topsy turviness is rather rare, not even a generational event so much as once in a century sort of a thing. And so for many of these people, instituting plans, doing what they might in such a way where the very fabric of Glaton’s society could go in a different direction entirely. Which, from what I hear, was something that very nearly happened. So, I understand how you could see it as a moment of division, but it's also the time when a great deal can be built between people, families, or houses. And, I would argue, during such a time of tumult, the true nature of the individual comes out. So it would make no sense for all these individuals to be following the same line, so to speak.”

“I guess that makes sense. But for this session, I mean, the whole thing with Katja Baeder was just unbelievable. That she could orchestrate a way to have us all killed, and damn near pulled it off!”

“Oh, yes, tell me more about that!”

I started into the story of the night at the ball, of being there in that circle, and how I was able to push through. I neglected to bring up the weird voice that offered me power and glory if I chose to support it. Seemed like a detail worth keeping to myself.

“I wonder if I might get his highness' permission to write a letter to Miss Baeder prior to her…” Hetsetsa paused. “Well, whatever happens to her.”

“What do you think will happen to her?”

“Well, typically, the charge for something like this would be treason. And that would mean execution in such a means in which the severity of the punishment is measured positively against the seriousness of the crime.”

“What does that mean?”

“High treason against the crown is quite bad, and, therefore, the punishment is supposed quite bad, matching. And whomever wrote this law⁠—”

“Aren’t you the historian? Don’t you know?”

“I do, but would it matter if I told you that Adelai Wintergate came up with it?”

“No.”

“Good, because it was Lewhit Gehent. And it was done because they did not want to restrict the Emperors from deciding how much they wanted to punish those who did the treasoning. However the criminal is killed, when they are dead, they are subjected to drawing and quartering. And then burying their remains in the five terrible places, such that there is no chance they find peace in the afterlife, nor that any may bring forth their body to be reconstructed or resurrected.”

I smirked. “The five terrible places?”

“It is a strange rule from long ago. I've always thought it barbaric, the quartering. But alas, I am a historian, not a lawmaker, am I?”

“I guess. Seems like it just sets up a quest to visit five spots and dig up remains.”

“If only they were just spots you could dig! One is an acidic caldera.”

“How do you bury something in a lake of acid?”

“I also heard tell that there was something going on underground,” Hetsesta said, completely ignoring a question I thought was pertinent.

“Oh,” I replied, “I can't tell you about that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have literally been ordered not to tell anyone anything about what you might have heard about underground, which I can neither confirm or deny, or even really... Actually it's kind of a gray area in what I am allowed to tell you. Except that I can't tell you anything, so I guess it's not that gray.”

“You can tell me nothing of what happened underground?”

"Nope, nothing. I’ve got an Imperial restraining order on discussion of anything related to whatever you may be asking."

Hetsesta frowned. “I dislike that intensely.”

“Sure, you know, I get it. I don't like not being able to talk about it, either. But here we are.”

“I was planning on writing about all of this.”

“Well, you’d have to talk to Valamir about it.”

“I doubt he will be overly joyful to hear from me in that regard.”

“Well, probably not. He's kind of intent on keeping it a secret.”

“That is quite a bother.”

“I’m sorry. Hey, I know this seems weird, but I need to have someone come and look at your apartment.”

"What?" she asked, an eyebrow arching up ever so gracefully above her surprisingly sparkly eyes.

“We need to figure out why your door locks.”

“A question I can answer — because there is a lock on it.”

“Well not just that, but to examine everything in here. Do all your doors work?”

“Yes, Montana, my doors work.” She sounded like she was talking to a toddler.

“And all your locks as well?”

“Of course. What is this about?”

“Just some issues we’re having in other quarters. I’m going to have Lee come and look. You can talk his ear off about history if you want. He loves history.”

“I suppose that would be acceptable.”

I summoned a prinky, who stared at me for a second. Then it looked around and saw the other prinkies. The other prinkies paused and stared at the newcomer. It almost seemed like they were about to fight.

“Okay, hey! Look at me,” I said to the newcomer. “I need you to go fetch Lee. Bring him back here and have him examine any and all mechanical aspects of this apartment.”

The prinky blinked. Suddenly I had the feeling that there was some interchange between us that I hadn't really understood before. Like he was accessing my brain and getting some memory he wanted… and then he ran off.

I must have made a nasty facial expression because I felt a hand on my knee, and looked over to see Hetsesta smiling at me.

“You all right?” she asked.

“I, um — are prinkies telepathic?” I replied.

“There seems to be a measure of that, yes. Have you not noticed before?”

“No, I… no.”

“I have observed them to have some capacity to intuit aspects of your orders or desires without your conscious inclusion of such things in your verbalizations.”

“Oh, so they look for, like, who I mean when I say Lee?”

“Yes.”

“That’s kind of incredible.”

“They are indeed a fascinating creation. And are you sure you’re unable to tell me more about what transpired whilst you were away?”

“I mean, I think it’s probably more important for me to know more about what happened here.”

“I would imagine it is. But I am more interested–”

“Can’t talk about it,” I said, getting to my feet.

As I did, I felt the slightest pull back to the couch, like I had to fight my impulse to leave.

I glanced at Hetsesta, and saw a strange look on her face, one that disappeared as soon as she noticed I’d noticed her. Just as quick, her smile returned.

“I so appreciate you stopping by to keep an old woman company,” she said. “Though I do wish you’d stay to finish your tea.”

“I’m not sure what more I have to offer you,” I replied, “at least conversationally. And I’m pretty sure I need to go meet with the council. And I really don’t think that’s tea.”

She gestured to one of her prinkies, Reginald I think, who walked to the door and opened it for me.

I kept the smile on my face, despite being very much weirded out by the strange interactions between woman and prinky, and left.

Also where had her second prinky come from?

31

In all honesty, I had zero intention of going to meet with the council. I was more thinking about going to my own room, since I was already tired of everyone.

Of course, I didn’t make it there.

Most every council member had sent some flunky out to find me for a meeting. So I ended up being delivered to the council chambers with no less than six minders. As I approached, I could hear raised voices. They were muffled enough that I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but clearly people weren’t happy.

I thanked my minders and strode inside.

Conversation stopped, and all eyes fixed on me.

Interim Chancellor Skeld had a wolverine-ish grin.

To his right was the lifeweaver Timurlan, who ran our farms. Maybe it was just my time away, but it seemed like his leather-y baseball mitt skin had softened ever so much, becoming more like a ranching glove instead of baseball. His white hair was tamer, with two braids done around in such a way to keep the rest of his long hair out of his eyes. But he still had dirt under his finger nails and the sort of musty smell that came from playing in soil.

Harmut sat next to him. His face was red, as if he’d been working out. Or yelling. Or both.

An empty chair was next to Harmut, but there were notes on the table in front of it, as if someone might have run off. In fact, looking around the room, a lot of chairs were empty.

Baltu the snowbold had empty chairs on either side of him.

Eliza sat next to her father, Lord Northwoods, placed so I would naturally sit next to her at the opposite end of the table from Skeld.

Rounding out the group was Tarryn Flynn, my warmancer, Flint Frostycliff, head of the brewery, and Wian Stokes, current leader of Coggeshall’s military.

I stood in the doorway for a moment to let the room come to order (not that it needed much help) and then I went to sit down.

Eliza smiled at me.

I smiled back. She looked tired.

I didn’t say that, though — I’m not that stupid.

“So,” I said, leaning back and doing my best to ignore the protests of my chair, “what’s on today’s agenda?”

“I was just appreciating how you decided to join us,” Lord Northwoods said. “As well as questioning your chancellor, who seems set on hiding you away.”

“I haven’t even been back a full day! I wouldn’t say I was hiding. I was moving through my holding and investigating things. And I’m here now, so let’s get into it.”

“Would it not be better to wait for Lee to return?” Skeld asked.

“No,” I said. “Lee’s doing something for me. We can put a pin in the whole gremlin thing for a few minutes, okay?”

“Your grace,” Northwoods said, “I would say that is remiss, being that the ‘gremlin thing’ is one of the most pressing issues we face–”

“Right, but we all know about it, and Lee is investigating a promising solution for me. So let’s push on to the rest. I spoke with Harmut about NorthFort already, so we’ve got that covered, right?”

“Yes, your grace,” Harmut said.

“This is not how things are traditionally done,” Northwoods said, frowning. “The council should hear–”

“Right, but supposedly there’s a lot on the table here, no?” I said. “So let’s stop making things difficult with pointless protocol and focus on actually fixing things.”

And that’s essentially how the entire meeting went. Northwoods couldn’t help but just talk at everyone, including me. Which, you know, it’s not like he was talking nonsense — he clearly had a solid grasp on Coggeshall’s problems. Way more than I did at that point.

Timurlan gave a rundown on our agricultural programs, including forecasts for food production and how that might affect our population. We were still planning on feeding everyone, which, I could tell, was not something that made Northwoods overly enthusiastic.

I could sort of understand his hesitation. It was a tremendous expense, but one I thought made sense because it allowed us to be in control of everything. And wasn't that what we all wanted?

The forecast looked okay, at least as far as I could tell from what they were saying. It seemed we were on track to have sufficient stores to last the winter, and to be able to maintain our current population growth trajectory. I missed having Lee there, because he would draw little bar graphs and charts that made it a little easier for me to comprehend what I was hearing. I've always been a visual learner, in so much as I was ever a learner of things.

“How will the new horses fit into all this?” I asked, but seeing the look on Timurlan’s face already gave me the answer. “Not a fan?”

“They were not exactly in our planning,” Timurlan.

“Do they require a lot of, um, grass?”

“Yes to grass, also grains. They are voracious eaters and tend to be… unpleasant if left underfed for long. Additionally, they need quite a bit of space to run, and they need hands⁠—”

I waved my hand at him.

“Not those ones. They need a job, something to do. They need to be ridden around and… well, kept busy.”

“I thought you’d think they were cool.”

He sighed at me.

“From a purely academic point of view,” Timurlan said slowly, “I am interested in them. Especially the manner in which they came to be, whether that was a natural evolution, or if there were some other means. But realistically, I do not have space in my mind to handle studying them. At least not at present.”

“Did I mention the cows?”

“Cows?”

Skeld put a pouch on the table and slid it over to Timurlan.

Timurlan raised an eyebrow at the pouch.

“Cows,” he said.

I nodded.

He took the pouch, held it up, and then closed his eyes. “Ah.”

“That’s it?” I asked.

“What’s it?”

“You know what they are?”

“Of course. I’ve eaten cheese made by these types of cows. I am surprised they are here, but⁠—”

“But how’d you… oh, magic, right?”

“Yes. It would appear magic has its uses. If you are asking whether I prefer the cows over the horses, I do somewhat. We have more a use for them, and they will take up less space. Darius will be happy to have them. And they actually produce something for us. The horses… well, they are not as useful here. They are unlikely to be suited to work as draft animals, unless you are quite persuasive with them, and there is not exactly an overwhelming need for heavy cavalry here. Unless…” he looked over at Wian.

Wian just shook his head.

“Not that I can think of,” Wian said.

“Right, well. I recognize the importance of these animals, especially since I believe these are the only ones of their kind outside of Mahrduhm, so I am not in any sense implying we should sell them, or otherwise get rid of them. We should keep them happy and safe. To that end, I think we look into increasing paddock space outside of MountainHome. Perhaps add in some walls, as well as putting forth a plan to offer some form of winter grazing and riding inside MountainHome.”

Harmut grumbled at that.

“We are short on masons and miners as it is,” the construction chief barked. “We need to finish NorthFort before we take on another–”

“After NorthFort then–” I said.

“It is not just that, your grace,” Northwoods said.

And so we moved on to talking about space and housing constraints. Several issues had popped up because of the number of units available and the growing waitlist. While we could offer everyone their own bed, there wasn’t a grand desire to remain in the communal sleeping spaces that we’d originally planned as barracks. People understandably wanted their own space, and we weren’t progressing at a pace that could provide what Harmut considered adequate housing for everyone that was already here, as well as projected newcomers.

There was substantial pushback on that idea. Skeld pointed out there hadn't been any recent population growth. That the whole concept of projected newcomers needed to be reworked considering they were completely off. Our visitor numbers were way down, and so were our imports and exports. The population of the valley as a whole seemed to be holding steady, at least what he could see via the town pages. He didn’t think we were in danger of losing our holding status, but he felt we should have seen an increase in our percentages, based on there being more people living in Coggeshall now than prior to the Goblin Wars.

“Oh,” I said softly. He’d neglected to mention a rather important part of that equation: the percentage hadn’t changed even though our numbers grew AND I’d massacred a whole group of others. He didn't put it that way, but I knew I’d painted the valley in blood.

"It means," Skeld said, and then he paused. “Well, I'm not sure what it means.”

"It means there's someone else here," Tarryn snapped. “And they’re growing.”

The warmancer had been quiet up until then, so it struck me that this was when he broke his silence.

"Okay, so if someone else is in the hold," I said, “and they don't belong to Coggeshall, or the Empire, who are they? And where are they?”

There were no answers.

“Okay, so let's send some rangers out to find them.”

Skeld nodded and made a note.

Then the door opened, and Lee came in with his usual calm demeanor, quietly sitting down at the table before arranging his notes and papers in front of himself.

Normally, we would have continued our discussion, but everyone just waited for Lee to look up at the rest of us.

“What?” He asked.

“You have something?” I replied.

“I did as you requested. It is exceptionally curious.”

“What is?” Northwoods asked.

“The doors of our historian’s quarters are operational. As are her locks. And everything else within her space.”

There was a stunned silence.

Lee nodded, as if addressing unsaid statements from his fellow council members. “It’s a little early for me to make any, um, hypotheses about why, but I do have a theory.”

“Are you going to share that with us?” Northwoods asked.

“No. It would be foolhardy to go down that pathway at the moment. I want to have a better idea of what might… I know this is frustrating and I, again, apologize for causing all these issues, but now is not the time for us to move too quickly in search of a solution. I need to study things more carefully–”

“Isn’t Hetsesta normally supposed to be in here?” I asked.

“She is…” Skeld said, “or at least she’s invited.”

“Seems like she is seeing some of the reasons why prinkies are so nefarious,” Tarryn said. “Barely ever comes out of her quarters these days.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I asked.

Tarryn looked at me like I was the idiot.

“Anyone else get it?” I asked.

“What I mean is that the prinky was originally designed as a means to combat wizards and magic users. I know everyone thinks they are just fun little helpers, but they have other more insidious abilities.”

“Such as?”

“They take over personal tasks so you become dependent upon them. They keep you comfortable and make you happy so you dislike being away from them. It was said that wizards could become trapped in their towers by the prinkies, making clothes for their prinkies, making tiny furniture, casting prinky-specific spells. Often, entire lives became devoted to the prinky and the wizard never returned to the study of magic.”

“Really?” I asked. “I didn’t really… I guess that makes sense. Just…”

“I believe that particular topic can be handled in a single question,” Northwood said. “Do they pose a danger to the majority of us who are not magic users?”

“No,” Tarryn said.

“Then it’s not important for the moment,” Northwoods said. “Shall we move on?”

And thus we did.

32

There was a lot more conversation, and I will admit that I started to tune most of it out. I just didn’t have the capacity to pay attention for that long.

Somewhere deep into the evening, they finally stopped talking. I tried to get away from everyone, but Skeld caught up to me and followed me down the stairs.

“Where are you headed?” Skeld asked.

“Downstairs.”

“But you live upstairs.”

“Well aware.”

I kept moving. He kept following.

“Do you need something from me?” I asked.

“I figured there might be some action steps you’d want to know about.”

“Really?”

“Maybe I should rephrase that. I hoped there might be some form of personal accountability for taking care of the holding.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of you?”

“You realize I am not looking to hold this position much longer.”

“Then find a replacement.”

“Wait really? What about–?”

I stopped him from going on with a look. “Let’s hash out the particulars when we have a little more privacy.”

“But that could happen?”

“What?”

“Me finding a replacement.”

“Sure.”

“Excellent. Also, where are we headed?”

“To the hospital.”

“You’ve got a problem?”

“Lots. But I need to have a hard talk about Nathalie. And your predecessor.”

“Oh, I see.”

He followed me in relative silence, and I appreciated having the space to think.

The hospital was near the entrance to MountainHome. We built it there on purpose, to reduce the amount of time it took to see someone who’d been injured. Just a few turns off the main hallway.

It surprised me how quiet it was despite being so close it to the main artery, with the bulk of our population moving along that thoroughfare. But just a short distance away, there was this little quiet area where people fought for their lives. And it just seemed so incongruous to be so close to normalcy. Or, maybe this was normalcy, and I was the fool who spent too much of my energy elsewhere.

As soon as I walked into the reception and triage area of the hospital, the staff seemed to know why I was there. The receptionist moved quickly to go get her boss, one of the chief healers.

I didn’t stop to wait, continuing back into hospital itself. It had grown some since the last time I’d been there, going from just a single long room filled with beds to something that was closer to a modern healing facility. Sure, there was still that main open room ready to hold anyone in an emergency medical situation, but there were now stairs leading up to individual rooms.

“This way,” Skeld said softly, pointing to the stairs.

I went up, following my friend.

Skeld paused at a door way two flights up. He moved slowly, quietly, into a silent hallway with rooms lacking doors all on one side. I looked inside as we passed the first room. Just a bed with a window looking out across the grassy fields of Coggeshall. Empty, though.

Nathalie and Clarissa shared the last room off the hallway, one slightly larger than the others, and the only one that had its singular window covered with a heavy curtain. The scent of sickness hung heavy in the air as I stepped into their dark room. They seemed to almost trade breaths, one breathing in as the other exhaled, a rattling noise that I’d only ever heard on the cusp of death.

I stood there looking and listening, trying to understand what I was there to do.

Something touched behind my knees, and I looked down to see Skeld holding a chair.

I sat.

“There has been no change,” a new voice said. A woman in white stepped around me carefully before she went and opened the curtains.

Sunshine poured in, but it did little to push away the heavy darkness of the room.

“Are you—” I started.

“I am a healer here,” she said. I had a better look at her in the light. She was younger than I’d expected, but very serious, with limp blonde hair framing a long face. “Eloise Mitchum, your grace. I have been overseeing these two for the last few months.”

“And there’s been no difference those months?”

“They wither, your grace. Slow decline.”

“But no movement? No wakefulness?”

“No.”

I reached out and took Nathalie’s hand. It was cool, like the bare minimum of blood ever made it all the way out there.

“I had the venom researched in Glaton, at the Enderun,” I said.

“I presume they had no success finding a cure?”

“They did not. They said that their testing showed the brain died before the body.”

“Ah,” Eloise said. “They are dead, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“You do.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, because she was right. I knew they were gone, but it didn’t feel like it. Not when they were still there, breathing before me.

“Isn’t there something that can be done?” I asked.

“To do what, your grace?” Eloise asked.

“Save them?”

“If you do not have a cure with you, no. And from what you have told me, even if you do, it would seem we would stop the venom only to find them as they are now….less than flesh golems.”

“Don’t say that,” Skeld snapped.

“Would you have me lie to the duke?”

“You may still show respect to these⁠—”

“Show respect?!” She shouted.

I winced, thinking that her volume had to have some effect on the sleeping women, until I remembered they couldn’t actually hear her.

“I have bathed and cared and cured these two for longer than any other patient of mine,” Eloise continued, her emotions barely under control. “I have seen a fortune spent on these two, far beyond what I could ever expect to earn or hold myself. We have used more healing herbs, potions, and spells to keep them here in this sad state, more so than on any other patient we have had in this holding. I think about how much we could have done with all the supplies we have used here, and I am saddened twice over: at the waste and at their waste. How I long for these two to wake. How I come in every shift with the hope to see a sign of life, and how I leave every shift with despair. You ask me to respect them, but I love them as if they were the sisters I left in Lettspik. For I have spilled my heart out to them more times than I care to admit. They know all my secrets. I would harbor a guess that all who heal here have come and spoken with these women. We have put our all into everything for them, and to see that this is the outcome? I can count the number of times you have visited your grace, and you? I have never seen you here. You can tell me you care about them. You can wish there was something more to be done, but we have done all we could and then some, and this is what we have managed.”

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Thank you, Eloise. This is so hard for everyone, and you’ve done more than I can ever really understand.” I let that sink in, and thought about making a decision. “It’s just.. Is there anything we can do? Is there a miracle out there? A flower that only grows in⁠—”

“There are boundless legends of miracle cures, your grace. And as a healer I have to put stock in none of them because I have never seen a single one work. But if you order me to continue keeping them in this state, I will do so, in the hopes you may come up with a miracle.”

“What would you do if it was your decision?”

“I thank the gods it is not.”

I crossed my arms across my chest and and absentmindedly leaned back in the chair. As if the chair itself understood the gravity of the situation, it held.

“Skeld,” I said, “I need counsel.”

“Ask.”

“What do we do?”

He sighed, and scratched at something in the wooden doorjamb.

“I really dislike this job,” he said. “But having been in it for a minute, I have tried to face hard decisions by looking at what is first best for the Empire, then the holding, then the town, then the family, then the individual. If we remove any emotion from who these two are, they are a large drain on our pointedly finite healing resources.”

“They require multiple potions per day,” Eloise offered. “Not to mention having a healer on shift around the clock.”

“That is a lot,” I said.

“And there is no telling what state they may be in if they do awake. If it is as you learned at the university, then they will not waken even if the venom is healed.”

“Wait, is the venom still active?”

“Yes,” Eloise said quickly. “The venom continues to eat away at them in mulitude of manners, and we use what potions and spells we can to reverse, delay, or minimize that. But we have not found the means to stop it completely.”

I stood and walked past the burning glare of Eloise so I could lean my head against the glass and look out the window at the grassy field below. A man played fetch with a dog. Three young children played tag. A kobold dug out of a hole.

“Skeld,” I said, “can you get the kobolds to not dig holes in the field?”

“What?” he asked, coming next to me to look down. “Son-of-a— I will be right back.”

He hurried from the room.

I sighed. What wasn’t what I’d wanted.

What did I want?

I really only had one last card to play.

I closed my eyes and I prayed.

33

Ididn’t notice opening my eyes, but one second, it was the darkness of my eyelids and the next I was laying in a vague whiteness next to Mister Paul. The god was on his belly, looking down through a fluffy hole at a man reading a book on the porch of a beautiful little hut on a field of tropical grass, an ocean just a hundred yards away, its waves gently lapping on a white sand beach.

“Is this a cloud?” I asked.

“It is,” Mister Paul replied. “This time it was sasiest to bring part of you to where I was. So, here you are.”

“You hang out in the clouds?”

“I go where I need to go when I need to be there.”

“What an answer.”

“Thank you. You prayed to me?”

“I did. Can you heal those two?”

“No.”

“Resurrect them?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It is beyond my powers, Montana of Coggeshall.”

“But you’re a god.”

“You more than others should know there are limitations on even the gods.”

“You brought Skeld back.”

“No, I did not.”

“Oh, that was⁠—”

“Something you should only have the vaguest memory of. But I can tell you it was not me who did that. And even then, it was a grand ask.”

“So you brought me here so you could deny my request to my face?”

“You are not one to accept denial well. I thought this might make you understand.”

I grunted, and stared down at the man. I wanted a second to process things, and if Mister Paul wasn’t going to be rushing me along, I was going to take that moment.

The man turned a page, and pulled a pen out from behind his ear to make a note in the book. We were quite high above the dude, but I felt like I could see him better than I should, given the distance.

“That is thanks to me,” Mister Paul said. “A little bit of magnification⁠—”

“Wait, I think I recognize him,” I said. “Is that⁠—”

“No,” Mister Paul said.

“I’m pretty sure that’s⁠—”

“Even if it is, it’s not. And you will not mention it.”

“Why? I’ve seen⁠—”

“Must you always push?”

“I want to say no, but…”

Mister Paul frowned, and did a little thing with his hand to make the magnification go away. If I squinted, I could guess where I thought the house lay. But the pull back to actual cloud level revealed a gorgeous tropical island with a huge mountain, that was currently smoking.

“Is that a volcano?” I asked.

“Perhaps someone just forgot their popcorn in the microwave.”

“Is it about to erupt?”

“No, it has already begun.”

There was a crazy sort of noise, and a huge chunk of the world went flying up toward us, then seemed to slow down until it was just crawling through the sky.

“Now we are out of time,” Mister Paul said, getting to his feet and brushing off bits of cloud that clung to his otherwise perfect suit. “You ask why I cannot heal them? Because they are beyond healing. They are, as you have learned, dead, though their bodies continue along, held in that realm through arcane means. Already, their spirits have passed into their next lives, their next realms, whatever awaits them.”

“So I should let them go.”

“It would probably be the best course of action.”

“And there’s no way to resurrect them?”

“There are many ways to do that, but none that would do as you hope. The lord of death, god of the threshold, is a jealous and exacting being. He does not like giving anything back that has crossed to him. The cost is always ridiculously high, and there is no way to restore who they were after their spirits have already gone through.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you not understand, Montana?” Mister Paul asked firmly.

Suddenly I was no longer looking up at him from my position laying on the cloud. I was standing in front of him with white wisps of cloud mist rolling off a thousand points on my body.

“If I bring them back,” I asked, trying to get what he was saying, “they’ll be zombies?”

“That is one possibility. And, of the possibilities, one of the better options. They might be humans at sight, but ghouls at heart, eating corpses and hunting humanoids. You could be asked to give a thousand innocent lives to bring just one of them back, and they’ll be mad from seeing what they should not have seen. I cannot do this for you. I beg you to let them go, for there is no way to get them back. They are gone. You may do something awful and have their flesh rise again, but is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Let them go.”

“I will.”

“Thank you. Now, I must go convince this fool that he is dead and could use a new life,” Mister Paul said, squaring up his suit.

I reached out and fixed his tie, which didn’t really need fixing.

He looked a little shocked I’d done that, but gave me a smile.

“Thank you,” he said. “I know making these choices is unpleasant, but you are strong enough to do so.”

He stepped through the clouds and my eyes popped open.

34

Most of the hospital staff had gathered when they’d heard my orders. I’d said I would do it, that I should do it, that they might as well die by my hand, but Timurlan and the head healer led me away. They let me know there were humane means to let Nathalie and Clarissa go, and I didn’t need be there. The staff would probably be better able to say their goodbyes if the duke wasn’t watching over them. And they’d be more willing to do their work in the future if they didn’t have to see the duke killing their charges.

I was finally allowed to go to my quarters, where I was fully alone for a time. And I didn’t know what to do. I felt useless, that letting these women die was an abject failure on my part. Even though I knew that wasn’t really true. I’d done my best. I’d saved a lot of people, I just lost a few.

I hated losing even a single person.

Maybe because I wanted it to be me. Was I happy to lose myself if it meant someone else could live? Could stay?

Part of me wanted to punch the wall, unleash a little aggression, but I knew that wasn’t the answer here. That it could go very poorly. Not only would I damage myself — I had the strength to damage the damned mountain. But that could cause other problems.

I went into the shower area and pulled the chain to unleash all the water.

The chain came off in my hand.

No water came.

There would be no shower.

Then, while I was naked, as vulnerable as I could get, my nemesis launched an ambush.

Teeth sunk into my calf.

I glared down at the book biting my leg.

“You fucker,” I said, and I felt the rush of rage.

I went after that book like I’d never chased any other creature before. I tore the room apart, throwing furniture out of the way until the room was little more than a blizzard of feathers with a haze of splinters.

The book, however, managed to keep ahead of me. The damn thing launched itself through a window, breaking the glass as it punched through the pane. Then its pages snapped out into fucking wings, and it straight up flew away.

I watched it go as my minotaur guard hurried into the room, clearly having gotten used to having no one to watch over. It took them at least five minutes and the wholesale destruction of my quarters before they got there.

“How the fuck,” I started, staring at the disappearing flapping form of what had once been an etiquette book. “Did that— I mean, did I drive it to evolve or...”

“Your grace?” A heavy horned face appeared at my shoulder, the minotaur looking at me like I might be crazy and might attack him.

“That,” I said, pointing out the window. “Do you see that?”

“The bird?”

“It’s a book.”

“A book? That thing that’s flying? Did you throw it?”

“No, it leapt out the window and flew away.”

“A book.”

“Yep.”

I turned around and leaned my bare buttocks against the stone wall.

“I’m naked, aren’t I?”

“You are, your grace.”

“Okay, well, I think I need to find clothes and a broom.”

“Of course, your grace.”

35

There was something nice about a fight, especially where no one had gotten really hurt. I mean, I got bit pretty bad, and had it not been for my insane healing abilities, it’d probably taken forty stitches to get my leg closed up. But I could heal, and I hadn’t managed to land a single worthy strike on the book. Even so, I felt better. A little rage-borne catharsis.

But at the same time, part of me, deep inside, longed for a death. That this little bout hadn’t been enough violence, that I wouldn’t feel true healing unless I took a life. Preferably more than one.

Well, that was fucked up. I tamped the feeling down hard, ignoring it like an addict.

I threw myself into fixing up my quarters, and after a lot of cleaning, I found a bedroll and slept out under the stars on my balcony. Nearly all the way through the night.

In the morning, I wrote a missive to the Emperor about the death of his… relative. Nathalie was his cousin once removed? Second cousin? Niece? I couldn’t quite remember, so I just did the best I could, and then I passed it off to Eliza so she could formalized and/or correct it for me. Thankfully, I got to leave MountainHome after that.

I was glad to be heading out, which sounds a little mean, considering I'd only been there for about a day. But there were just so many people, and all of them wanted something from me. Now, I was winging my way across Coggeshall, sitting on the back of my best buddy Fritz as we flew across the valley. It was beautiful.

It was the height of summer, and the valley was in full bloom. Although I guess that would have been spring, wouldn't it? I wasn't sure, but I stopped myself before I went deeper down that path, because I really didn't want to go on a quest to learn about the details regarding when ‘full bloom’ was. Too many accidental quests were already sitting on the backlog. I didn't need another one.

So I enjoyed the greenery, the trees overflowing with leaves, vast fields of grass rippling in the wind. Everywhere I looked, I just saw natural beauty. No danger. No monsters lurking in the shadows, though they were probably there. No goblin armies marching. It was just peaceful.

The lake in the center of the valley, with its weird black rock island, shone an unreal blue, almost indigo. It took my breath away as we flew across. I looked down at a beautiful slice of life, complete with our reflection staring back at us from the lake. I smiled and waved. Had Fritz been able to chuckle, I think he would have.

Harmut and some of the others who needed to get to NorthFort were tucked back on the main rider portion of Air Fritz. I rode in the position of pilot, even though all I did was just sort of hang out with my bird buddy, going where he wanted. There was literally zero chance of making him do anything he didn't want to do. Goddamn bird outweighed a house.

Taking in the glory of Coggeshall Valley made me think — and not for the first time — that I needed a map of this place. I had gotten a map from Léon, but I couldn't remember where it was. Where could I have left it?

You have been offered a quest:

Find the Map

Simple, a magical map, the gift a friend long gone, is missing. Find it.

Reward for success: The map, XP, unknown

Penalty for failure (or refusal): You will be lost without a map, right?

Yes/No

I sighed, but accepted. Not only was the quest actually useful, there was that not so subtle threat there as the penalty. Though it did sting that I had to have a whole quest for finding something that already had been given to me.

I needed to come up with a better organizational system. If I could convince some other member to join my hir∂, then maybe I could convince them to–

You have been offered a quest:

Add a Member to Your Hir∂

This is a time-limited quest. You must find a suitable individual and convince them to join your Hir∂ prior to learning of the betrayal.

Reward for success: A new hir∂ member, increased hir∂ points, increased hir∂ point efficiency

Penalty for failure (or refusal): Lose your hir∂ points.

Yes/No

I grit my teeth. What the fuck did that mean? What betrayal? How would I know if I’d⁠—

I accepted the quest, I couldn’t see any way I could not do that, especially considering merely refusing the question would wipe out the hir∂ points, though, to be fair, it’s not like I’d been spending the hir∂ points and I told myself right then and there that I needed to look at the hir∂ points and spend them. Except… if I was going to be getting more and there was some bonus to their efficiency… maybe it made more sense to hold off on the point spend until I got a new hir∂ member. Maybe I could pawn this one off on Skeld. Get him to work on someone who felt the need to belong, and—that sounded bad.

And I had to remember to look for this betrayal that was coming. Except… didn’t it say that it was before I leanarned of the betrayal? Which meant that as long as I was ignorant of it, I could wait to find the hir∂ member, so maybe I could tell Skeld to just keep all news of betrayals from me…

Fuck.

I needed to stop all trains of thought before they could get me off track any further As much as I loved flying, I hated how much time it gave me to be in my own head. Which is a terrible place, because I’m a world-class asshole to myself with no idea how to stop. And apparently no idea how to stop all the other thoughts swirling around my head, as was evidenced by all the pointless fucking quests I had.

Most of my thoughts this trip were about Coggeshall, for once. I’d finally started to get to the point where I wasn’t thinking of home as Detroit, but Coggeshall. And I wasn’t really thinking about the girl, except when I was thinking about not thinking about her. Which was irritating. Why couldn’t I let her go?

Sitting up there in the sky, feeling the wind in my hair and wishing there was more of it (hair, not wind), I wondered what I wanted for my life. It was my second go around, sure, but maybe this time I could make some good fucking decisions for myself.

Luckily, since this was just a quick trip up to NorthFort, I didn’t have enough time to really start beating myself up. We flew up, got a little bit of sight-seeing in, and then descended on the construction zone. I was a little dismayed that it wasn’t done, but, then again, it’s not like I’d been helping make that happen in any way.

And to be fair, NorthFort was a bit complicated. It was the one spot in Coggeshall that hadn’t been blessed with huge cliffs and big mountains forming a natural boundary. Up here, we had a river, a waterfall, and a little lake, and then a perfectly open route from our valley into what looked like pretty hill country to the right (the east) and what I could only presume were big fuck-off plains to the left (the west). So we had to put up a big ol’ wall.

Well, it had started as a wall, but now we were shooting for a wall plus some housing. Which made more sense, seeing as it was so far from MountainHome. There needed to be a place to house the poor schlubs guarding the wall.

It looked as if there’d been some rather significant changes to the design since last I’d checked. Which wasn’t all that surprising, since I hadn’t checked in forever. I mostly just trusted the people I’d put in their positions. Weird managerial concept, I know, but it was mostly working for me so far. I had a vague memory of plans for a small gatehouse on the east side of the waterfall, but now I was looking at the beginnings of a much larger fortress. It had a keep, more walls and some very tall towers. The towers seemed to be a big design element — a quick count gave me fourteen of the fuckers.

The wall spanned all the way around the little lake and the waterfall. Which meant that, as a whole, NorthFort looked like an ellipse with a line coming out of either end. But the ellipse had another, smaller ellipse within it, which was the fortress. And within that smaller ellipse was another… okay, the metaphor barely holds together at this point, but a circle-ish shape with a line coming out from two sides is really the simplest way to describe what it looked like from the air.

A really nice road led into where one of the gatehouses was being constructed. It was wide enough to let two wagons go by, with room on either side for horses and other travelers. I had to admit: I was weirdly proud of our road.

There was something of a tent city in place, where all the workers were living while they built the fort. It wasn’t exactly glamping, but I’d seen the requisition forms and knew that we were doing what we could to make it a comfortable home away from home until the actual home portion of the project was finished.

Even though we’d reached NorthFort, we didn’t stop. Instead, we flew across the construction area and out onto the plains a little. I wanted to get a real sense of the entire area, not just Coggeshall.

You could see a long way out when it’s flat as fuck and you’re high as shit. Which was maybe a slogan I’d seen on a t-shirt while delivering ‘goods’ to a Juggalo Gathering once.

Even so, there wasn’t much to see. It was just a lot of not-yet-amber waves of not-yet grain. Just tons and tons of grass waving gently in the breeze. I’m sure there were some animals here and there, maybe even some monsters, but nothing that I could easily spot.

After the peek at the prairie, we winged over the hill country to the east. Again, nothing really jumped out at me. It was just the world. I’m not sure what I expected. If Mahrduhm’s army had arrived at the wall, I’d have received some message about it, probably a desperate missive for help. But they weren’t there, and there was no sign of them yet.

Fritz glanced back at me, I assumed checking if I was done.

I nodded.

He banked hard and we came back to NorthFort.

I looked down at the construction happening. There was a lot to do.

The walls were very thick and rather tall, and there were a lot more of them than I remembered. I was legitimately concerned about getting it done in time.

I had no idea how long it would take Mahrduhm to get to us. Maybe we’d get lucky, and that massive invasion force had turned around. There was always the chance that the losses suffered at Rumib Pass were enough to force the Dark Queen to rethink her aggression.

The effects of the gremlin infestation were exceptionally apparent. What had once been large construction cranes were now just piles of equipment bits lying around. Hundreds of souls pulled huge stones around, not on wagons but on sleds. Everything was going back to what was old-fashioned, even for this place.

Fritz brought us in for a landing at a large open field not far from the tent city. A delegation had formed to meet us, but they were far enough from our landing spot that they started to run to us. I didn’t feel like waiting for them, so I started off to meet them.

Harmut caught up to me and put a gentle hand on my arm.

“Let them do it,” he insisted.

A younger dwarf with big brown eyes, a massive bushy beard, and a ready smile that you could just barely see under a masterful, massive mustache led the group. As he stood there smiling at me, I started to see more and more of a resemblance to Harmut. I could see a broad smile forming under Harmut’s beard, which I totally wasn't jealous of.

"Burning my hair off," I muttered as I cursed the skies.

No one seemed to hear me, or if they did they ignored my antics. I thought back to something Eliza told me, about how these people had a vision of a duke, and that sometimes I needed to be that for them. So I stood up a little straighter, and tried to embody duke-ness.

The dwarf dropped to one knee and said, "Your Grace, you honor us with your presence."

“It’s an honor to be here,” I replied. “It would seem things are progressing.”

The smile vanished, and he gulped.

“They are, your grace,” he replied.

“Is he related to you?” I asked Harmut.

“Aye,” Harmut said, “my nephew.”

“Okay, nephew of Harmut, you’ve done a good job. How can I help you do a better one?”

36

Harmut made introductions and then excused himself to lie down, since he didn’t feel well after the flight. That seemed to be the case with everyone I’d brought along on Air Fritz, and suddenly I was left with just Elmer, the nephew.

“All right, Elmer, show me what’s not working,” I proclaimed.

He paused for a second, and then just sort of gestured at everything.

“Okay, well, what can I do to help get things working? And how far away are you from, what, um, functional completion?”

“I can give you a tour,” he replied, “but I’m afraid I do not quite understand what you mean.”

“Well, this place needs to stop an army, one that is likely on their way right now. So how much time before that’s possible?”

“That would depend on the army, your grace,” he said. He looked stricken, as if he was only just being informed of this particular issue.

“Huge. Awful. But hopefully not expecting to deal with a fortress here. I really have little in the way of specifics.”

“It has been reasonably successful so far in dealing with, um, attacks.”

“What attacks?”

“Um… Can I just show you?”

“Sure, show me then,” I said, trying hard to hold back the rising irritation.

He scurried off toward the wall, and I walked slowly behind him. He was a short dude, even for a dwarf, at least a head shorter than his uncle. I had no idea how old he was, nor how mature he was, or, pointedly, how he’d gotten this gig. I mean, I had some nepo-baby theories, but…

We went through the first gatehouse, which was currently having its archway built, so a lot of scaffolding blocked our way. But there was still a small path to the main courtyard. When I last visited, there had been an actual cliff face in the middle of the fort. That logistical challenge had been solved by building a massive ramp that extended our road down in a gentle slope. It made it easier for a wagon to go up and down, but it also took up a ton of space. And that meant that we had expanded the size of the fort to allow for the entire ramp to be within the walls. So now a traveler from outside would have to make their way up the ramp and then to the second gatehouse before they could get into Coggeshall proper.

It was a neat idea, but I didn’t really understand the thought process behind it.

The external gatehouse was mostly done. The arch was complete and there were spots for doors and a portcullis, but they hadn’t been put in place yet. And that was kind of how it went for all the areas of the outer wall — the finishes weren’t there, but it was close. There were no crenellations at the top of the wall, nor any sort of fall protection. Just the kobolds, busy using the tried-and-died ‘do-not-fall’ technique.

We went through the second gatehouse and saw that the tunnel was prepared to handle serious warfare. Lots of murder holes. Huge stones stacked and locked together to make what seemed like an impossibly wide wall. There was a real sense of weight to it, enough that I felt uncomfortable passing through. I noticed more than a few individuals back on the other side, eyes watching me, arrows at the ready.

“While it has been somewhat of a challenge operating without any, um, firm block in place,” Elmer said as we progressed through the gatehouse tunnel, “we have been successful in fending off various attacks.”

I had to squint when we came out the other side, holding up my hand to block out the brilliant sunshine.

The river was off to my left, not quite rushing, but a little more than just burbling along. It was rather wide and shallow at this point, and ran through heavy metal bars and another arch.

Grasses spread out in front of me, and I realized that our road sort of ended, going from flat paving stones to compacted gravel and sand to grass within the space of about ten yards.

Off to one side was a group of soldiers with large shields and long spears. They were mostly lounging about, but then they noticed me and Elmer, which caused them to hurry to their feet to stand at attention.

“Our guard has performed exemplary work,” Elmer said.

“What have they had to do?” I asked, watching the soldiers get themselves together. They were quick about it.

“There is, um, a fair amount of… maybe it would be better if I got the guard commander to tell you about it,” Elmer started walking very quickly toward the group of soldiers.

A familiar-looking burly fellow took steps toward us and stood in front of the gathered warriors.

“Carpophorus!” I said, smiling at my cranky fight instructor who was looking substantially happier out here in the line of danger as opposed to teaching my noble butt to fight properly. And, by happier, I mean that he only appeared vaguely grumpy instead of outright angry.

“Your grace,” Carpophorus said, his voice a deep gravel.

“You’re in charge here?”

“Of sorts.”

“And you’ve been seeing some action?”

“Of sorts.”

“Like what?”

“Bit of this, bit of that.”

“I forgot how verbose you are.”

“Indeed, your grace.”

“What are we talking about? Monsters?”

“Yes.”

I waited a second, hoping he’d expound on things.

He did not.

“Established militaries?”

“Not as yet, your grace.”

“Humanoids?”

“Some.”

“Can you…” I grit my teeth and tried to channel my inner Valamir. How would he get someone to open up about military issues? I realized that since Carpophorus was the commanding officer of the gathered troops, maybe he wasn’t comfortable having an open conversation with his boss (me) around the underlings. Valamir would probably have invited the man in for a drink. Or had a tent set up where the two could talk. And there’d likely be a map involved.

I really needed to remember where I put that stupid map.

“I’d like a few minutes to talk with you,” I said. “Would you come over here with me to the river?”

I didn’t wait to see if he would come; I just headed over to the river and stood at its bank.

I watched the water move, slowly and hypnotically. Everything about it was almost painfully perfect. The river flowed like honeyed silk, not too fast, not too sluggish. The rocks along the bank were smoothed by time and patience, and where they jutted into the water, they formed tidy little eddies, breaks in the current where smaller fish gathered, nibbling at whatever the river had for them. And where the small ones gathered, the big ones weren't far behind. It was just right for casting a fly over those eddies to where a fat old trout might be resting. And I could use that dumb ol’ fly to tease out that monster slow and deliberately, confident that he was king of this stretch until⁠—

Watching the water made my fingers twitch. The river had just enough depth to keep the fish feeling comfortable and safe, but still shallow enough to let the light glint off their backs as they swarmed. I caught sight of a school tucked down in the pools formed behind a group of half-drowned logs, fat fish lurking beneath the overhang of tangled roots, holding in the easy current.

Near the arch, our construction had… not ruined things, but made it so that the fish weren’t as happy there. The sand was wrong, and the rocks were off. There was no longer food for the little fish, and so the big fish had followed their food. But just around the bend from the arch, the river came back to life. A lazy stretch of water that would be damn near perfect for half a dozen recreational activities, none of which were possible in this new life of mine.

I sighed, watching the gentle ripple of a fish feeding just beneath the surface. The kind of rise that makes your breath catch, because you know — you know — if you could just lay a line across that seam, just drift it down, natural and unhurried, there’d be a battle worth remembering.

But I couldn’t do that. Not me, not the duke. The man who is supposedly all fucking powerful, able to do whatever he wants, he can’t do the one thing he wants to do, which is fucking fish in this perfect fucking river. That’d be too easy.

For one, my rod was back in MountainHome.

Why would I leave it somewhere when I could just keep it in the magic bag that can hold everything? I had the magic bag with me since we’d put supplies for the camp in there. More food, some barrels of ale, comforts to boost the morale of the workers. Why not anything for myself?

Because I fucking knew that if I brought it with me everywhere, it would hurt even more when I couldn’t put it to use. I wondered if I’d ever find the life I thought I’d get in this world. Just me and a cabin and a river.

Probably not.

Instead, my rod was at home and I was left to admire the water and merely dream of fishing.

It sucked standing here, knowing exactly where I’d cast, exactly which fly I’d tie on, exactly how I’d work the line so that the drift would be perfect. Knowing all that and having no way to use that knowledge.

The river was perfect, but it was wasted on me.

Fuck.

37

It was definitely wasted on Carpophorus.

“You want me to stand guard you while you take a dip in the river?” he asked me.

I glanced over at him.

“No,” I replied, “why would I – you know what? Never mind. I want to know what’s going on out here.”

“We are training up the newer recruits and incorporating them into one cohesive force under your banner, your grace.”

“And fighting off what?”

He sighed. I think he honestly thought I’d been given sufficient information, and was irritated to have to continue speaking to me.

“It’s a blend, your grace. Mostly nasty larger creatures from the plains to the west, and bands of smaller creatures that come from the east. We recently dealt with trolls. And before you ask about fire spots in the grass, there weren’t none. The trolls weren’t keen on pushing through our defenses. They came to the wall, did some poking ‘round, decided we weren’t worth it, and went north. I had scouts follow for a day or so. They returned and reported no deviation, that the trolls were headed north.”

I stared across the wide valley to the mountains rising in the north. They were markedly different from mine — gentler, older, with more of a transition from tree-covered hills to dark gray stone. Which, given the distance they apparently were, meant they were fucking tall as fuck.

“Information,” Carpophorus said, “that was all in the reports.”

“What reports?” I asked, confused.

“The after-action reports we send after each action, and the training reports at the end of each week.”

“Who gets those?”

“Here? Elmer, head of the project. I presume that Skeld Woodingson and Wian Stokes get them as well, though I am not sure who is currently in charge of things, militarily. Pardon your grace, but would it be safe to assume you have not been privy to any of my reports?”

“Pretty fucking safe.”

“I see. Then I apologize for my curt attitude previously — I thought you were asking me to perform for the troops, like a useless clown.”

“Are any clowns useful?”

He gave me something that could potentially be considered a smile, if you were really being generous. But I think it was as close to enjoying a joke as Carpophorus ever got.

“Apology accepted,” I said. “Now, can you give me a summary of what’s been happening out here? And maybe also an analysis of why you think what’s happening is happening and–”

“You want me to read you the reports to you without reading ‘em to you.”

“I just want the summaries. And maybe the stuff you didn’t put in the reports because you worried the pencil pushers might not like what you have to say.”

“Being that you was the one what said Mahrduhm is marching this way, I figure you already guessed one part of the equation.”

“The army is pushing stuff in front of it.”

“Might not be the words I be using for that, but it is similar to my analysis of the situation, your grace. And the second would be, I understand, because of an interaction you had with a certain tribe or herd of centaurs round about last fall. Does that sound right?”

“They’re pushing behemoths at us.”

“More’n that. Most everything they can get this direction. But based on you getting those two crucial elements, seems as if you might not need them reports.”

“Maybe.You think these walls are going to stop all that?”

He looked over his shoulder at the wall and shrugged. “You planning on getting something to patch that hole up?”

“What hole? The doorway?”

“That’d be the one.”

“Yeah, I imagine we can get a door in there.”

“If we get a working door, I think it’ll be a good fort.”

“And without a working door?”

“We can hold it, but you’ll need more bodies here.”

“More than you have at present?”

He nodded.

“Now I ‘spose you want to talk about Mahrduhm, eh?” he asked with a sigh tacked on the end.

“Either that or how the training is going.”

“Shit. Training is training. Nothing worth pointing out, save I’d like to have more than time I think we have, eh?”

“Sadly true.”

“Well, given the increase in contacts and actions of late, I ‘spect that army be on our doorstep ‘fore too long. So you want to talk Mahrduhm?”

“Not exactly what I’d like to be talking about, but I don’t think we can ignore it.”

“Sure as shit we can ignore it. Tends to be the chief tactic of them Legion officers. Ignore it until it’s either your emergency, or better, someone else’s problem. Now would I recommend that strategy?”

“Probably not.”

“Wouldn’t be prudent, your grace. But it might make the rest of your summer enjoyable. Likely wind up with us joining the Dark Queen and her conquest for, well, whatever she wants. But we could most certainly ignore it until such time as we lose the option.”

“Let’s not though.”

“Better. Prefer you to be active with what you want, your grace. Bit tired of them talking heads back in, whaddayacallit, MountainHome?”

“Yeah.”

“MountainHome. NorthFort. Coggeshall Brewing Company?”

“Right.”

“Really stretching the limits of creativity with the names here.”

“You got any better ideas?”

“No.”

“I think you do. I’m going to make Skeld talk to you⁠—”

“Knowing that I swore an oath to you, your grace,” Carpophorus said through clenched teeth, “if that furry chancellor of yours asks me a damn thing regarding the names of anything in Coggeshall, I will stab you a thousand times a day until you are little more than a collection of holes surrounded by the reminders of flesh.”

“You do know I can heal from a thousand stabs.”

“Countin’ on it. Otherwise you might die and make me break that oath of mine, which I would dislike intensely.”

“You’re not dissuading me. Only a creative motherfucker would come up with a threat like that.”

“I’m afraid my creativity only comes out when describing the pain I’d like to inflict on those who annoy me.”

“I mean, might come in handy. But that brings us back around to Mahrduhm. You think this will stop them?”

“Doubtful the wall itself will. It has been some time since I faced Mahrduhm in the field, but from what I hear, there’ve been more’n’a’few changes under that Dark Queen. Time was, you put up obstacles to a heavy cavalry charge, and Mahrduhm was likely to go somewhere else. But now it seems they’re happy to take on a siege. Tough to siege this, though. Got everything we need on our side. But if the Queen brings a big enough army, holding this will require you.”

“Me?”

“Don’t pretend to be surprised — I know what you can do, and I know you know it too.”

“I’m not surprised — I’m looking for clarification.”

“You could hold this gatehouse on your lonesome, without the door, against most anything I can think of. Outside of perhaps, nightmares and legends. Course, I’m not sure you can hold the whole wall. With enough of an army, they can put pressure across the whole wall, and given time and enough pressure, something’ll give. Then we fall back to hold MountainHome. Which’ll be its own nasty bit of work, and you will, again, be required to actually hold the place. ‘Specially with the length of wall we have to hold.”

He thought for a second, and I let myself get distracted by a fish snatching a fly off the surface of the river..

“If we pull inside MountainHome, that’s different. Or that brewery you got — that there be one puzzle I would hate to crack. Course, you might get a whole heap of differences of opinion with Wian and Harmut and Lee, whether MountainHome or the Brewery is the last stand point, which troops go where, what we are willing to lose so we might win… Any way you want to slice that pie o’death, them three made sure our redoubt is maybe the best spot to weather damn near any nightmare scenario I can dream. Not sure I’d want to actually live in there, but obviously I bet my life it’ll hold against damn near anything.”

“Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I said. “I’m with you — much nicer out here by the river than holed up in the middle of a mountain. You think we can hold them out here?”

He looked back at the wall, then picked something out of his teeth, looked at it in his fingers, then popped it back in his mouth and chewed.

“Depends,” he said.

“On?”

“You solved the gremlin problem?”

“We’re working on it.”

“If you can solve that, we’ll have a fort in time. You don’t… then I start to wonder if’n we just pull back, leave this until next summer.”

“You think it will still be here?”

“Doubt anyone’ll take the time to tear it down if’n we leave an easy way through it. But unless the whole wall is set, with doors and weapons and guards and food, not no way we can hold Mahrduhm from pushing through to Coggeshall proper, your grace.”

A bell rang out, and Carpophorus’s head snapped away from the river toward the forest and hill country to the east. I followed his gaze, and saw a small group of figures standing at the top of the hill.

“One bell is east, two is west,” Carpophorus explained as he strapped on his helmet and jogged over to his soldiers. “FORM RANKS EAST!”

The soldiers were already in motion, forming up what seemed like a classic shield wall to me, sliding into position to block the tunnel leading into Coggeshall with just a little cheat over to the east.

Carpophorus looked up at the wall, and I saw a man leaning over the tallest tower, not yet complete but clearly useable, using hand signals to communicate whatever he saw to Carpophorus.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Refugees.”

“From?”

He shrugged.

The figures up top were clearly having a discussion about what they were seeing. The big wall, the soldiers.

“Is this a common occurrence?” I asked.

“I would not call it common,” Carpophorus replied, “but there have been a few.”

“Do they ever come talk to you?”

“No.”

“Do you ever go speak to them?”

“No.”

I was about to go out and talk to the refugees, but they turned around, and went back down the hill.

“That’s why,” Carpophorus said. “They never stick around very long.”

“You don’t look very welcoming.”

“That’s by design.”

“Sure,” I started, but Carpophorus had his attention on the man in the tower.

“They go north, to the mountains.”

“Where the trolls went?”

“Yes.”

“Are you concerned about that?”

“About the trolls or them refugees?”

“Um—”

“Do you wish to claim this land, your grace?”

“Huh? What land?”

“All that we see.”

“No–”

“Then why would I concern myself with people who are not mine, who have not asked for my assistance, on land I bear no responsibility for?”

“Guess you’ve got me there.”

“Thank you, your grace,” he said. Then he walked along the shield wall, and started pointing out problems.

One shield held weak, which stemmed from the soldier holding it incorrectly. One helmet loose and falling into the eyes of the woman wearing it. The form-up had turned into a training exercise, one he’d write about in a report I’d never read.

I stood near the gate entrance, just watching the land in front of me, wondering what I was doing, until I sensed someone new standing next to me. A glance down, and I saw Elmer also looking out at the plains.

“Terrifying out there,” he said softly. Then he turned and walked back inside.

In all honesty, I’d forgotten I’d been on a tour with the little dwarf, having gotten more than a little sucked into the whole military thing with Carpophorus. It was more my scene, destruction as opposed to construction.

Elmer continued the tour of the site, and I got a pretty decent picture of things. Lots happening and lots left to happen, but not quite as bad as I had feared. Given the picture Lee and Harmut had painted, I’d been expecting to find a whole lot of nothing. This was, at least, something.

38

Tour over, I went around the area and tried to do what I’d been told to, which was to boost morale. I gave compliments, acted excited, and did what I could to pitch in moving really heavy stones into place on the wall. It was, well, not fun, but I enjoyed the relative simplicity of things. Take specific huge rock from the pile, place where directed, feel great when it fit perfectly.

It took the supervisors a little time to get used to ordering me around, but I think they liked it. Eventually they started yelling things like, “Pick up the next stone already, your grace” with aplomb. Started to feel like they were throwing on the ‘your grace’ as if in competition with each other.

And not to toot my own horn, but I definitely helped get that inner wall section complete. So, toot toot.

39

At day’s end, I busted out the food and ale, and that turned things into a party. And by party, I mean a rather subdued meal where everyone got to have an extra mug of ale. I thought we’d really be turning things up to eleven, but I guess I’d spent too much time in the capital, with all its constant balls. The construction crew were all tired, and the soldiers were all a little tense. No one wanted to get blasted and wind up troll dung.

Which I was grateful for.

Midway through the not-party, while I was sitting next to Harmut listening to him give his nephew too much advice on construction management, a young dwarf came scurrying over to me.

“Your grace,” he said with a slight bow, “I have a message for you.”

“Hit me with it.”

He frowned, and then threw a piece of paper at me.

I blinked a few times.

“That’s not what you meant, was it?” the messenger asked.

“No, but, um, that’s what I said, so–” I shrugged and grabbed the paper off the ground.

Montana,

Cut your trip short. Need you here. Yuri has returned.

-Skeld

“Thank you,” I said to the messenger.

He’d turned beet red, and seemed relieved he could hurry off and disappear into a tent.

“Does he just sit there and watch over a paired notebook?” I asked.

Harmut glanced my way. “Who?”

“I just got a message from the dude in the tent over there.”

“That is the office, yes,” Elmer said. “We have someone there at all times in case a message comes through.”

“Ah. Well, one came through. It looks like I need to head home already.”

“Your grace–” Harmut started, but then seemed to change his mind since his tone shifted considerably, “ah, is everything safe at MountainHome?”

I wasn’t sure how much to share with Harmut. There was no expectation of privacy, but still. Being that Yuri was our chief monster hunter who I’d met when crossing Mahrduhm, him returning and needing me back meant one of two things. Either there was a big fuck-off monster he needed my help to hunt, or he’d been unable to find his missing family, and needed my help to hunt. Either way, it meant a new layer of shit had been added to the pile, right on the fucking top.

“More or less,” I said. “Just need to, um, deal with some bullshit.”

“Ah, the new cows are causing problems already?”

I smiled. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Can you at least leave some of your little things here? Like some prinkies?”

“Sure, if you think they’d be useful.”

“They can make a difference, definitely. There is quite a bit of brute labor involved in the current construction, and I am sure Elmer can find something for them to do should we run out of blocks to move.”

“Okay, how many do you want?”

“How many can you summon?”

“I don’t think I’ve yet found a limit.”

He raised an eyebrow.

I shrugged and took a sip of the ale. Tasted like beer.

“You want to find out?” I asked.

“I doubt that is wise, your grace. There is such a thing as too much help, especially if it’s not especially trained help.”

“Okay, how about a hundred?”

Harmut looked over at Elmer.

“I presume I will be here for at least another few days, correct?” he asked.

“Far as I know. Though you can stay here as long as you want to be.”

“Then give me five hundred. Will they listen to me as well?”

“I think so. Just depends on what their starting orders are,” I said.

I glanced around until I spotted a mostly empty area, a field where there had been lumber used for scaffolding until we’d set up the scaffolding earlier in the day, and I closed my eyes. I reached for the feeling of the necklace, and summoned prinkies into that field.

A lot of them.

We were in the neighborhood of five hundred, but I’d stopped counting and just tried to estimate based on how much space they took up.

The more prinkies that arrived, the quieter the non-prinky crowd became. And being that prinkies are basically naturally silent, it was increasingly weird to have so many beings in one area without any noise.

“Prinkies,” I called out. “You are here to work for Elmer,” I pointed to Elmer, “and Harmut,” I put my hand on Harmut’s shoulder.

The prinkies stared at me, and I realized that I had the opportunity, needed to take it.

“Can… you… dig… it?!?” I shouted.

All the prinky eyes shifted over to Elmer.

Which I took to mean that they dug it, but there was no shouted reply. It would have been marginally better had the prinkies all been dressed up in themed outfits befitting imaginary neighborhoods, but oh well.

“Uh…” Elmer said.

“And by dig,” I quickly shouted, “I mean do whatever they tell you.”

I smiled and gave Harmut a slap on the back before slipping into the darkness.

40

Iwalked back to an open field that had become the de facto Air Fritz terminal. No one went with me. They were all still at the party that didn’t feel much like a party. Although I could see fun starting to happen now that Elmer had a grand glitter of prinkies to order about.

The huge Alpine Roc sat in the field. I wondered if he was asleep, but one of his massive eyes snapped focus on me as soon as I got near.

Fritz squawked a hello, and I told the big guy we needed to wing back over to MountainHome, and he’d come back out to pick up Harmut in a few days. He nodded and then gestured for me to get on.

We were off, the roc powering his way into the night sky.

Only moments after take-off, I was agog. The moons weren’t up yet, so a panoply of brilliant stars blanketed the entire sky. Like a god had thrown diamonds across the universe. We were high enough up that I could see what felt like more than a sky's worth. I tried to imagine that somewhere amongst those stars was the lowly sun, but I didn't think that was the case. This had to be its own separate universe. At least I think it did.

Feelings welled up inside me.

Sadness.

Nostalgia.

Maybe something else. A blend of emotions all connected back to the old world. My old home. A place that I didn’t have what I would consider a great life, and yet… Was this homesickness?

I thought on my last flight I was past feeling this way. When would I stop being fucking homesick for Earth?

I wondered if Lee had these feelings… but Lee had a full life there, with loved ones and a genuine purpose. Of course he’d miss those things.

I, on the other hand…

I grit my teeth and forced myself back to the present. To smell the pine, feel the cold air, the odd but comforting warmth of Fritz. I followed that up by paying attention to the world passing beneath us. Looking at my beautiful road cutting through the wilderness. At the lake in the middle of the valley, with its strange rock. At the tiny sliver of the Emerald Sea I could glimpse over to the southwest. I was surrounded by the greatest nature I’d ever experienced. I was sorely tempted to have Fritz just fly into the Emerald Sea a little, to explore that part of the world and have an adventure without having to worry about anyone or anything else.

41

Probably no surprise to hear that is not what happened.

We went straight to MountainHome with no detours. Because it was just me on him, Fritz came in hot, landing hard in the open field area.

Skeld was already waiting, and he gave me a wave.

“Do you just wait out here, hoping I’ll show up or something?”

“You’re really asking that question?”

“Yes,” I said, hopping off Fritz.

“We can see you coming. When I know you’re on the way, I ask to be told when you’ve been sighted, and then, yes, I wait here for you. That’s part of my job, isn’t it?”

“Oh,” I said. “I guess.”

Behind me, Fritz spread his wings, ready to take off, but Skeld held up a hand.

“Not quite yet, Fritz,” Skeld called over.

Fritz nodded and pulled his wings back in.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Where’s Yuri? Your note was rather cryptic. You want to explain things to me?”

"Why don’t you ask me the same question four more times, in only marginally different manners?” Skeld sniped, but then he stopped. “I’m sorry. I keep catching myself saying shit like that. Do you think maybe Nikolai wasn’t such an asshole before he took the job?”

I frowned, thinking back to my original chancellor, who’d been the first person to help me learn to be a duke. To be a leader and a ruler, but who had been somewhat shit at both helping me and managing Coggeshall.

“Well, I think it’s a hard job,” I said, “and it doesn’t help that I suck at being a duke. Kind of makes everything worse. So, um… do you think it’s cursed?”

“The job?”

“Yeah. Is there some turn-into-an-asshole curse that got placed on me or the job or Coggeshall?”

“I doubt it. But we do have a coven of witches living here — I could ask them to look into it.”

“Maybe, just to rule things out.”

“I will add that to my list.”

“See, but that’s the thing: now I feel like an asshole for asking you to look into that because you have a ton of shit on your list. I should do it.”

“Well, it’s kind of important for me to know if I’m the one being cursed, right?”

“Maybe, but–”

“And you have things you have to do.”

“So do you.”

“But my things aren’t quite as, what? Time sensitive. Because you’re not staying here — you’re getting back on Fritz and continuing south.”

“Why? Or, I mean, where?”

“Yuri.”

“He needs me?”

“Yeah–”

“And you don't know why?”

“I don’t have the specifics, no. Which was partially why I didn’t write it all out in the note.”

“What’s the other part of the reason?”

“Half to keep the details of what’s going wrong under wraps. Half because I just don’t really trust paired journals when I don’t know how many journals are paired together.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong for doing that. I know for sure that we’ve got more than a few spies in Coggeshall.”

“Valamir?”

“And those are just the ones I know for sure are here,” I said.

“Lovely. Always nice to have your allies spying on you, isn’t it?”

“Right.”

“Back to the issue at hand,” Skeld continued, “I don't know what's going on except that Yuri needs your help in a little town to the south. I thought it better for you to just go try to solve the issue instead of me trying to press for more details so I could explain things to you prior to going, especially since you tend to ignore things like information, warnings, and guidelines in favor of just beating whatever problem you face into submission.”

"Oh okay, when you put it like that, it makes sense."

“I am short on information, your grace, but I know your friend has called for aid. And before you ask why we are not doing, what was it you called it? The full press?”

“The full-court press.”

“Is that because the full court presses? Like all the nobles work together?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Intriguing. I bet that never happens. Anyway, I love Yuri and I know we should all have the full court pressing together–”

“Let’s just use a different phrase.”

“Sure. But I know you have expressed your desire for every person who goes missing, especially when children are involved, that you would like the full — wait, what are we saying now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Right, well, whatever we are going to call it, what you mean is that you want everyone in Coggeshall marshalled and sent into action.”

“That’s been what I’ve thought in the past, yes.”

“Wait, have you hanged your tune?”

“No, but it sounds like you’re going to explain to me why I should change that tune.”

“Yes! Because of the optics, your grace. There are other people here, and if they see you and all the military types armoring up to go out on what will appear to be an emergency quest, there will be panic. And panic is never good.”

“What if there’s a situation where panic is justified?”

“When is panic justified?”

“Gobthulhu?”

“Perhaps. But what good does panic do?”

“I mean, I think there are times where panic is useful. Like, to help get everyone inside when there’s a primal deity-being coming to massacre everyone–”

“I suppose that might work, yes. But your grace, with respect, we can’t commit the entire duchy to chase after one missing child, or even a missing family. Not in the way you are picturing. The moment we mobilize like that, we stop looking for a lost boy and start telling every man and woman in this duchy that something is beyond our control. Fear spreads fast, and once it takes hold, it’s damn near impossible to put back in the proverbial bottle. We’ll have parents pulling their kids from the fields, everyone staying inside not just MountainHome, but maybe even not leaving the safety of their individual homes. Trade, as little as it has been, will grind even further to a halt, and we will not even be making the good required to keep up what you’ve promised everyone. Not to mention that putting so many boots on the ground requires an enormous outlay of resources we cannot refill.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

“What we do have, however, is you and a few select helpers who can go out, get Yuri, and find Yuri’s family. Quietly. If we turn this into a crusade, we lose a lot more than just that family.”

“But what if what we need is a little panic to get people moving?”

“Your Grace, Montana. Stop with the panic. I get that maybe occasionally there might be a reason for a full-blown court thing, but⁠—”

“It’s a full-court press. Why can't you remember it?”

"I don't know, your grace. Maybe because I'm tired and stressed out and I — there's too much going on and my little otter brain doesn't work that way. Especially since I'm not even a fucking otter anymore. Fuck."

“Take it easy there,” I said softly. “Might be that you’re smarter with your new brain.”

He frowned at me.

“I mean, look at Ragnar,” I said.

Skeld raised an eyebrow and tried to hold a straight face, but then he broke and grinned.

“Anyway,” I continued, “let’s just agree on this for the moment. And for right now you’re saying that I need to go and find Yuri and he will explain things. Is that correct?”

"Yes, that is my thought on the matter."

“Okay,” I said, clapping my hands together. “Where am I going?”

Fritz squawked, not loud, but enough to make himself part of the conversation again.

“Right, tell him too,” I said.

“Well, you're not going alone, Your Grace,” Skeld said. “I thought it useful to have some others with you to balance out your skill set.”

Amber and Darius the minotaur had come out of MountainHome at some point, and I saw them walking in our direction. Darius seemed to be wearing something like a heavy fur coat, which was weird because he was a minotaur, which meant he always had on a fur coat of a fashion. But also, you know, height of summer, so it’s not like it was cold enough to warrant a coat, let alone a massive fur one.

Just then, a head on the fur coat snapped up, followed quickly by four others. Then that fur coat became a mass of eight-legged super weasels. They looked like a bunch of furry adolescent alligators. They streamed across the field in a sort of furry wave that crashed on me, swirling around, all trying to lick or bite me. I was somewhat overwhelmed by the affection.

“All right, enough!” I snapped. “It's nice to see you too, but⁠—”

“Line up,” barked the minotaur.

All five superweasels lined up in front of me, sitting at attention. Which was a little weird because when they sat up, they had six legs on the ground, and their two front legs kind of functioned more like little arms. They glanced back at Darius, who nodded, and then brought their focus back to me.

I nodded. "All right. Darius, are you coming too?"

He looked a little confused, and then he shook his head.

"No, your grace," he said.

“The superweasels?” I asked.

“I imagine they would be overjoyed to join you, but⁠—”

“I don’t think that’s a wise idea,” Skeld said.

“Bit more work until they’re ready to visit urban areas,” Darius said. “But it has been a long time since they’ve seen you, and they miss you.”

“I mean, you can come with them–” I started, but Darius cut me off.

"There's already too much to do here. Between the new horses who are… a lot, and the cows you just introduced, I find myself somewhat overburdened. But Timurlan and I are interested in the prospect of building a herd of these cattle."

“What’s going on with the horses?”

“Your grace,” Skeld warned.

“Right, focus. Amber, are you coming with me?”

“I am. After speaking with the other rangers, it was decided that I would go again.”

“Not that I mind that, but why? No one else wants to work with me?”

She gave me a wry smile.

“Or,” I said quickly, “you just love spending time with me so much that you overruled the rest.”

That got an eye roll.

“It has been a busy summer in the valley, and most of the rangers are out keeping watch on certain regions. It seemed easier for them to keep up on their current projects instead of, you know, having them tell me–”

I held up my hand. “Got it.”

“Right, so, I'm coming with you to help with Yuri.”

“So you know what's going on?" I said.

“Skeld only told me what he’s told you.”

"All right."

I looked over and saw that Skeld had drawn a map on the ground in front of Fritz. "Yuri is currently in the town of Bergeron, which is on the other side of the mountain, along the royal road headed to Osterstadt."

"Okay," I said, "then we'll go to Bergeron."

"Yes, your grace," Skeld said. "And I know it need not be said, but please try to be quick about this."

"Got it," I said, giving him a thumbs up. He just looked at me, and I could feel the disappointment already. “So I’m just hopping back on Fritz and heading out?”

“Do you need a moment, your grace?”

“No, I mean–”

“Because you do have a moment.”

“I do?”

“We are waiting on one more.”

“Who?”

“Tarryn. He is… late,” Skeld said, looking around as if he was about to see the WarMancer strolling up. He was not. “I thought it would be useful to have someone along who can handle the arcane, being that you lack Bear at the moment.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Just, um, where is he?”

“I don’t know. I’ll just… I’ll find him.”

“Nah, I’ve got a better plan.”

I summoned a glitter of prinkies, the small furry creatures popping into reality one after another, each taking a half second to look around before focusing on me, prepped for my orders.

“Go find Tarryn,” I said, “and bring him here.”

I felt that brain-tingly thing again, and then they ran off.

It would have been better if I had said something like ‘split up and search for the man,’ but I didn’t think to do that in time. So the entire group, two dozen furry idiots, went out in one fuzzy clump, like a bunch of kindergartners playing soccer.

Skeld raised an eyebrow.

“What?” I asked.

He just shook his head, sighed, and strode back toward MountainHome.

“Would you like an update on their growth?” Darius asked, his deep voice surprising me.

“Who? The weasels?”

“Yes.”

“Um, sure.”

“They are growing fast,” he said, reaching out to pet one near him. “I find they have much deeper intelligence than I anticipated, and likely than they are showing.”

“They’re still young.”

He nodded. “I am trying to gauge their maturation, but I just need more, well, data points before I can really tell you anything about how they are progressing.”

“So the update is that there’s no update yet, but that they’re smarter than you thought?”

“Something like that. Well, and also I think they need names. They need to understand that they are individuals.”

“Names? Okay, so what are we talking here? Are they like, dog-level intelligent?”

“At the least. I suspect higher.”

“So what should we call them?”

“Like, beyond Superweasel?”

“Like, Alvin, Simon–”

“Theodore?”

“Exactly.”

“Um, it hasn’t really been on my mind… I’ll think on it.”

Darius gave me a nod. I realized this was probably the longest conversation I’d had with the minotaur.

The whole time, the five superweasels had been watching me, waiting for a command or any form of attention from me.

“Superweasels,” I said, “you may attack me again.”

There was a moment before they rushed me, and then they were on top of me like golden retriever puppies. It was just on this side of overwhelming.

Ten minutes later, the superweasels were gone, replaced with the surly warmancer Tarryn. He looked as if he’d either been pulled from the deepest sleep or yanked from the brewery. Skeld escorted him back — there was no sign of the prinkies. I started to worry about what the prinkies would get up to in their quest to find Tarryn.

I quickly unsummoned them.

“Your grace,” Tarryn grumbled.

“You okay?”

“Yes, just tired. You needed me?”

“I–” I was about to say that I didn’t think he needed to come with us, but then Skeld interrupted me

“We do,” Skeld rushed in. “You are to accompany his grace to the small town of Bergeron,” he pointed to the map he’d drawn on the ground, to an X he’d drawn southeast of Osterstadt but southwest of Coggeshall. “That is the where you will find Yuri, and he will tell you what further assistance is needed.”

A few seconds passed as Tarryn stared at the map on the ground, and, I think, the rest of us expected him to say something. He did not. In fact, I half thought he’d gone back to sleep.

I clapped my hands. “All right,” I said. “Let’s do this.”

42

On yet another night-flight on Air Fritz, going up and over the high mountains that blocked Coggeshall off from the rest of Glaton, we followed the Royal Road a short distance until we saw a splotch of firelight and curls of smoke coming from a small town.

Instead of waking the whole town up by dropping down in the middle of their square, Fritz winged us over to a nearby clearing at the edge of an orchard, a spot where the farmer had cleared the area in order to, I presume, plant additional fruit trees. Once we landed, a quick look around told a different story, because there was a small stone outbuilding barely standing at one end of the orchard. Half the roof had fallen in, and one wall leaned out at a precarious angle. Beyond that was a large barn, more rhomboid than square, and a small farmhouse with no smoke coming from the chimney. Its cozy red door that sat about twenty feet from its hinges.

Clearly, no one lived there.

About three hundred yards farther was the town itself.

Though, calling it a town was remarkably generous. It was more like a somewhat shitty settlement with three larger buildings and a few pathetic houses. It nestled right alongside the Royal Road, providing a quintessential stopover point for travelers who didn’t want to camp in the wilderness.

I helped Amber off the roc. Tarryn grumbled and got down on his own, and then Fritz powered back into the air.

The three of us stood there a moment, and I tried to decide what the next step should be.

It was a truism in this world, with its technological state, that not a whole lot happened at night. There’d probably be guards on the walls. Although, after a second, I realized it wasn’t really possible to traverse the palisade — it was just a wall of pointy logs. And since I didn’t see a tower, there wasn’t a spot for a scout or an archer up high. So it might just be a single guard at the gate.

Besides that dude, there was an extremely off-chance someone might be awake inside the town’s inn. If the town had an inn. More likely, there was a tavern where travelers could pay to sleep on a bench or on the floor. But there was no way that the three of us arriving at this hour wouldn’t cause at least a bit of suspicion, if not outright trouble. Hell, if I saw me appear in the middle of the night, I wouldn’t let me in.

“Should we go into town?” Amber asked, breaking the silence.

“No need for that,” came a gruff voice from the shadows of the fruit trees.

Yuri stepped into the moonslight.

“Hey, Yuri! We’re here to help you."

“Thank you, your grace.” He nodded at Amber and Tarryn. “And thank you as well for coming to help."

"Of course," Amber said. “How would we do anything otherwise?”

Yuri gave us a slight smile. Despite the darkness, I could see that my lion friend was not in a good way. His fur barely hid the darkness around his eyes. His mane was matted, dank, like he’d been in the dirt for a while. His clothes were worn, his boots needed replacing. He looked like a man who’d been running marathon after marathon without bothering to take any rest days.

“I admit I did not realize Skeld would send you so soon,” Yuri said. “There is no need to go into this town, Bergeron. Unless that is your wish, though personally I would not recommend it right now. I have a small camp up this hill. We can rest there and attend to the town in the morning, if you feel⁠—”

“Great, let’s go to camp,” I replied before explained any further. “I have no overwhelming desire to hit up Bergeron.”

Yuri nodded and started walking.

“I will explain to you all I have found so far,” he said, but he didn't keep talking. He just quietly led the way.

I glanced over at Amber.

She shrugged, but was smiling. Maybe she just enjoyed being outdoors.

We made it up the hill in short order and saw a clear demarcation between where the farm ended and where the wilderness took over. A lot of cleared area before intense wood growth. There was plenty of evidence that this area had been cleared a few years back and not as much effort had gone into maintaining it, except within about ten feet of the last of the fruit trees. After that, there was an enormous amount of underbrush and then unbelievably gigantic trees. Primeval style. What was odd to me, at least, was the buildings in the orchard were falling apart, but the orchard itself seemed well kept.

We tromped through the wilds while getting dirty looks from both Amber and Yuri. They could each move almost silently, but I sounded a bit like a water buffalo. Tarryn, despite being both smaller and not wearing any armor, sounded like a marching band on parade. But at least that meant every time I got a glare from Amber, I could just point to Tarryn.

After about thirty yards, we came to a giant tree that had half blown over before continuing to grow up. The strange growth, combined with a huge burl, formed a sort of natural shelter Yuri had expanded upon with the clever use of heavy pine branches and judicious use of canvas. He’d made something along the lines of a large tent, and I could see his bedroll tucked into the rear of the shelter. Out front, a small fire had been banked.

Yuri poked at the fire a little, then pulled something from under a pile of leaves. A heavy stick. He went around the campsite, to various piles, and came back to the fire with a variety of fuel. With a little work feeding the coals, he got the fire going again, and in short order it was a downright homey place to spend the night.

It was nice to have a little extra warmth on a chilly-ish night. I pulled out some bedrolls from my sack of many things, and passed them out to my companions. Tarryn shook his out, dropped it on the ground, then rolled himself up, facing away from the fire and the group.

I blinked and looked over at Amber, and in that amount of time, Tarryn began snoring. Not in the mood for a debrief, apparently.

Amber shook her head, somewhere between impressed and annoyed.

Yuri had placed a small metal pot on top of the fire.

“I thought maybe some tea would be nice,” he said. “I have not been sleeping much, and I know your grace tends to avoid sleep in the best of times–”

“I wouldn't say I avoid it, but I guess I’m not really the best at sleeping.”

“Would you care for a tea regardless?”

“Sure, that’d be nice. Think I got some mugs in here…”

I reached into my bag and voilà, a mug landed in my hand. I pulled it out of the bag and looked at it.

It was a nice find — a delicate porcelain made by someone who had actual skill in the ceramic arts. I set it on the ground near the fire to warm up and grabbed another from my sack. Apparently, I had a matching set of at least three of them. I thought about trying to see how many I had before deciding that was weird.

Amber picked one up, examining it with a raised eyebrow.

“Where’s this from?” she asked.

“No idea,” I told her. Before Amber could press for details I couldn’t give, I kept going, “Yuri, why don’t you give me the rundown? That way we can hit the ground running as soon as it’s morning?”

“Of course, your grace–”

“Unless you need to finish making the tea⁠—”

“I can make the tea,” Amber interjected. “Plenty of experience there. Then Yuri can just talk.”

“Perfect,” I said. “And Yuri, after you tell us what's going on, I think you need to actually sleep. I’ll take watch tonight.”

“Thank you. I will attempt to rest, your grace,” Yuri said, passing a leather pouch over to Amber, which I took to be the tea.

Yuri paused for a bit, figuring things out before he was ready to talk.

Amber put a handful of loose leaves into the boiling water.

“It is always a challenge to arrange long travel through an entire land,” Yuri started, “and I knew there were obstacles and delays my family would face, so I did my best to maintain hope despite my family not arriving in Coggeshall when I expected them. I had been able to communicate with them whilst they were in the capital, and I was apprised of the caravan to which they attached themselves, and when it left Glaton. Based upon an ideal traversal of the western portion of the Empire, I believed they should have been in Coggeshall roughly one month ago. Obviously, that did not happen. After a month, which I felt was sufficient time for an extenuating but not emergency circumstance, I left Coggeshall to find them.”

"Makes sense," I said.

"Where were they coming from?" Amber asked.

“The capital,” Yuri said.

“I think she means before that,” I said.

“Oh. I am from Mahrduhm–”

“I knew that, but–” Amber started.

“Right. I have no idea the depth of your knowledge of Mahrduhm⁠—”

“None.”

“Then they managed to come through Rumib Pass to Arenberg, prior to when things were…”

“War?” I asked.

“Sure,” Yuri replied, then continued. “From there, they went straight through to the capital, which obviously was something that occurred prior to his grace's adventures there or in Arenberg.”

“Would we call it an adventure?”

“Would you prefer I call it wanton slaughter?”

"No, but that’s a great name for a Chinese place."

"I don't understand the reference, your grace."

“Don’t worry. Nobody else gets it either.”

He gave me a nod and continued.

“My family had to come across the pass in secret, and present themselves in Arenberg as if they were refugees from Wechos who had been displaced by Mahrduhmese aggression.”

“Did you leave Mahrduhm just because you met Montana?” Amber asked.

“Support of the duke was certainly a part of our decision to leave… or relocate… but the changes the queen made in the wake of her ascension to the throne made it unwise to remain. There were structural changes in place making it increasingly difficult to maintain the life my family had built, and that our best option was finding a new place where we could ply our trade without such concerns for our future.”

Amber looked like she was about to ask another question, but I gave a quick shake of the head.

"Let's keep it focused on the now," I said.

She nodded, and Yuri seemed to appreciate that he wasn't going to have to break down the internal politics of his previous homeland.

“It is largely immaterial,” Yuri said, “but I do know they reached Arenberg and established themselves in their new identities successfully before attaching themselves to a caravan that traversed the eastern area to the capital. From there, they were in the capital for several weeks, waiting for the right means to make it here.”

“How did they ‘attach themselves’ to the caravan?" I asked.

“Most caravans assume they can pick up a passenger or two between cities, so there are usually open seats for anyone willing to pay. We have some connections within the Caravaners Guild, and that usually gets our family first access to these seats. In the past, that had been the manner in which we would travel Mahrduhm and its surrounds for our hunts. My family intended to go the guild, pay a fee, and take seats upon a westward caravan.”

“So that's what they did?”

"Yes.”

“Could there be trouble with that?”

“I suppose, but I have checked with my allies within the Caravaners Guild, and I have not received any word of issues. I was told they were safely through to the capital."

"You have allies?”

“Yes.”

“In the caravaners guild?”

“Why are you asking this, Montana?” Amber asked.

“Just figured you might have brought that up a little earlier, like when the whole thing went down with the Caravaners Guild and them threatening to blackball us.”

"It did not seem salient at that moment. Had they actually gone through with the decision to, what did you say, blackball us?"

“Yep. Blackball.”

“Okay, had that happened, I would have pressed my contacts for more information. When I ask them what was going on, they expressed confusion. Which led me to believe it was all hollow threats from that local guild rep.”

"Okay, well, I feel better about that. I guess I don't want to just outright hate them."

“I think it is perfectly acceptable to outright hate them. I don't find the Caravaners' Guild to be upstanding citizens in general. But back to my family: after a measure of time in the capital city, they got on another caravan for the second leg of their journey. It was heading to Osterstadt, scheduled to arrive around a month ago. Even allowing for delays, that should have been sufficient time for them to leave the caravan and make the last leg to Coggeshall.”

“Why did they spend so much time in Glaton?”

“They barely made it there prior to winter. It is rare to find caravans moving north or west in the winter, so they had to wait for spring.”

“Ah, got it.”

“It did not seem necessary to hire a private caravan, because staying in the capital, though expensive, was not particularly dangerous at that point.”

“I don't think it's that dangerous now. Do you?”

"I have heard that things are somewhat…problematic there at the moment."

“Problematic? What, just because there's lots of random violence? And there’s not really a police force in place?”

“Yes, exactly. I think those are adequate reasons to want to avoid it. Again though, sticking with what is happening now, I have been tracking caravans, in particular, the one I believe my family took passage with.”

“Did you ask the Guild?”

“They have not verified much of anything, past that it left Glaton on time and it made the first of its noted stops within schedule. But it is not unusual for the caravans to operate between Glimmerhollow and Osterstadt without communicating with the guild. I have checked in with a number of the towns in between Coggeshall and Osterstadt, and it would seem that no caravans have been reaching them. I half wondered if they reached Osterstadt and went inside.”

“Did you go into Osterstadt?”

"I did."

"Do I want to know how you did that? Aren't we at war?"

“Well, Glaton is at war with Osterstadt, but I may have access to a Caravaners Guild badge.”

“So you faked being a member of the Guild, went in, and spoke to the Guild. And they have no record.”

"Correct. Once I discovered that, I moved two towns down the Royal Road, and still there was no trace of them. Then I realized it would be difficult to continue this on foot, which is why I reached out to you."

"So you don't actually need us to go into this town, because you've already checked in here."

"I have. So if you need to go into the town in the morning, for supplies or if you would like to question them, we can. But I see no reason to do anything other than have Fritz to move us to the next town to speak to someone there."

“And that's all you have?”

"Yes."

A quest popped up.

You have been offered a quest:

A Family Affair

Help Yuri find his family.

Reward for success: Increased loyalty for all nonhumans in Coggeshall. Increased friendship with Yuri. XP

Penalty for failure (or refusal): Unknown, but likely the reverse of all the rewards and then some…

Yes/No

I accepted it immediately.

"All right, well, let's wait till morning, or maybe a little before morning. I still think you need to sleep, Yuri."

"Yes, your Grace."

Amber reached her hand out, put it on Yuri's shoulder and gave him a little squeeze. Yuri sighed, and his eyes seemed to grow heavy. She continued to massage him gently, helping him to relax. It certainly seemed like her touch was doing more than it should have, and within a matter of moments he was nodding off. She gently led him down to his bedroll, and soon he was snoring a little louder than Tarryn.

“Neat trick,” I said.

“Not the only one I have," Amber replied with a wink. Then she very politely poured two mugs of tea and came and sat next to me.

43

We were up with the sun, which is a way more common thing to do in a world that doesn't have much by way of artificial lighting. After a bit of a hike, we found a clearing, and Amber pulled out a funky whistle I recognized as something I felt ought to be called the Fritz Fetch Flute. It didn't make any noise, at least that I could hear. But a few moments later, Fritz dropped in like a rock. Which, you know, was fair because he was a roc.

We loaded ourselves on and took off. Everyone operated in moderate silence, somewhere between the ‘I don’t want to talk because it’s early’ and ‘I don’t want to talk because we have to be at work’ sort of feeling. I didn’t really understand, because I was actually excited to be at work. But then again, I’d also spent the entire night awake, bouncing between waiting to get going and begging for something to attack me so I had something to do.

Plus, it felt like I hadn’t really been doing anything lately. Just going from palace to palace, hearing about things I needed to do, but not actually doing any damn thing.

Naturally, there was only one place to go: the tavern. If you wanted to find out about travelers through a small town, that was most definitely the place. And in this town, Steenburgun, that was the largest building in the town with a strange-looking boar’s head carved from some sort of stone and mounted above the door to the place.

“You should do the talking,” Tarryn said as we approached the door, before I’d even managed to get inside.

“What? Why me?” I asked.

“They’ll flirt with her,” he replied, pointing to Amber, “fuck with me, and be afraid of him–” he pointed over to Yuri.

I frowned and raised an eyebrow at the mancer.

“And they won’t be afraid of me?” I asked.

“Nah, these are your people.”

“My people? I’m not⁠—”

“Not your people as a duke — which, by the way, I do not think we should mention — but your people as in they’re like you.”

“I doubt it,” I said, opening the door.

As soon as I saw the customers, I realized Tarryn had a point.

The people, both patrons and proprietor alike, were definitely rough and tumble. The bartender in particular looked to have given up on both life and shaving some time ago. He was going to have to peel himself off the bartop to serve us.

I smiled.

The bartender did not smile back.

“Ain’t serving lunch ‘til midday,” he said. “You want ale?”

“Four of ‘em,” I said, and I pulled a coin out of my pouch as I approached the bar.

He grunted, sighed, made a few noises that I think came out of his other end, and finally pulled hard on a long tap. He filled wooden mugs with something that was definitely liquid and maybe vaguely related to beer.

I put the gold coin on the counter, and he sighed at me before setting the mostly full mug down in front of me.

“You got anything smaller than that?” he asked.

“Maybe you could take the rest as payment for information.”

“I can take it, but you will be sorely disappointed by what I can tell you.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

He shrugged, set the other mugs on the bartop, and disappeared the coin in a smooth, practiced motion.

“What’s it you want to know?”

“We’re trying to track down a missing family,” I started, “and⁠—”

“Might be them trolls.”

“The what now? Trolls?”

The man smiled.

“Ain’t that what’s always hidin’ up in the woods?”

“So you don’t have trolls here?”

“I mean, there’s Danson over there,” the bartender pointed to a man bent over a bowl of something that could either be what he was eating or what he had eaten. Hard to tell if it was going in or coming out. “Seems like he might be part troll.”

Danson sat up straight at the sound of his name. For a second he seemed poised to curse out the bartender, but the sitting up caused the man to fall out of his chair.

“Other than him?” I asked.

“Been mostly quiet here.”

“The family was with a caravan,” Yuri said. “And–”

“Been short on caravans lately.”

“When did the last one come through?”

“Huh, you know what? I can’t recall.”

I put another coin on the counter.

The man raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You think I need help remembering?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

“No. You with the guild?”

I glanced over at Yuri. He had something in his paw and was looking at me for direction. I shook my head.

“We are not,” I said. Then I gestured to Yuri with my head. “Just trying to find his family.”

“The guild gave out some promises about this here road,” the bartender said. “Ain’t followed through with ‘em.”

“What kind of promises?”

“Caravan amounts. Numbers of potential customers moving through. Why else would I come out in the middle of the wilds and spend my life savings putting this place up?”

“And there haven’t been any–”

“Course, maybe them fucks in Osterstadt are to blame, being that they went and did what they did, right?”

“Right.”

“You ain’t from there, is you?”

“Nope.”

“But the Guild…” he shook his head. “Been slow here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You taste the beer, you’d know how slow.”

I looked at the beer in my mug, which I hadn’t yet touched. It was flat, with a less than pleasant smell.

“Okay,” I said.

“We should keep going,” Yuri said.

I checked my coin pouch and realized that someone must have filled it up for me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually put coins in, but I had a relative fortune with me. So I grabbed five coins out and added them to the one on the bartop.

“Get some better beer,” I said. “Maybe the stuff from Coggeshall.”

He frowned, making no move toward the money.

“Not sure I appreciate charity,” he said, “when I don’t need it.”

“Think of it as subsidizing my brewery.”

“You a brewer?”

“No, but I own one. Right guys?”

“That’s right,” Amber said. “And he wants you to buy your ale from him, so, think of that as a signing bonus.”

“We should just send a shipment down here,” I said. “Can someone make a note of that?”

Amber and Yuri looked to Tarryn.

Tarryn grumbled and shook his head as he began opening pouches, looking for some paper and a writing implement.

“This is all very strange,” the bartender said.

“That’s how it goes around him,” Amber said, pointing at me while already heading for the door.

I realized Yuri had already exited, and Tarryn was ahead of Amber. Suddenly I was the only member of the party left.

“Yeah, well, um, have a nice day,” I said, and totally, completely not awkwardly left the tavern just as Danson started to make some unpleasant noises from his spot on the floor.

44

The tune was the same in the next two towns, and after exploring them, we were nearing evening. Both of the places, Dunkelstedt and Hrafnby, were little more than stopover points for the caravan, blended with spots for farmers to live and work. They each had the same set of buildings — tavern, bakery, smith — with the same wooden palisade around surrounding them, and some small log homes rounding it out. Someone in each place told us the same basic issue they were facing: there just weren’t any caravans coming through. There were also the same complaints, that the guild had made promises about the numbers of caravans that would pass by, and how these spots were going to be dynamite money-making opportunities.

The innkeeper in Hrafnby, a man who introduced himself as Hamo the Magnificent, was particularly fired up, and not just over why a town had seven letters in its name but only one vowel.

“I’m pissed as all the hells,” Hamo belted out at us, “and I’m aimin’ to not take any of this bullshittery any longer, being as promises were made to get me and mine to move all this far way from the east. I had a nice tavern nearly paid off there, and yet I came out here to start a damn inn in this shithole wilderness. Now I’m looking to be tossed to the debtors’ prison in but a year, and what is that damn guild going to do?”

Of course, Hamo the Magnificent couldn’t force the guild to do anything, and it wasn’t likely they were going to come along and have a chat with him any time soon. There wasn’t mail going through either, so he was just stuck screaming into the voids.

The four of us walked along the Royal Road, heading south to find the next clearing where we could call on Air Fritz and get back in the sky. All of us moved in relative silence, trying to come to terms with what we were up against.

“I can’t say I’m overly familiar with caravans,” Tarryn said. “Been something of a city mouse my whole life. Or rather, I was an academy tool after being a street urchin. But these caravans are, um, big, right?”

“Relatively speaking, yeah,” I said.

“With wagons and the like?”

“You don’t know what–”

“I do know, but I’m getting to a point, and I figured if I try to get you thinking before that point, maybe you will see where I’m going before I get there.”

“Nope.”

“I think I might be on the same line of thinking,” Yuri said. “Anything moving between the capital and Osterstadt by the Caravaners Guild would be their heaviest wagons, being that many of those wagons would be collecting heavy lumber to bring back down to the capital. Those wagons are used only on the Royal Road, as they are ill-suited for travel on anything other than the Imperial roads and require at least some sort of–”

“So we should be flying around looking for a clump of wagons that are being yanked off the road by bandits?” I asked.

“I mean, we could,” Tarryn said. “But I was thinking something a little different.”

“There needs to be another road,” Yuri said.

“Exactly,” Tarryn said, pointing to Yuri.

“You think someone made another Royal Road?” I asked.

“I doubt to this level, but it seems like someone could have made a junction and shifted the caravan traffic at that fork. So we could probably just look for that fork, instead of stopping in every town.”

“Should make things a little faster,” Amber said.

“I mean, provided we can see it from the air,” I said.

Spoiler: we could.

Well, some of us, at least. There wasn’t enough daylight left for Tarryn and Amber to see what we were flying over, but between me and Fritz, we could. I’d like to take the credit, but it was probably really just Fritz. Because I hadn’t noticed anything when Fritz started squawking and banked hard, letting me, and the others on his back, see a town that was a little different from all the rest we’d flown over.

Unlike the tiny towns that had been plopped next to the road, allowing easy bypass, this place was built all the way around the Royal Road, with gates that could close over the road itself. Its walls were made of stone, not that high or grand, but still, stone, and the Royal Road went straight through the middle of town. And, pointedly, it had a crossroads, where there was a definite northward track.

Even more suspicious, the place was bustling. It still wasn’t what I’d call a city, but so far we’d been hitting up failing hamlets, and this was the first bit of civilization that could be considered a real village. People moved around on the streets, rode horses, and parked wagons behind an extremely large building. Also, there were more than the three main buildings that seemed to come with the Caravaners Guild Big Roadhouse Town Starter Pack.

Maybe the village even had a general store or something along those lines.

“Take us down nearby,” I bellowed to Fritz. He must have heard me through the wind, because he gave a nod, which shook the entirety of his body. If he’d been an airplane, it would have been terrifying. Then he banked in the opposite direction and started down into the woods.

45

Ithought we’d take another night to camp, and then enter the town at daybreak.

Yuri was not on the same wavelength — I obviously should have realized he wouldn’t want to take any extra time when his family was missing. So as soon as we hit the ground, Yuri was off, already hiking his way down to the Royal Road so we could look like we were just normal travelers.

It was dark, and the gate was on the way to being closed. A few stragglers were on their way in, so we just sort of attached ourselves to them and walked through the arch into the town of Tannenwacht. The name was emblazoned above the gate in giant letters lit with strategically placed glowstones. Seemed a bit much. But then again, I could’ve just been jealous that we didn’t have similar branding for Coggeshall. Maybe.

Inside the town, I watched people bustling around various buildings and out to the little homes that lined the outer walls. It was a loud, boisterous night with damn near everyone out reveling. Being so isolated, it made some sense that the townsfolk all knew each other. But it was oddly jovial, to the point where it felt like at any minute, someone would stroll through the main gate, and the entirety of Tannenwacht would call out the Tannenwachtian version of ‘Norm!’

“Seems like this place might be different,” I said.

“You think?” Amber replied.

Tarryn slipped past me and angled toward a tall building made of dark wood with a moss-covered roof. It had a broad front porch, and a bunch of older folk sat on rough-hewn benches, drinking from wooden mugs, engrossed in the day's gossip. A sign with a wooden tankard balanced atop a pine tree hung off the front of the building. The tavern.

I followed Tarryn into the place, ignoring stares from the porch drinkers as I went in. It was warm, and darker inside than I’d expected. Several hunting trophies hung around a large central hearth with a rollicking fire that provided most of the light and all of the heat. A very tall, lean man stood behind a very short bar, glaring at most everyone with equal animosity, as if he was pissed at all of us for interrupting him. He wore a leather apron and busied himself with aggressively wiping the same spot on the bar. Several young women, whom I noticed all had a vague resemblance to the barkeep, wove through the space, delivering drinks and flirting with damn near everyone. They seemed to be the ones running the place.

One had already got to Tarryn, and was escorting him to the only empty table.

I decided to split the party (I know) and went over to the bartender.

It was odd to actually have to look up at someone. He glared down his massive beak of a nose at me.

We stared at each other for a minute.

“What?” he asked.

“I like your roof,” I replied.

He frowned, and then looked out the window, as if that was going to offer him something.

"You a roofer?" he asked.

“Done that job a time or two,” I replied.

“But is it your chosen profession now?”

"Not at the moment, no. But I can still appreciate a good roof."

"I doubt you can."

This dude was not a happy camper. He glared at me for having the temerity to suggest anything about his roof.

"Must have been shit at roofin’” he blurted. “This one leaks like a sieve, it does.”

“For real? I thought sod roofs were–”

“Floor's rotten through up in the attic. The missus complains about it nightly, wonderin’ why I have yet to fix what it is I do not know how to fix. For one glorious minute, thought maybe you were coming to be my salvation."

"I mean, I could take a look at it."

“Why would I want someone who's been a roofer but ain't a roofer no more? And who clearly has no wits to see a broken roof to try to fix it?”

“Better than doing nothing, right?”

“Likely just wind up with more holes, if’n one of your size went up there. Currently, them droplets of water tend to poke my eye in the night. Wakes me up, and I ain't had a good night's sleep since the rain started this summer.”

"Can I just ask you something?"

"Is it about my roof?"

“It's not about your roof.”

“You want a drink?”

"I would be happy to have an ale."

"Don't have ale."

"You don't have ale?"

"Nope, we got lager."

“All right, then I would love a lager."

He sniffed, took the wooden mug he had polished half to death while we were talking, and set it down in front of me. Then he hefted a small wooden barrel up onto the bar, something about the size of a toaster. Slowly, he poured me a pint of something that looked closer to treacle than it did a lager. I smiled my best smile.

"Whoa, that's a thick beer you got there."

"It's a lager."

"Okay, a thick lager you got there."

I took a sip, chewed a little, and kept that damn smile on my face despite the horror show happening in my mouth.

"Oh boy," I said. “Now that’s a unique mouth feel."

"Mouth feel? The fuck does that mean?"

“Pretty sure you can figure it out from the name, but it's just kind of how the whole thing feels, you know, in your mouth.”

"You got a funny way of talking."

“People say that about me.”

"Yet you don't change the way you speak."

"Well, I'm an independent thinker, for better or worse."

"I think probably worse."

“You wouldn't be alone in that.”

“Are you going to keep talking to me?”

"Well, I still haven't asked what I wanted to ask. And it’s not about your roof, by the way." He stared at me for quite a while longer than I thought appropriate.

"Fine. Ask your question."

"What is the traffic like through here?"

"Oh, gods. You asking about caravans and whatnot? Another one of them coming to see?"

"Traders?"

“Traders, or whatever you want to call it. Some nonsense of checking how many caravans come through, seeing if you're going to open up a shop or something in this shit stain of a town?”

“I mean, is it worth it?”

"Might have been. Might have been."

“But not now?”

“Not hardly. This place is going down to the dogs.”

“Looks like you got good business tonight.”

"Aye, that's because all these folks are celebrating before they leave."

"Everybody's leaving?"

He nodded. "Most everyone you see in this room will be gone in the next day or two. As soon as that caravan leaves."

"Where are they all going?"

"Where? All these fools think there's some paradise valley up yonder— Conchfall or Farthall or some shit."

"Coggeshall?"

“Coggeshall? Maybe. Doesn’t sound quite right. Think it’s Farthall.”

“Pretty sure⁠—”

“Don’t matter the name. They are all going that way. To the paradise valley Farthall. That's what they say. Day in, day out. It's all I hear. Farthall this. Farthall that. Don't want to deal with snow? Farthall. Don't want to deal with goblins? Farthall. Don’t want to deal with the tab you run up in the tavern? Farthall. Don't want to deal with nothing? Farthall. Because Farthall's some flippin' paradise. What steals my daughters and all my customers? Farthall."

“I’ve never heard of the place.”

“Count your blessings. It's a fuckin' curse, it is.”

“Coggeshall's a curse?”

“Farthall. You hard of hearing or something?”

“I am. I had a stint working rock and roll shows. Very loud music.”

"Rock and what?"

"It was loud music."

"You worked with loud music?"

"Yeah, I helped set up music. Like concerts."

"Loud concerts, like an orchestra?"

"Yep, like an orchestra. Very loud. I wasn't big on hearing protection at the time."

“Hearing protection?”

“Listen, let's just... yes, I am hard of hearing. Let's just leave it at that.”

"You are a strange man,” he said, giving me a very intense look. “Not sure I like you."

"You don't have to like me. I like you, and this phenomenal beer-jam blend you've got going on here," I said, chewing another mouthful.

"Custom blend, it is. Finest lager this side of the Emerald Sea, I feel."

"I can't help but notice there's not a lot of other people ‘drinking’ this particular beer."

"Oh, I save it for them special folk.”

“Lucky me. What makes someone so special?”

“Those who come’n speak with me, I give it them. All the rest of these louts get the bung stuff me daughters serve."

"The bung stuff."

"Aye."

"Okay. I'm just…” I paused, torn, because I wanted to figure what the fuck he meant by bung stuff, but it seemed more important to stick on trying to get him back on Coggeshall. “I’m still trying to work through the Coggeshall thing."

"Aye, you and me both, lad. But you're saying you ain't heard of it?”

“I’ve heard of a place called Coggeshall, but not that it’s a paradise valley or anything. Just that it’s a place like any other.”

“Maybe you're not quite the piece of shit I presumed when I saw you stroll into this little tavern, tarted up in all your metal."

"Tarted up? The armor? I guess. Can't say that I've heard armor described that way before. But it’s, you know, I get in a few squabbles here and there and⁠—“

“Not in my place, you don't. You want to fight, you take it outside. Although, given it's fucking leaky and everyone's leaving and I'll have no one to sell it to, might as well just fucking let you tear the place into sunders and splinters, eh?”

"Well, you could.”

“Long as you put on a good show⁠—”

“I don't think either of us really wants that. Besides, I don't go around looking for fights — they just seem to find me."

He raised up one overgrown eyebrow at me.

“You ever consider that maybe since you go around dressed like you're ready to fight,” he started, “that's why the fights find you?"

“Huh, you could be right about that. But at the same time, seems like if I don't wear this and the fights find me, I'm in trouble.”

"Maybe you should look for a better place to live. Have you thought of Fartshall, the fucking paradise valley?"

“Maybe I should.”

“Too bad it don’t exist.”

"Well, if it doesn't exist, where are these people going?"

"I don't know. If I knew, then maybe I'd go there."

"But you don't think it's Coggeshall?"

"Nay, I don't. And you know why?"

"I would love for you to tell me."

"I will! I don't think they’re goin’ to Fartshall because none of ‘em come back complaining.”

“What if it is a paradise then?”

“Ain’t no place so perfect you can’t find a whiny fuck. ‘Sides the fact that barely any ever come back through here, there’d be some poor fool talking about how the place is too perfect. Misses shoveling snow or beating on goblins or some nonsense, because no one place can be all to all.”

“All to all? But where are they going then? You have to have an idea.”

“I got what I call a shit theory.”

“Care to share?”

“All these people are going somewhere. They’re being thrown into an oubliette before being chomped apart by terrible wizards and mancers who think there’s some magic to be gained through human sacrifice. Or blood, or both.”

“So you everyone in here is about to be sacrificed?”

“Aye. You know, there's a tale of an island up in that great lake where⁠—”

“Warwaters?”

"Aye, that's the one. They say the lake is actually a level of hell. That them waters is full to brimming with monsters bigger’n the trees in the Emerald Sea. And that their island is home and host to devils and their dark, sorcerous pets. Them's are the kind that'd more than likely be happy to do terrible things.”

“Like investigate blood magic?”

“Aye, figure there be a cursed soul or two desperate to gain any hint of power any way they could, whether that be blood or death or something my good soul ain’t even nightmare’d of yet."

“And that's where all these people end up?”

“Aye.”

“Seems like a lot of people willingly heading off to their destruction.”

"Well, people are dumb, aren't they?"

“I guess. Just seems⁠—”

“For one, they ain’t knowing where they going, do they? They think they be off to that paradise valley⁠—”

“Fartshall,” I said with a sigh.

“Finally, you’re saying it right! Thing is, my daddy had a saying I always chided him for, but seeing this, maybe he was wiser than I gave him credit for,” the bartender said, staring off into the distance, as if he could see his father.

“What was that?” I asked.

“I was getting there, and now⁠—”

“Sorry.”

He frowned at me.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I didn’t know you were, um, building up. Please.”

“He used to say, ‘Not one of us is as dumb as all of us. Get enough souls together, all them souls turn to fools.’”

“Your dad was right.”

“Maybe. Also a drunk and a lecher, and I figure he wanted that to rhyme, but soul and fool.”

“Still, there’s so much more life in this town. We just came from the next town to the north.”

"The north?"

“Well, you know, along the Royal Road.”

“Oh, aye. What is that one?”

“Dunkelstedt, I think. Any case, we checked out Dunkelstedt and Hrafnby. Steenburgun and on and on⁠—”

“Bergeron?”

“Yep, all the way up to Osterstadt. Every damn town on the Royal Road is totally fucking dead.”

“Aye, and you know why?” the bartender asked.

“Are you gonna say because they don’t have your beer jam?”

He frowned, then snapped. “Of course I am going to say Fartshall, because that's fuckin’ why. All that traffic, everything that used to be going through to Osterstadt, goes to Fartshall now. Maybe them from Osterstadt ought to have thought about it prior to deciding they wanted to be on their own, shouldn't they?”

“Yeah, they're a bunch of fuckheads, you ask me.”

"Well, at least we agree on something, you big lout."

"Big lout?”

“Din’t give a name, did you?”

"Montana."

“Montana. That's an odd one.”

“Well, my parents were odd people. And I’m not originally from here.”

"I'll take that for a gold piece. You ain’t secretly from Fartshall, are you?”

“No,” I lied. “What about you? From around here?”

“Can’t say as I am. Came from the south. Needed a change, took a chance, and it paid out until recently.”

“And this is your inn?”

"Aye, name’s Tom Legrand.”

"Well, Tom, I do like your place. Even the roof, even if I the roof sucks from a functional point of view. Still looks great.”

“Not sure what good a pretty roof does.”

“Are you seeing less people go through, though?”

“Where?”

“This town.”

“In total, no. Got a measure of luck what with that spur there. Those few who are going through to them traitors up in Osterstadt seem to think the way to Fartshall is faster than taking this here Royal Road.”

“So really, no traffic is going up the Royal Road past this junction?”

"Aye. How many ways you want me to tell you that?”

“Maybe one more?” I asked.

He didn’t humor me.

“How long have you been here?" I asked.

"Six years."

"And would you say there's more traffic now than in times past?"

"Maybe. Ebb and flow, lad.”

“Ah.”

I took another bite of my beer and chewed it for a moment, doing my best to ignore the flavor. And the texture. And everything about it, really.

“You hear about the Emperor?”

“Maybe. What’s the latest?”

“Picked the princess, she lasted the night, then that brother snatched the throne after he had the poor girl killed.”

“Oof.”

“That man always were a shifty shit. Trying to get the throne from his brother. Now he's done it."

"Yeah, I don't know much about that. Try to stay out of politics.”

“Thought I’d be far enough to be out, but them lords always manage to get their fat fingers tucked into each and every pie around, don’t they?”

“That’s the truth. Hey, you seem to know a lot that’s going on⁠—”

"I pick up bits and pieces here and there, but I don’t often get out this town.”

“Do you, and this is really kind of stretching what you might recall, remember a caravan coming through, maybe in the last month and a half, that had a group of people who looked like that gent over there?"

And I pointed over to Yuri.

"The cat-looking fucker?" Tom Legrand asked, focused.

"I don't know that I'd phrase it quite like that,” I replied. “But yes."

"Well, if you had asked if there had been any like that fox girl there, I'd have remembered that. But the fucking cats, I don't know that I remember them. Been a lot of folk of a kind I ain’t seen afore. Mind you, more than a few refugees been heading up this way too, I am sad to say. Much as I might be moaning on all what’s happened here, guess I need to also be appreciating, I suppose, that we be tucked safe away from all them wars. I feel for them that lost their homes. But none of ‘em ever stop to stay here and join this town what still needs souls.”

“They all move along?”

“Yup, all thinking that Paradise Valley’ll solve all them worldly problems.”

“But you don’t remember a family of cats?”

He shook his head. Then he popped something in his mouth and began to chew.

“Thing is,” he said, “I got this feeling. That maybe… I don’t know. Not really. And I don’t want you to get some idea of surety one way or t’other. Hells, Montana, best you go chat with some of them others about town. They might remember better than this old fool what spends his nights drinking to sleep without dreaming. If’n you want to talk, start with Esmeralda. She's what runs the general store. Rare for them that go on the caravans to come in here, lest they be the drovers, the drivers, or the riders. Most of them what are passengers, or refugees, or travelers, or whatever they might be, cats if’n that’s what you seek, they don't come in here.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Likely they don't want to be surrounded by these assholes what come in here and drink away their wages. Them be families, eh? Reckon you can tell this place ain’t really for families, eh?”

I glanced around, and there was a certain drunken squalor to the aesthetic. Certainly something that became apparent once you got adjusted to the general dark, smoky vibe. The dark was hiding a lot, and I suspected the sawdust on the floor was as well. I put a gold coin on the counter. Tom raised an eyebrow.

"What's that to be for?"

"Well, I do owe you for the beer, but put the extra toward paying for the gossip, and for feeling hopeful that you'll still be here the next time I roll through. “

“Aye, you're going to be traveling this Royal Road? You run a caravan?"

"Definitely not a caravaner. My father was, though."

"You're fool enough not to take up the mantle? Can’t imagine being so close to wealth and going a different way⁠—”

“We had to sell our medallion.”

"Oh, I take it he passed."

"That he did."

"I'm sorry, lad."

For the first time in our entire conversation, I felt like maybe Tom was a little sorry. And maybe he didn't hate me for those thirty seconds.

"Yeah, I miss him," I said. "More than I thought I could."

"Aye, that's the way of it. What is it? You don't know what you've had ‘til it's gone."

“Yeah. They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.”

"What?”

“Never mind. So, is there a caravan in town at the moment?"

"Aye."

"And all of these people are hopping on board tomorrow?"

"Aye. Going to take a walk up to Fartshall.”

“Do you know how long it takes?"

"To that place that don’t exist?”

"Yeah. Or, you know, how long do they say it takes to get to the Paradise Valley?”

“Oh, maybe a week, maybe two? I don't quite know. Can’t say as I been overly keen on finding out about that.”

“And only a few people come back?”

“Only them what runs the caravans come back through.”

"So the caravaners come back."

"Aye. Some, at any rate.”

"And they say Coggeshall is amazing."

"Aye."

"That's really fucking weird. Because you don't believe them."

"No."

"Do you really not believe them, or are you just pissed? It seems weird that so many people would be saying good things, and you're still sitting there going, 'Oh, it's probably blood magic.’”

“I already told you, lad: there ain’t no place what’s going to be great for every damn fool.”

“Unless they’re being paid to say that.”

He paused, seeming to actually think for a minute. To go inward.

“I don't know, you might be right. I might be crazy. But it's just... I never known a place to be so nice. The talk you hear ‘bout that place, it’s too much. In the way where it sound more like a trap. So I worry. What with everyone going, what’ll it mean when one of my own wants to go? Father has to worry, has to be... the one who says the bad part.”

“I think that's understandable, Tom. Especially if your daughters are interested in it.”

“Aye.”

“Ever think of going along?”

“I built this stupid place with my own hands⁠—”

“I thought you said the guy who built the roof knew nothing about roofing.”

“And I said I know nothin’ bout roofin, din’t I? Besides, I already gave up everything once, gave up all I had in the south to come and start something I could pass on to my daughters. And if they don't find the paradise they're looking for in that Coggeshall place, I sure as hell mean to be here for them.”

“And if they do find a paradise?” I asked.

“Well then, I suppose it won’t matter much if’n I go there now or go there later. I can wait for my daughters to come back and tell me, show me it ain’t not trap. Then I’ll go and start up something in paradise. Maybe a brewery.

“Fartshall Brewing Company?”

He frowned, as if he was trying on the name.

“You think there's more what would want this beer of mine?” he asked.

“Your fine lager here?” I asked in reply.

“Aye.'"

I took another bite of the beer and gave him a smile. "No. It's awful."

He stared at me for a second and then burst out laughing. "Never seen someone take quite as much of that punishment lager before. I've got to say, lad, it's hilarious to watch your face."

"Punishment lager?"

He smiled. Then he winked.

I had no response.

"Pardons, but it seemed as if you were coming in here to mess with me, maybe my daughters. And then, after you were so willing to drink it, I wanted to see how far I could push you."

"Glad I could amuse you."

"That you did, lad. In a time when not much else does. I thank you for the smile."

“Well, you're welcome. All right, I guess I'm going to go have a chat with Esmeralda.”

“Are you really looking for them people?"

"That guy there, his name's Yuri. He is a very good friend of mine. And his family was supposed to meet him up the road, and they have yet to arrive. He asked me to help him find his family. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

"Ah. Picus’ blessin’ on you lad.”

“Thank you.”

“Esmeralda, in the general store, probably one of your good bets. Could also talk to Michael, the smith. Usually, caravans come in and have to get a wheel fixed or a few shoes shod. His son is the farrier. They would know at least how many caravans have been through lately. Not sure that would help. But being that there ain’t likely any rush to happen tonight, I’ll keep my mind on this, see if’n some memory shakes free.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

I caught Yuri’s eye, and then pointed to the outside and left the tavern.

46

Now that I had a better idea of what was going on, it was easy to spot the vibe in the air—equal parts hopeful and panicked. That special kind of energy that only shows up when you're about to do something life-changing, or maybe catastrophically stupid. The whole town buzzed with it.

But there was something off. Nothing specific, nothing⁠—

It was easy to see there weren’t nearly enough wagons to handle everyone supposedly going out. Unless there was about to be a major adoption of the piggy back as a means of travel.

The smithy was easiest to find, what with all the shrill bangs and bongs of steel-on-steel violence, as well as the black smoke belching out of the chimneys in a bellows-driven rhythm.

I peeked in and found someone in full blacksmithing frenzy mode. Big swings, big sparks, big mood. I waited, mostly because I like my fingers unsmashed and my face unspoiled, and interrupting someone mid-anvil session seemed like a great way to ruin both.

Eventually, they jammed the hunk of metal back into the furnace — it looked like an axe head, though it could’ve been a very aggressive paperweight — and sucked in some air like they’d just finished a sprint.

“Mind if I ask a question?” I asked.

The smith spun fast enough that I instinctively got a hand up, ready to catch a thrown projectile. A squat man with a heavy beard that looked like it could catch embers and win peered at me through a layer of soot. His keg-shaped frame seemed heavily muscled despite a thick layer of what would normally be considered blubber on most marine mammals.

“Not takin’ orders tonight,” the smith barked. “Come on the morrow if’n you need somethin.’”

“Tom told me to come talk to you,” I replied, leaning on the post holding up the smith’s roof. “Said you might know a bit about the caravans that’ve come through here recently.”

He scratched at his nose and then gestured past me at a waterskin hanging on a nail by my shoulder.

“Hand me that, would you?” he asked.

I grabbed it and tossed it to him. He drank from the skin greedily, then tossed it back to me. I hung it up.

He pulled his material out of the fire, put it back on the anvil, and returned to beating the tar out of it.

I waited.

After a host of hammering, he put the metal back into the heat, breathing heavy.

“What you lookin’ for?” he asked.

“Some léonen who would have come through here within the last two months.”

“Lots of movement them last two months,” he said, sitting on the anvil, keeping one eye on the metal in the fire and one eye on me. “Léonen?”

I nodded.

“What are léonen?”

“Look a bit like lions?”

“Oh,” the smith said, and moved the metal a little. “They do somethin’ to you or yours?”

I shook my head. “It’s a friend’s family. They never showed up.”

“Can’t say as I remember, but I been in my ears on orders from the local lord. My boy’s been taking over most of the work what them caravans require.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“You should,” the smith said, flexing his fingers before picking up the tongs to grab the hot metal. “He’s out there now, shoein’ a gelding for one of them caravan leaders.”

“Where? I didn’t notice a wagon, um, parking lot.”

“Wagon yard’ll be down the road a spell,” he said, putting the metal on the anvil and lifting his hammer.

“How long is a spell?”

“Somewhere longer’n a stroll, not quite a hike,” he said, and then slammed the hammer down to most assuredly mark our conversation as done.

“Thank you,” I yelled, though he made no sign he’d heard me.

I left him to his work and started out for a stroll.

47

Amber and Yuri stood in the street, conferring quietly. Amber saw me and waved me over.

“You get anything?” I asked.

“Weirdness,” Yuri replied. “Lots of folk headed to ‘Coggeshall.’”

“I heard that too, but the guy called it Fartshall.”

“Where you think they’re heading?”

“Well, the bartender thinks it’s all human sacrifices and blood cults.”

Amber frowned.

“They always think it’s cults,” she said.

“I mean, to be fair, it often is cults.”

“You think it is this time?”

“Still trying to figure that out. The smith told me his son is fixing horseshoes in the wagon yard. I was going to chat with the kid, see what he remembers. Bartender also suggested checking with the lady who runs the general store, Esmerelda I think.”

“I can do that,” Amber said, already heading toward a well-maintained two story building kitty-corner from the tavern.

“Guess it’s you and me to the wagon yard,” I said to Yuri, only to realize he was most of the way out of the town, speed walking to the gates.

48

Ihurried after my friend, catching up to him as he slipped out the gates. The two of us walked along the road for about five minutes before we saw the wagon yard. It was just a clearing, currently filled with a group of wagons in a rough circle.

As we got closer, a figure came out of the shadows, hand on their sword, blade still sheathed but making it clear they were ready to rumble.

“You got business with the caravan?” the figure asked.

“No, business with the farrier,” I replied.

“Far side of the yard,” the figure, a young man I think, said, and then drifted back to leaning against a tree in the darkness.

As directed, we found a young man of similar build to the smith working metal into horse shoes on the far side of the yard. The smith had a portable set up in a custom-built little metal-covered wagon, complete with stone forge that was currently aglow.

A line of horses were waiting their turn for new shoes. But the smith was more focused on chatting up a young blonde woman than he was on getting through the queue.

I hated to interrupt the flirting — almost — but I did it.

“Hello there,” I said, walking into the firelight.

The flirting stopped abruptly, and the young man scowled at me.

“What are you?” he asked.

“Your father sent me,” I replied.

“Why’d me da do that? He need something?”

“No, it was more he thought you’d be the man to answer a few questions I need answered.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I'm looking for... people like him,” I said, pointing to Yuri. “They’ve probably been here in the last month, maybe two.”

“Been a lot of caravans through here as of late. Tough to remember everyone.”

"Well, I'm not asking for everyone. I'm asking if you remember anybody that looked like him."

The farrier peered at Yuri.

“Rather unique, uh, type, your friend,” the boy said.

“Léonen,” Yuri said.

“I know.”

The farrier took a moment to think, which made me feel like this guy was more of an operator than his father. It felt like the kid was trying to figure out what he could get out of this deal.

A suspicion confirmed when he smiled and asked, “Might could use a little help remembering.”

Since I felt it coming, I had the coin ready. I held up a gold and set it on the anvil.

"This help jog your memory?"

"I seem to be... I seem to be remembering things a little clearer now. But still a little hazy."

I got out a second coin and placed it next to the first.

"Yeah, now I remember. There was a group of them. Maybe two wagons' worth? Came through here. Why you want to know?"

“Can’t tell you.”

“Maybe this will help you,” he said, and he flipped one of the coins at me.

I frowned, wondering what the hell he was doing. But I saw his smile in the light from the forge.

“It’s my family,” Yuri said.

“We’re trying to track them down,” I added, “see where they went.”

“They run from you?” the girl asked. “That why?”

“No, we were supposed to be reunited, and–” Yuri started, but I cut him off.

“Do you remember where they were going?” I asked.

“Same place as everyone else,” the farrier said. “Coggeshall.”

"That’s where we’re headed," the girl said. “Maybe you should come. Your family’s probably there already.”

Yuri was about to say something, but then stopped.

I didn’t know what to say either — this was all confusing.

“Have you been there?” I asked.

“Not yet, but we’re on the way,” the girl said.

“Is this your caravan?”

Her eyes went wide with surprise, and she laughed.

“No, do I look that old? It’s my father’s. Though he said it’s mine, and my brother’s, when we get to Coggeshall. Not sure I want to keep running a caravan, but… could be a living I guess, but just seems… I don’t know…”

“Tough,” I said.

“You a caravaner?”

“Did a bit of it. My father was a Guild guy.”

“And?”

“We had to sell the medallion.”

“Oh. That is… bad.”

“It turned out okay,” I said, weirded out that I’d had reason to mention this bit of family history twice in one day.

“What are you now?”

“Mostly a warrior? Sometimes a guard?” I answered. I wasn’t about to tell them I was the duke of Coggeshall when I was still trying to figure out what they thought Coggeshall was, so I just continued the lie a little longer. “I don’t know, I guess I’m still finding my way through the world.”

“Have you considered Coggeshall?”

“First time hearing of it.”

“Oh? I thought it was well known. We heard quite a bit about it along the Royal Road. Even made my father decide to change course from Osterstadt.”

“You were going to Osterdstatd?”

“I bet I you’re about to get all upset about us being at war with them, but we’re a Guild caravan,—” she paused. “But your father⁠—”

I nodded.

“I remember,” I replied. “Come and go as you please, he’d always say.”

“Something like that,” she said with a smile.

“Wait, weren’t you just saying that your father is going to, what, retire in Coggeshall? Was he going to retire in Osterstadt?”

“I don’t know, you’d have to ask him. He’s just heard how nice Coggeshall is, and thinks it might be time to stop living on the move. Be somewhere safe and let… I don’t know, let life happen.”

“Sounds like a nice plan.”

“It does. You think you might want to come?”

“Are you offering…?”

“Not that sort of girl,” she said.

“Not that sort of question,” I replied quickly, thinking about how those who feel the need to say they often are... “I was asking if there’s room on the caravan?”

“Should be, but you’d need to ask my father. He’s pretty ornery at the moment, mad about how long we had to stop here. He wants to get the goods to market and he’s worried there’s — you don’t care about that, but, he’s unhappy right now. Might be better to— you know, maybe you should just talk to the guides.”

“What guides?”

“The ones from Coggeshall.”

“There are guides to Coggeshall?”

She nodded. “They’ll join us soon, I think tomorrow? Maybe the next day? And then take us to Coggeshall.”

“You don’t just follow the road?” Yuri asked, finally interested in the conversation instead of just glaring at everything.

She shook her head. “Road isn’t built up to it yet. At least, that’s what I heard.”

“Where is your father?” I asked.

She pointed over to one of the larger wagons in the yard.

“That’s our wagon,” she said. “Probably in there. Or in the tavern.”

“Huh,” I said, glancing over to Yuri, “might be worth a chat with the man.”

Yuri frowned.

“You should,” the farrier said with a little more force than I thought necessary. He was sick of our cock-block, I guess.

“Then we will,” I replied. “The léonen family, you saw ‘em two months back?”

“No, more recent than that. Maybe three weeks? Or not? I apologize, but I just, there’s been so many folks through this summer. I have trouble keeping it all straight.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Sure, but, you know, go.”

“Good luck with the horses,” I said, trying to be polite.

The young man scowled at me, which I thought was mean, but then I realized it was because the young woman was following Yuri and me across the wagon yard.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Montana,” I said. “That’s Yuri. You are?”

“Rebecca.”

“Nice to meet you.”

She managed to give a mock curtsy as she walked.

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” she said. “Have you had adventures?”

“Adventures?” I asked and glanced at Yuri.

Yuri was stone-faced. He wanted nothing to do with the girl.

“Not really,” I said. “Mostly, um, guard work.”

“Oh,” she replied, starting to slow down a little. “No strange quests? Are you, um, over level ten?”

“He is,” I said, pointing to Yuri.

“But you aren’t?”

“Are you?”

“Not yet, but I think I might hit ten soon.”

“Congratulations? Or is it early for that?”

“A bit early, but… good luck with my father!”

She turned and headed away, maybe back over to the farrier, being that I wasn’t a high enough level to be interesting to her.

Yuri waited her to be out of hearing and then looked at me.

“You are over level ten by now, yes?” he asked.

“Really?” I replied. “Yeah. Way over.”

The caravan master’s wagon, if we were looking at the right one, came off as an unfortunate blend of vardo and land barge. Every bit of wood on the thing was carved in curling trim and leafed with gold. The roof was arched, shingled in overlapping copper roof tiles that had an uneven gradient of verdigris, making it seem like the tiles fell off semi-regularly. Etched lanterns hung from each corner, glass tinted and leaded like they’d been torn from a cathedral for ants. They were unlit, but somehow still seemed to whisper stories of late-night negotiations with long-forgotten evils. Heavy wooden steps led up to an actual door, not a flap or a curtain or anything lightweight, but a proper hunk of wood with iron hinges that I had to be jealous of because I didn’t have a door that worked in my house. A small brass knocker hung limp in the middle of the door, a lion’s paw ready to be smashed against the metal plate behind it. There were two levels of windows currently blocked by embroidered curtains of so many colors that it had to have moved beyond clashing into some other level of unpleasant. Along the sides, gear was lashed in tidy bundles, and chests were tucked in most everywhere possible. A stovepipe came out of the front wall at a jaunty angle, with enough dents to show it served as the low-bridge warning. It was clear this wasn’t just a place to sleep — it was a home on wheels, and frankly, I was a little disappointed they didn’t have a small picket fence and a slab of grass to put down at each stop.

At the driver’s seat hung a heavy sword in a worn leather sheath, and displayed right under that in a position of prominence was the golden medallion marking the wagon and its driver as a member of the Caravaner’s Guild.

I went up the small set of stairs and knocked politely on the door.

There was no answer. Not exactly a surprise, but I figured I should at least check.

“You want to wait?” I asked.

Yuri shook his head, already moving back toward the town.

49

Tarryn had secured a rocking chair on the porch of the tavern. He blended in surprisingly well, nestled amongst a group of ancient men and women busy judging everyone around them. I half hoped the mug he was nursing held the punishment lager, but Tarryn was probably smart enough not to fall for that foul brew.

While I was heading toward Tarryn in his Cocoon redux, I spotted Amber walking out of the general store.

Yuri and I angled our path to intersect her. Tarryn, when he saw us, hopped off the porch and met us in the middle of the street, at almost the exact center of town.

"All right," I said. "Anyone else weirded out by absolutely everything here?"

Amber nodded.

“Not sure about everything,” Tarryn replied, “but, taken as a whole, this village is beyond strange.”

“The shopkeep—” Amber started.

“Esmerelda,” Yuri said.

“Right. Esmerelda remembered Yuri’s family. Said they came through about a month ago. Bought toys.”

“Toys?” I asked. “Like actual toys?”

“Yeah, actual toys. Girl got a doll, boy got a pull wagon.”

“Quaint,” Tarryn said, and I shot him a look to keep the sarcasm to a minimum. Those were Yuri’s actual kids we were talking about.

“Apparently she sells almost no toys,” Amber said, “but keeps a few around because sometimes kids pass through. Also, she misses her grandkids who⁠—”

“She told you all that?” I asked.

“She told me a lot,” Amber said. “You want the full backstory, or should I skip to the good part?”

“I think I got enough.”

“She remembers because of the toys, says they were here for a hot minute before moving on, heading to Coggeshall.”

“Did she say anything else about Coggeshall?”

“No. Didn’t ask.”

“Been the hot topic at the tavern,” Tarryn added. “Most everyone is either going to Coggeshall, knows someone headed there, or knows someone already there. But what they say of Coggeshall matches little of what I know of Coggeshall.”

“Like it being a safe paradise valley of no worries?”

“Exactly.”

“And how getting to Coggeshall requires going that way,” I pointed up the Royal Road.

“Not necessarily,” Amber said, and pointed roughly north by northwest, “I think Coggeshall is roughly that direction. So it might very well be faster to go up that northern road than all the way to the actual junction in Bergeron.”

“I admit I have not paid much attention to the goings on in our little holding of late,” Tarryn said, “but I do not recall many new faces. Certainly not in the numbers that apparently have already arrived in the valley.”

“Any mention of goblins?” Yuri asked. “Trolls? Orcs? Anything that might explain what’s going on?”

“Nothing that I heard,” Tarryn replied. “No mention of monsters or battle or death or hardship of any kind. Everything said about fake Coggeshall is wonder and delight. How easy it all is.”

“Streets paved with gold?” I asked.

“Have yet to hear that particular detail, but it would very much fit. How do people believe that trope?”

“They want to,” Amber said. “They’ve had a hard life, and they hear tales of a place where it’s easier, safer… so, they want to believe it.”

“They are fools, then.”

“Maybe.”

“Has anyone been there and returned?” I asked.

“Seems like yes,” Tarryn replied. “But no one I spoke to, nor anyone I heard speaking. Seems like there must be, being as there’s so much buzz about the place. But it is always a friend who has been there and seen it.”

"What are you thinking here?" I asked Yuri.

He frowned and scratched at his whiskers with one large claw.

“I have but one goal,” he said, his voice low but firm, “I care only to find my family.”

“I get that — I’m asking what you think we should do next.”

“We know they have come through here, and they have made the turn to the north. I think it would be best to follow this road north.”

“So we hop on Fritz and track the road to the north?”

He nodded.

“I would…” Amber started, but then stopped.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“I wonder if it might be a better idea for us to join this group.”

“Why?”

“I just — what if we lose the road?”

“Then we drop back down and take a peek from the ground again.”

“But–”

“But you want to join the group?”

“A little, yes. Seems like a lot of people going somewhere that can’t be, um, good, and I’m worried about them.”

“You think they’re hiking into a trap?”

“I do.”

“Still,” I said, “it would be quicker to zip up to the end of the line and see what’s actually there. Find out what fake Coggeshall is before we pop back down to keep these fools from falling into whatever misfortune is actually up there.”

“The blood cult,” Tarryn said.

“I don’t think it’s actually a blood cult, do you?”

“Could be. The goblins did that.”

“Night goblins.”

“Goblins are goblins.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Amber said.

“Agreed. And I just dealt with a cult thing — feels weird that there’d be another one so soon.”

That got a bunch of confused looks.

“I mean, what are the odds there’s another blood cult in the same neighborhood as the one we just crushed?”

“You really think we got them all?” Tarryn asked. “They could have just moved a little west.”

“East,” Amber said.

“East?”

“They came from Coggeshall, which is west of us. Northwest of us.”

“Whatever fucking direction they might have come,” I said, “I don’t think the night goblins have started a second blood cult, nor do I think it’s a continuation of the old blood cult.”

“You seem very sure,” Tarryn said.

“Because I don’t think the goblins would be able to pull this off.”

“Why not?”

“They’re not that— I don’t want to say smart, because I think they’re smarter than we give them credit for, but I’ve seen nothing to make me think they have the social abilities to do this. You think they could figure out how to fake Coggeshall to such a degree that they could lure this many people to it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really have a grasp on what they’re capable of. Especially if they’re motivated.”

I held up a hand.

“I know I should do this more often,” I said, “but I don’t like to. Still, I think we need to hop back on Fritz and fly ahead. If we find something bad, then we can return to the caravan and head them off. Going with the caravan now doesn’t help us.”

I nodded at everyone as if they needed to agree with me, and then I walked away before I had to listen to dissent.

50

As we soared above Tannenwacht, it was clear no one was happy with the direction things were going. Nothing made any sense, and it no longer felt like success was going to be easy.

We followed the new northbound road. It seemed like whoever built it had looked at the Royal Road and decided that was the ideal, but then realized that such a road takes a fair amount of work. The path looked great for a mile or so before turning into dog shit in a vaguely road-like shape. One season of caravan travel had already torn the thing apart, and plenty of temporary fixes had been attempted to keep caravans passing.

A little while of flying north, and we spotted the next town. It looked like someone had dropped a toy town in the middle of a leaf pile, and then walked off.

The town sat at the foot of a hillside that, despite it being the height of summer, was in full leaf-peeping mode. People in the old world would have driven hours from actual cities to stare at these trees — even in the darkness, I could see a glorious red sprawl going up the hill, surrounded by deep green. It was gorgeous, if also a little unsettling. Almost like some world-eater god-killer stabbed the world with a thousand wooden stakes, and left the bloody evidence behind as a warning.

The squat little settlement was fenced in by a wooden palisade that was doing its best impression of intimidating fortification. It failed with all the grace of someone who claims to have learned to juggle and is trying to impress the hot girl at the party. The kind of fortification that proudly proclaimed, "We tried." I kind of respected the effort, but the end result was just sad. Even from a quick glance, I could see six points where the logs were crooked enough that I could just stroll on through.

I leaned forward as Fritz banked into a lazy turn, giving us a better view of the town below. I squinted. Something about the town seemed off… and creepy.

We landed and walked up to the gate, but it was closed. Which was unusual, since every other little town we’d visited kept the gates open when everyone was free to move about the cabin, or had a guard posted at this time of night. Another ‘what the fuck’ moment to add to our growing collection. I wondered when we’d have enough ‘what the fucks’ to upgrade to a ‘fuck right off.’

The town had three buildings of note. One had a thatched roof that slumped like it had been insulted by time, despite probably being new. Another had a chimney that was half-supported by a piece of timber. A lazy curl of smoke trickled out of the top, the only sign of life in the entire place. And the third one looked like it was somewhere between a barn and a tavern. Not only had it given up trying, it was asking for the sweet release of total destruction.

I glanced at Amber. She shrugged.

Yuri pushed past me, walked right up to the gate, and pounded.

I could hear the echo of the knock inside the town.

No response.

“Maybe no one is home,” Amber said.

Just then, the door opened and an older man in ill-fitting armor stood in front of us. He had an impressive amount of facial hair, which demonstrated an off-again, off-again relationship with brushes, razors, and hygiene as a general philosophy.

He looked at us. I mean like, really looked at us. One at a time, up and down. Notably, he didn't give Amber the twice-over. He saved that for Tarryn. Then he kind of leaned against the door, and lifted his helm up a little to let it sit jaunty-like on his head.

“Help you?" he asked.

"What is this place?" I asked.

“Town of Røthalden. Why, what do you think it is?"

"Well, I didn't know. That's why I'm asking."

"Røthalden?" Amber said.

“That’s right,” the man barked. “You miss the red trees?”

"No, they're pretty obvious."

“That's why they're there.”

"You planted them?"

"Well, no. You see how old they are?”

I thought back to the trees, but Amber beat me to the answer.

“Mature.”

“You think I look that ‘mature’?”

“I mean—” I started, but Amber pinched me.

“I imagine someone planted them there,” the man said. “It seems a little too intentional, if you ask me, but you didn't ask me."

“Might we come in?" Yuri asked.

"Welllll…” he drawled, staring at us. “Why?”

“It’s night,” I said. “We’re hungry?”

“You plannin’ on eatin’ me?” The guard asked, moving his hand slowly down to the sword-sized knife on his belt. “That one there looks mite predatory.”

I followed his gaze, expecting to see the old guard glaring at Yuri. But he was giving the stink eye to Tarryn.

“Not unless you’ve got a dynamite marinade already on you,” Tarryn said with a smile.

The old man made a point of sniffing himself.

“Got a healthy musk,” he said. “Might do for you.”

“I’m not the hungry one,” Tarryn said, “the big guy is.”

“Well shit,” the old man said. “Guess that’s one dream down the drain. Might as well come on in and let me get on with my disappointment.”

He opened the door and stepped out of the way.

We added a collective ‘fuck me’ onto the growing ‘what the fuck’ pile, but without a decent reason to hold off, we walked in.

Yuri strode into town like he was on a mission. Which, I suppose, he was.

We got about twenty yards in before we sort of drifted to a stop. It was weird as fuck in there — no sign of anyone else alive in the place. No noise except for the settling of wood in the cold night air, and an owl hooting out a warning that we should fuck right off already. Then I heard the door thunk shut and a lock turn and a board drop into place. I turned to look at the old man, but he was already walking away, head down, muttering to himself, not even acknowledging us. I stood there for a second, dumbfounded.

“Tavern?” Amber suggested.

“Which one is that?” Tarryn asked.

“The one smoking?”

Yuri, again, took lead, walking toward the one building with smoke coming out of its chimney. Getting closer, I could see that it still had some structural integrity, which was really the distinguishing characteristic of the structures in Røthalden.

I missed where the guard had gone. Looked like it was just a one-guard town.

The tavern was practically empty. There was a fire in the fireplace, and there was a bartender attempting to polish the dirt-encrusted bartop with something that might have once been a clean dishrag.

And as I got closer to the bar, and thus the bartender, I realized that the old man looked an awful lot like the guard — or, actually exactly like the guard — just without the ill-fitting armor. Which I promptly spotted in an unkempt pile in a corner behind the bar.

"Help you with something?" he asked.

"You're the innkeep as well?"

"Well, we callin’ this an inn?” he asked, looking around with a critical eye. "Really barely a tavern, and even that is generous. I’d stay it’s mostly a dump, holding on to a dream. A drump? Pointless existence kept in place by the tenacious and foolish? There’s not much call for taverns in this town. Not much call of any kind in this town. But if there is a call, it’d be me what answers, being that I have the dubious distinction of serving as both gate guard and innkeep. And if you want to go to the general store, which is only generally a store, you’ll have to let me know, for I am the shopkeep. And if you need repairs to your horse’s shoes, though I did not see any horses, I am the farrier and the smith, and am best prepared to service the foot needs of imaginary horses more than any real ones. And should you remain long enough to require, I have been known to serve as the woodcutter and charcoal burner as well as bath attendant and healer⁠—“

“There’s a bath here?” Tarryn asked.

“There is a hole that fills with some water after the rain, and I can stand next to it and attend you if you would find that appealing.”

“Not in the slightest,” I said.

The old man gave a bit of a doleful look to Tarryn, and then sighed.

“Pity,” he said. “But perhaps I need to make it most clear: I am the lone resident of this place what was once a town.”

“You're it?”

“I am the it. And it is me. Fernando Rivera, townsperson of Røthalden, yes.”

"Where's everybody else?" Amber asked.

“Quite the question with such a myriad of answers, eh?”

“I guess?”

“Safe to say Røthalden had a bad fall and a worse winter. More death ’n anything else over that time. Goblins were about, and some of the else what made up Røthalden went and died when we was attacked by goblins. Some more went out hunting, meat or minerals or both, and never came back. Moritz Stiefel got drunk and claimed he could drink the well dry. He did not, but managed to make us dig a second well after he up and died down there.”

While Fernando was talking, Amber gently moved up next to me, and whispered, “He seems to like Tarryn, so let Tarryn do more talking.”

I nodded.

“Spring came,” Fernando continued, seeming not to have noticed Amber talking to me, “and while the weather improved, everything else just seemed to get worse. Youngin’ named Melchior got his neighbor’s daughter with child, and the father of the daughter, the smith, Bergmann, went and tried to kill the youngin’ Melchior, only for Melchior to kill the daughter, Wanda, and the father before following the two to the grave. Two days passed before the Mother Bergmann went into the trees and never came back. That was ‘round the equinox, I think. I was the only one what wanted to get the maypole up, and one fool pulling ribbons around a pole is just…”

“A fun night?” I asked.

Fernando Rivera frowned at me.

“Not enough of a feast involved,” he finally said.

“Seems like this place is cursed,” Tarryn said.

”Could be. Not sure who might have cursed us, but… Anyhow, soon as summer came around, traffic started moving through on this road, all going to this new settlement up the mountain some more. Me, I take that as a sign we might have a good summer, get some coin in our pockets, bring the town back to life, but pretty much all who were left, which weren’t many, decided to leave Røthalden and go find that place what won’t be cursed.”

“What place?”

“Oh dear, what was the name of it?” he said, tugging at the end of a remarkably long mustache. “You know, I've been busy. It's been an odd summer, and I admit I have not been paying attention to much beyond just outside these walls. Mostly just sticking with what’s inside these walls. In fact, I was debating whether to open to you, since I'm not really what's known as a people person. I would much rather just be left alone. But I got a look at you and thought, hey, this man looks like he might be hungry for a particular kind of supper, something what might be a blend of both exotic and esoteric, humane and germane. Suppose it were one of them things were I think it might be time to stop dreamin’ and start living,’ lest I would be dyin’ unfulfilled. So I went and opened up for you, I did. And here I am, and here you are, and we are here together, so why don't you tell me? You hungry?”

“Um,” Tarryn started.

“Before you get to that,” Amber said quickly, “could you answer the question?”

“You asked a question?”

“Um, yes. We asked where everyone else went.”

"That's right, son of a bitch! Been some time since I had to talk to anyone but myself and them ghosts around here. Wanda, in particular, don’t seem to shut up most nights, even though I dug up her bones, burned her body, and threw the ashes into the trees. Exactly as requested. Never satisfied, that girl. Now, Fernando, think. Everyone went to... it had a name…man, I should write things down."

“You need a pencil or—” Tarryn offered.

“Well, also knowing how to read and write would be instrumental in achieving such a thing.”

“Did they go to Coggeshall?” Yuri asked, impatient.

Fernando’s face contorted as he heard the name, making it immediately clear he recognized it. “I would have to say that that does sound familiar.”

“Familiar or right on the money?” I asked.

“I don't know that I’ve got the memory of one who could say much anything is ‘right on any money.’ But with what confidence I got, I would posit, I think, it were named something somewhere in the neighborhood of, what did you say? Cogswin? Cogs, Hogs? Is it some pig farm?”

“Coggeshall.”

“Yeah, that's probably it. Though I think, if’n that’s the case, really missed an opportunity with Hoggeshall⁠—”

"And everybody just up and left?" Yuri asked.

"Well, it wasn't quite like that."

“Okay, so what was it like?”

“Thought I explained it reasonably clear. Got travelers coming by, talking it up. About how wonderful it was and all that. And so over spring and summer, everyone who wasn’t dead, missing, or otherwise, sort of just decided they'd rather live there than here. Until, you know, it was just me. I figured if I move on, one, ain't no one gonna be in this town no more, and two, I'd have to buy all the stuff I get for free now.”

“Wait, so people just left everything behind?” I asked.

“No, not everything. But whatever was too hard to move, got left here. Buildings — kind of tough to move those⁠—”

“I would imagine.”

“All that heavy stuff, like anvils, and crates of books, and glass and all that them folk what was once my neighbors didn’t want to carry on their backs got left behind. Until now, I got myself a tavern and a smithy and a general store. Also some gardens in the back and a maple farm in the trees that you see out there.”

“The red ones?”

“That's them.”

“There don’t seem to be enough homes for all the people you say lived here,” Tarryn said.

“Could be that’s what’s been burning in my stove, eh? You think I want to go out on my old lonesome to cut wood in them woods chock full of goblins and ghouls and all the nightmares mommies warn you about? No. I been takin’ down what I don’t need until I am left with what I do. And what else do I have? Someone to talk to? Nope, nope, don't have that, ‘cept for some of them what didn’t stay dead. And I don't have anyone to take over guard shifts at night, though why them ghosts can’t watch a little, being they ain’t got no need to sleep, is beyond me. But here you got me complainin,’ and once I’m whinin’ it might take me a month to stop. Is it the perfect life? No. But it's what I got. And for one like me, with low levels, shit stats, no real useful abilities, it’s a bit of a minor miracle I ain’t dead. So maybe I should just celebrate where I wound up, eh? I'm here, the bar is still mostly standing, and we are, provided you stay out of that corner, safe from the rain. Now, can I interest you in a beverage? Or a particular feasting?”

"Do you have any beer that's not skunked?"

"Well, no, but I do have... Just a minute." Fernando started looking at the bottles by the counter and eventually grabbed one with a deeply brown liquid in it. Then he found some wooden cups, and he distributed the liquor. It had an incredibly pungent odor that was not unlike a certain Malort out of Chicago that I would give all of my sapphires to return to blissful ignorance over.

"You know,” Amber said, her nose wrinkling at the olfactory onslaught, “I think I have to pass.”

“I mean, with how late it is and all,” I said, “might best if we just pay you for this drink and leave you to it."

"Your loss," he said, and downed all four shots in short order.

I put a coin on the counter.

“Well overpaid there,” he said. His words had already started to get a little slur to them.

“Think of it as a tip⁠—”

“Ain’t supposed to tip the proprietor.”

“I think you might need that, though."

“I got all I need here.”

“Do you?”

“I think, maybe. Minus, maybe, sharing a particular meal with that fine specimen of man there,“ he gestured at Tarryn.

Tarryn gave the man what might be one of the most impressive ‘you-have-got-to-be-out-of-your-goddamned-mind’ looks I have ever seen outside of the USA network.

“Maybe?” Fernando asked.

Tarryn shook his head.

“Ah well, have to try, eh?”

"Don’t worry about it,” I said, trying to move the old man along. “Do you remember the caravans that came through?"

“They don't really stop anymore. Sometimes they knock on our door, sometimes they try to come in, but I tend to keep ‘em back when I can. Don’t like most people after I got to enjoy being more on my lonesome. Were there more of you, I probably wouldn't opened that door tonight. But I figured I could handle just four people coming to say hello, if’n you turned out to be bandits or something worse.”

“You would have fought us?”

“Hells, no. I probably would have hid and hoped you got bored or had an up-close encounter with one of the various anti-vistor devices I have installed around the town.”

“Anti-visitor devices?” Tarryn asked. “You mean like traps?”

“Sounds less impressive that way. Mostly holes with pointy sticks that I use as latrines for a spell to get ‘em nice and deadly.”

“Ah, well, gross, wish I didn’t know that,” I said. “Fernando Rivera, I think it’s time we got out of your lovely town.”

“Sure’n you won’t stay for a feast?” he asked in an oh-so creepy way that made me desperate to never find out what went on at a Røtholden feast.

“Maybe we’ll come back in the spring to pick up some maple syrup,” Amber said with a smile.

“Is that when it comes out? Haven't never harvested anything from any trees. Don’t actually know much about the, um, work. Does the syrup just come out of the tree?”

"I'm pretty sure there’s an involved process,” Amber said. “Sap comes from the tree and that needs to be turned into the syrup.”

"Shit, I guess maybe I just let them trees do what they want, eh?”

“Sure,” I said, heading to the door. “Goodnight then.”

“Mind the ghost! Think she might be out soon,” he said as we left the place.

Standing on the porch, Amber giggled, letting out some nervous energy.

“You need me to unlock the gate?” I heard Fernando say, and then saw that he was standing on the porch with us, leaning against the wall.

“I think we can just slip out the hole in the palisade over there,” I said, pointing to the broken wall.

“Fair nuff,” he said, and then he cleared his throat as if he might continue speaking.

He did not.

Part of me wondered if he had some touch of wisdom to impart, but that seemed highly unlikely. Even if he did, I couldn’t see it as being germane to finding Yuri’s family.

“Thanks for the hospitality,” I said, as the other members of my little party squeezed through the rotten logs to get away from the idiot of Røtholden.

51

We flew on but found nothing.

Obviously Yuri wanted to keep going, but Amber was fighting falling sleep in her seat while Tarryn had found some means to sleep comfortably enough on Air Fritz, and was snoring away happily in his saddle.

“Let’s find a spot to rest,” I called to Fritz.

He pulled in his wings and we dropped out of the sky to a field of flowers that probably looked stunning when it was light out. And not being crushed by a roc.

We made a quick camp, Yuri scowling the whole time. I convinced him to get some rest, and in short order I was the only one awake. Even Fritz had tucked himself into a massive ball, sleeping with us in our camp. He was as big as a damn building, so more like we were sleeping next to him, but whatever. He was sleeping as well.

I sat with my back to the fire, watching the world around me.

There wasn’t much to watch. It was night, and we had a massive apex predator with us, which meant most everything that could move away from us had moved. No creature with even half a brain would want to be anywhere near Fritz when he woke up, hungry.

Even still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. Someone or something.

I stood up and took a quiet stroll, peering out into the wilds. It wasn’t like there were a lot of trees there to block my sight lines — we were in a field large enough to hold a football game, as well as at least two rival tailgates without a brawl breaking out. And it was filled with, at most, waist-high flowers.

Nothing.

I closed my eyes and paid attention to my tremor sense.

As calm as it was above ground, below ground was busy. Not with anything big, though. Moles and voles dug holes. Worms ate through loam. Bugs buzzed. All the bits and bobs of nature so small that a monstrosity like Fritz didn’t register. Hell, it didn’t seem like we even registered.

I returned to the rock I’d claimed as a seat and decided that the feeling of being watched came from the discordant silence. I just wasn't used to the world being so quiet.

Clouds rolled in from the west, covering most of the sky and keeping the moons dark. It felt within the realm of possibility that a storm might be on the way. Maybe that was having an impact as well.

I had a reason to stay awake beyond just keeping watch — I wanted to think about Mister Paul. I knew he’d visit soon, and he’d expect me to have my boon request ready. But what did I need?

Besides a handbook to the game for this world? There were so many fine points I knew were missing. All these minor elements that completely eluded me, not to mention the things I totally forgot to deal with.

Like hir∂ points.

I had some to spend, and I’d just let them accumulate.

But given that I had that quest to get a new hir∂ member, I decided that, absent an emergency of some kind, I’d hold off on the points spend until I got the new member. Maybe there’d be some bonus that’d work best for them.

I still didn’t have any ideas on the boon, though.

And that feeling was still there. Maybe even more pronounced now.

I tried not to make any outward sign that I was aware of anyone watching me. I stayed seated, fiddling with a piece of grass, chewing one end as I tried to appear content.

Still, nothing came up in my tremor sense. And I saw nothing in either of my vision types, dark or regular.

What the fuck was going on?

I thought about waking up Amber, telling her to go around and see what’s what, but I looked at my mana instead. Holding steady at a fuckton. The thousand or so prinkies I’d summoned had barely made a dent.

So I summoned another small horde of little furry helpers into the world.

Twenty-four prinkies popped into being, all looking at me with their giant eyes, waiting for orders.

“Spread out into the surrounding area and tell me if there’s anyone hiding out there,” I said. “And each of you pick a different direction. Don’t go in one big clump, dammit.”

It was a mild clusterfuck to start, with prinkies fighting over which direction they got to go, but after some hissed prinky curses and a few prinky elbows thrown, they were off.

They were not successful in finding anyone.

Or being quiet.

But their loud frolic though the woods tamped down the creepy feeling of being watched, so it was kind of a wash.

It did make me wonder if it was all in my head, though. I really didn’t need to be questioning my sanity at that moment in time.

Maybe I could ask for some sort of mental health treatment for my boon…

52

When morning finally came, we ate a cold breakfast in awkward silence, Yuri glaring at anyone who made any sort of delaying motion. Once on Fritz, he focused back on the road, following it north from the air. It didn’t take long until we saw our next stop. It was slightly confusing, because it wasn’t a town. It looked more like an estate.

Or I think that was the intent. It was a little difficult to tell, though, because it wasn’t finished. It seemed like construction had stopped mid-way through the process. Like they ran out of money. Maybe they had a gremlin problem too.

I could see stockpiles of materials, stacks of stones and lumber, crates and barrels. But it was hard to dissect the situation given that we were still so high, and I didn’t want to risk getting spotted by having Fritz to do a flyby. Better to continue our charade of being regular travelers.

I signaled to Fritz, and gestured at the ground.

He brought us down out of sight of the place. It meant a bit of a hike, but the weather was nice. To start, I hurried up a tall hill nearby that gave me a better view of the place. Closer up, even less construction had been finished than I’d thought. Had it been finished, it would have been impressive, at least from a size and number of buildings perspective. Foundations had been dug out for dozens of buildings. Some even had foundations in place. A few had a measure of construction started, but only a handful were approaching a finished state. One of those was a windmill, which spun lazily enough that I doubted it was actually connected to a millstone yet.

The grand rose of the architectural garden was the ridiculous manor rising out up like a soon-to-be monument to hubris. Grand, gleaming, pale stone walls soared skyward, likely quarried from somewhere expensive and schlepped at great expense out here into the wilderness. Marble columns leaned in front of the entrance, waiting to support a vast overhang that would permit all sorts of fancy people to step out of their carriages without being troubled by things like weather or reality.

One wing of the manor house stood mostly complete, with arched windows, wrought-iron balconies, and decorative stonework of grapes and horses. And probably whatever else this noble fuckwit thought shouted money and importance. The other wing was little more than scaffolding, with its exposed timber already starting to gray out from wind and rain. Walls that began and then stopped, like the architect died mid-thought.

A fountain was half built in the courtyard, its piping laid out, ready to be installed. Statues peeked out of crates, open to the elements on top of others sealed in place.

Gardens had been planned with precision but were probably never executed, and so perfectly laid flagstone paths curved through thigh-high weeds. Bushes had been planted with a mathematician’s touch, but now sat in neat, dead rows.

From a distance, it had a kind of beauty, and seemed to promote the illusion you could live there. You could squint and imagine the grounds filled by the kinds of balls I’d been to in Glaton, providing a luxurious soirée for all the bigwigs sitting around fighting over who would rule the peons for the following generations.

But when you stopped squinting, when you paid attention to the details of the place, it was mostly just ridiculous. A monument to greed and petulant refusal to change. Why build anything that might work well in nature or in this region of the world when you could replicate exactly what you left in the capital, even though it was destined to fail? For example, even on the somewhat finished bit of manor house, I could tell they hadn’t gotten the roof lines right — they weren’t anywhere near steep enough, which meant that snow was going to destroy that fucker.

The road cutting right through the middle of the place made it more than clear to me at least, that this was probably the home of the fuckwit who'd made the crossroads and been stealing people.

Except, then, where were all those people?

There was another set of buildings I couldn’t really see from the hilltop, so I moved over to a different spot with a better view of the northern part of the cleared land.

It looked like it was going to be a huge, posh stable. Eventually. At first, I though it was just going to have really high ceilings, which, you know, might be something horses like, but then I saw a mostly finished ramp leading up from the first story. Two floors of horses? Though at the end of the second floor, I saw what had to be the moorings set to build another ramp up to a third level. Who the fuck needs three floors of horses?

And then it dawned on me — there was really only one asshole who'd have done this.

"Northwoods," I said.

The others looked at me.

"What was that?" Amber asked.

"This has got to be Northwoods," I said. “I bet this was his estate.”

"Not much of an estate," Tarryn replied.

"Well, sure. But, I mean, he kind of stopped working on it halfway through to move in with us, didn't he?"

"I wouldn't know, your grace."

I stared at the windmill a little longer, watching the blades spin round and round. The walls surrounding the estate, the ones that were ostensibly there to keep out the riffraff and also the trolls, goblins, and whatnot, were the only finished part of the property in any real sense.

But even from the smaller hill we stood atop, I could see everything.

Which now included people. Because while we’d been staring at the stables, some people had emerged and were… doing things. They moved around, but didn't really seem to have any purpose. They didn’t seem to have any direction. It was almost like they just needed to get their steps in.

"We need to go talk to them," I said. "And we should probably... wait, aren't they going to know who I am? Are they going to know who we are?"

Amber just shook her head, shrugging.

“I don't see my family in there,” Yuri said. “Perhaps we just skip it.”

"What?" I asked. "This is probably the best place to figure out what the fuck is going on."

“The road does lead directly here,” Tarryn added.

“But he’s our ally, and your vassal,” Amber said.

“Maybe…” I said, and I waited to see if anyone would counter that.

No one did.

Instead, they just stared at me, making it clear I was going to have to make the decision.

“I know you’re feeling the time crunch on this, Yuri,” I said, “but I think we need to investigate here.”

He grumbled, but said nothing specific out loud, so I walked back down the hill and hiked around, keeping out of sight from the estate until we were back on the road. When we reached the front gate, I expected to need to hammer on the door to get someone to come out and open up.

But the door was propped open.

Kind of defeats the purpose of building a whole defensive structure if you just leave it wide open.

I glanced back at my party. They looked as confused as I felt.

But what else could we do? I stepped inside.

There were no guards on duty, and I didn’t see anyone watching the gate. No one called out to me to ask what the fuck I was doing there in what was clearly a private, protected area.

And then I saw a man.

He came around the corner of the unfinished portion, pushing a wheelbarrow full of leaves.

He didn’t see us, or, if he did, he didn’t care that we were there. He just pushed that wheelbarrow, disappearing around the near side of the house.

Off in the distance, at the base of the windmill, I could see someone sitting on a bench. Upright, in a formal, uncomfortable way.

The figure noticed us and stood up so fast that it was a little unsettling, and then they waved to us. A big wave that was… unusual.

I waved back.

“Hello!” the figure, seemingly a woman, hollered.

“Hi?” I replied, not quite as loud so as to get her to come closer.

She did.

“Are you searching for Coggeshall?” she asked as she reached the zone where yelling was no longer necessary.

“Uh,” I paused, unsure how to test what she actually knew without revealing anything.

“This is not it, sadly,” she continued. “And while your ultimate destination is still some distance yet, you are so very close. Do not despair! We have travel rations should you need, as well as guides available to help you on this last leg.”

I just stared dumbly, unable to think of even something moronic to say.

Now that she’d gotten within what I’d considered striking distance, I could see that something was wrong with her. She was painfully thin, and her skin was overly pale and waxy. It was discolored in a lot of places, almost like bruises, but not quite as pronounced. Her smile revealed a horror show, with bulging, nearly black gums so slick with blood that the few teeth that weren’t a rotten brown were stained deep crimson. Her hair was a thick nest that looked to have never seen a brush and was probably not far from becoming one solid chunk. More than one of her fingertips was black.

Most of all, as she moved closer to us, so did an unreal stench that I hated I could mostly identify: a foul blend of rot, human waste, and oncoming death.

“Are you, um, okay?” I asked.

“Me?” she replied. “I am well, yes. And you?”

“I think, um, maybe you are, um–”

“We are looking for Coggeshall,” Yuri barked out. “And we are hoping to get there quickly.”

“I can imagine,” the woman said through a putrid smile, “but you must have some patience. The next leg is difficult. Have you carts or wagons?”

“No,” Yuri said, thankfully taking things over. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to talk without horking up my guts. “We came with nothing but what we could carry. We even sold our horses because they seemed to slow us, such was our desire to get to the paradise valley we were told is your Coggeshall."

"Oh," the woman replied, “it is not mine. But I like to think it is all of ours. And I think you will still be surprised at how lovely it is. If you are all ready to go, I can see if there is a guide available to take you."

"If it's so wonderful, why do you remain here?” Amber asked.

“Someone needs to stay and provide respite for those who seek entrance to Coggeshall, don’t they?”

“Oh, that's what this is?” I asked. “A traveller's holding place?”

“Though that was not the intent of this place originally, that is what it has become.”

“What was it? It looks like it's a little unfinished.”

"It was to be the holding of a lordling, but he left it, and now Coggeshall has taken it to provide for those who travel to her."

"Awful nice of Coggeshall."

"You will find Coggeshall is almost limitless in the blessings it bestows upon those who choose to reside within it."

"So it's safe there?" Amber asked.

"Oh, very much. But there's little need for me to extol its virtues. You must surely know enough to have given up everything you had to get here.”

“We are most eager to get there,” Yuri said.

“If you will wait here,” the woman said softly, “I will do my utmost to facilitate quick travel for you."

"Thank you," Yuri said.

The woman flashed her horror show smile and scurried away. As soon as she was a decent distance, I turned to the group. I must have had a look on my face, because Tarryn threw his hands up, and Amber nodded. Yuri was impassive. Granted, he also had the face of a lion, so it wasn't always the easiest to read his emotions.

"What the fuck?" I asked.

"There's something very wrong with her," Tarryn said.

"No shit. But what?"

"I have not seen anything like that," Amber said. "Her teeth, her mouth, her everything — and yet she seems to bear no ill effects."

"No ill effects? What the fuck were you seeing? She could raise the dead with the stench coming out of her mouth alone."

“Perhaps, but if your mouth were as destroyed as hers, or your fingernails had fallen out as your fingertips died, or any of the myriad obvious issues she faces, there would be some effect on you, would there not?"

"I'm clearly not picking up what you're putting down."

“She acts as if none of this bothers her. She speaks as if her mouth is healthy, feeling no pain from her obvious afflictions. Her gums must be in agony, and yet, she seems content, unbothered, as if she were healthy.”

“Oh,” Tarryn said softly, “ew.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding, “now that you've pointed that out, I don't like it at all. What the fuck is going on?”

"I don't think any one of us has the correct answer here, your grace, but I would imagine it would be best if we kept our distance from her⁠—“

“Because you think we can catch whatever she might have?”

“I don’t know of a disease that would do this,” Amber said.

“It is not for us to investigate her illness,” Yuri barked. “That is the reason I was pushing for a quicker departure. Whatever is happening here, I do not think we will find any of the answers we want."

“I understand your desire to move quickly,” Tarryn said, “but I feel like there is something going on here that can have very bad implications if we were to just leave.”

“So you want to stay here?” I asked.

“No, but…” Tarryn didn’t have an answer.

I got what he was saying. The more I walked along this road and met the weirdos that inhabited these rugged lands, the more hesitant I was about everything.

“Part of me thinks it’d be good to let Northwoods know about what’s going on here,” I said.

“That is a matter for you to decide,” Yuri replied, “but I must continue on. I am going to this fake Coggeshall. Clearly, that is where they have taken everyone. And if my family is still alive, that must be where they are.”

"I'm not gonna leave you by yourself, dude. If you're going that way, so am I."

"I appreciate that, your grace. There is much that needs doing, and I know you are sacrificing in order to assist me."

“You don’t need to thank me, Yuri. You’re my friend, and a valued member of our home.”

“Yes, but⁠—”

Our shitty attempts at both giving and receiving gratitude were interrupted when the man with the wheelbarrow appeared. He didn’t look like he’d picked up or dropped anything off — the barrow was filled with the same collection of detritus he'd had in there from the moment we arrived. He didn’t look at us; he just followed the path with the wheelbarrow until he disappeared again.

It was just fucking weird. What was he doing with all that stuff? Why was he pushing it around? Why did he come back for a third pass? It really just looked like he was making mindless laps around the unfinished house.

Time passed, and we waited there awkwardly. The only person we saw was the occasional passing wheelbarrow man, who we got to see a lot, enough that I began to wonder about his gait. It wasn’t changing. It was almost like he was a robot.

What the place lacked in humans, it more than made up for in bugs. So many bugs. Now, I don't want to make it seem like actual Coggeshall is some insect-free paradise, but I’d never really noticed the bugs there. Not compared to the revulsion that was summer in Michigan. Or even worse, Canada. But this place made the swamps of the U.P. look like OFF testing rooms. Midges, mosquitoes, black flies, horse flies, all sorts of creepy-crawlies swarmed us, working hard to get their feast on. Enough that not only did I notice, but Amber did to the point that she started to complain. She was the ranger of our little party — kind of her job to handle the outdoors without complaint.

Tarryn seemed to be getting the worst of it, and he was muttering more and more as he slapped himself.

Then a grim grin spread over his face before a small flash of power escaped his hand. A thousand pinpricks of light sparkled around him, followed immediately by a thousand tiny curls of smoke disappearing in the mild breeze.

I looked over at him, questioning.

"Got tired of all the fucking bugs,” he said.

"What’d you just do?" I asked.

"Just a little spell I've cooked up."

“A thousand points of light?”

“Not a bad name. If I keep working on it, maybe I’ll take that.”

“You can have it.”

“I doubt it will be useful, though, given that it consumes a rather prodigious amount of mana. But when I have the spare mana and am surrounded by such a profusion of nuisances, it is rather satisfying. I hate bugs."

"There are too many here," Amber said. “More than there should be.”

“Are they the kind that are attracted to disease and corpses?” I asked.

Her hand whipped out in a blur, catching a group of insects. She peered at them.

“It’s a surprising breadth, but what I see here would be at home on carrion. My knowledge of insects and corpses are limited. But this population level is unusual, given that we are not that far from where we hail, nor from Osterstadt.”

“Do you think it's more akin to Osterstadt?” I asked. "The climate here?”

Amber thought for a second. “Perhaps. The mountains certainly have an effect on the weather. There are quite a few storms that come out of the Emerald Sea and drop rain across this region. In terms of the transmission of insects and other animals, plus different trees and wild flowers… we’re in a different biome. More mountain, less hill. If you go to the plains to the north, on the other side of the Lower Walls⁠—”

“The lower walls?”

“These mountains here.”

“Who call them that?”

“The centaurs,” Yuri chimed in.

“Ursus call them the Forges.”

“And the empire?” I asked.

“Yet to name them.”

It took nearly all of my will to not offer up a name or ask if it could be my choice to name them. Because I’d probably have gone with the Not So Bad Tetons.

“In any case, on the other side of the mountains who have yet to be named, you will find many differences in plants and animals. Given that this fake place seems to be up into the mountains from here, I imagine what we find there will be what we see in Coggeshall. It is so hard to try to speak of both of them when they are both trying to be the same thing. Except that's not what I mean to say, in that one would be what the other is or maybe⁠—”

“Let's call ours Coggeshall and the other one Foggeshall,” I interrupted her to say.

“Foggeshall?”

“Yeah, as in fake Coggeshall. That way, even if we say it around them, it'll just sound like we have a slight speech impediment.”

“Okay then, I would imagine Foggeshall is only marginally different than Coggeshall, which is markedly different than here, but not as different as the Amber Wastes to the north.”

“Because of the mountains.”

“Yes, largely due to the mountains, your grace.”

"Great. So we have all established that the insect population here is weird, but that Tarryn has a neat way of dealing with it."

“Mana permitting, your grace.”

“You want to deal with it for the rest of us?”

He sighed and closed his eyes. Then there was the similar tingle of power being used, and suddenly there was fire everywhere. Very, very briefly, like fireworks going off. Followed by the deaths of what seemed like a million wisps of smoke.

“Okay, that was horrific. But awesome.”

As the stench of burnt insect mellowed, a young man came upon us.

"You are the group looking for a guide, yes?"

He startled me — he had been remarkably quiet in his approach. Amber was the only one who didn’t look surprised, and that gave me a measure of comfort and kept me from assuming a defensive posture.

The man waited patiently in front of us, dressed and ready for travel. He looked much healthier than the woman, but that’s not exactly saying much. Things were still off about him. His color looked poor, and there were some serious hygiene issues going on. But it wasn’t in the sick or mentally ill category so much as maybe just an overly outdoorsy type who didn’t think bathing fit in with the natural life. Something reinforced by his choice of clothing, being that it was all animal hides of one type or another, all quite amateur, and all quite worn. He had a heavy hood up over his head, which struck me as odd since it was such a warm, sunny day. I would have been hot with all the clothes he had on, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Yeah," I said, "that's us. Ready and raring to go."

"Then I would say," the man said, “that it is time for us to depart. If we are quick, there is a safe camp upon the trail we might make before dark.”

“How long will it be from here?”

“To the camp?”

“To Foggeshall.”

“The time to Coggeshall depends on your capabilities traversing the terrain. I have made it in as few as four days, and as many as eight."

"Do you make this trip often?" I asked, starting toward the gate, presuming that's the direction we would go. He fell in with me, and I got another good whiff of him. I managed to hold my gag to appear as a bit of a throat tickle.

"Yes," he said with a slight nod. "It is a difficult path, thus often we are forced to undertake a measure of assistance. Hence the guide, myself, and some others partake in this. Such that we might ease getting to and from Coggeshall."

"Oh, well, that's awfully nice of you."

"It is what is best."

"Oh, that's awfully mature of you."

He frowned, a little confused, and quickened his pace just enough that he moved in front of me, making it clear he wasn't super into talking. I glanced over my shoulder and got a shrug from Amber.

53

It took some time after having left the Northwoods estate proper to get to what could really be considered the wilds. The area around Northwoods had been in the process of being settled, swaths of trees lay cut down and stacks of logs peppered newly open fields — clearly piled high before they were taken to sawmills. Great piles of branches sat half-burned, and nearly every stump remained in place. Some had started to regrow. The few fields that had been cleared and planted at some point, were going fallow. Lots of what looked like wheat just growing wild.

It was just bizarre to see how much work had been put into the entire area, only to be abandoned. That, and how much hadn’t actually been finished. I’d probably have started one job and finished it before moving on to the next. It looked liked Northwoods preferred the more shotgun approach of do everything at once.

Once we left the almost-farmlands behind and hit the native forests, the trail turned into the kind of hike that makes you question your life choices. We trudged up into the foothills beneath the mountains, and it was nothing but up and down, up and down, over and over. The world’s worst roller coaster.

The path itself looked like it had been laid out by mad goats and then worn down by drunk humans. It didn’t follow much in the way of logic or even terrain. And it was narrow. How did wagons make it through here?

I tried to ask our guide about it, but every time I closed the gap, he’d glance back, clock me coming, and pick up his pace just enough to keep me at bay. Which would’ve been fine if our mancer wasn’t already dragging ass and blowing like a pock-marked bellows.

The weather turned as we moved through the hills, and what had started as a glorious summer day under the brilliant sun was on the verge of becoming dangerous. Huge black thunderheads towered even over the impossibly tall peaks of the Not So Bad Tetons. I had a bad feeling that name was going to stick in my head which might make it stick in the world. And somehow, I began to wonder if someone had named the individual peaks, and as if the universe had been waiting with bated breath, because immediately came the quest.

You have been offered a quest:

Do the Mountains Need Names

Find out if these peaks have names. Find which ones need names. Name names. Or don’t.

Reward for success: Greater Dominion over the Mountains, XP

Penalty for failure (or refusal): Unknown, reduced dominion over the mountains.

Yes/No

I accepted the quest — how could I do anything else — though I had no idea how I was going to go about figuring it out. Then I remembered there were certainly people who had lived in the mountains for a long time, and I could just ask one of them. The Ursus likely had plenty of names for all these peaks, and reasons behind all of it. The thought actually boosted my mood, because there was a clear path forward on one thing out of the myriad that seemed to be perpetually piled upon me.

Then the rain came. A brutal shellacking of water cold enough to cause every member of our little party to withdraw inward. We broke out hoods and cloaks and did our best to protect ourselves from the onslaught. Except for our guide, who seemed largely unbothered by the deluge.

He moved with a strange ease that seemed to belie damn near everything. Nothing on the path bothered him, nor did it interest him. He just continued on. And while I could keep up with him, my compatriots were struggling. Maybe struggle was a bit unfair to Amber, but Yuri was puffing and Tarryn looked like he was about to drop into a ditch and enjoy eternal respite.

I glanced out at the storm, which still seemed to be building. Darker clouds behind us were closing in and threatening to amp the storm up even further.

“Not to suggest that you don’t know what you’re doing,” I shouted up to our guide, “but do you think it might be a good idea to wait out this storm in some shelter?”

He looked back at me, and while I expected some measure of annoyance or anger in his eyes for having called him out, there was an almost complete lack of emotion there. Instead, I saw a momentary blankness, almost as if he was reading over his character sheet or looking at a notification. Then he nodded at me.

“This way, then,” he said, and promptly turned off the trail and into the dense trees on the uphill side.

It was a short walk before we were well within the forest, and the treetop cover managed to blunt the effects of the weather a little. I thought we could just stay there, but clearly our guide had a destination in mind.

He brought us to shelter under a dense willow tree that had grown above a burbling little spring that fed a tiny brook winding down the hill. From all appearances, either there had been an immense amount of luck involved this place forming as it had through no outside intervention, or someone had had a hand in making it a little oasis for travelers. There were large rocks to sit on, and a dark circle of stone that looked to have been where a fire had burned many times. It shielded us from the worst of the rain, although with how relentless it was, it was going to be a matter of when, not if, the water broke through.

The party, for lack of a better term, all found dry rocks near the spring to sit on, and Amber quickly pulled out strips of meat to pass out to each of us, giving me an extra.

Our guide didn't sit with us, instead choosing to stand at the edge of the barrier of willow branches, staring off into space.

I bit into the meat, and then saw Amber gesturing to give the other piece, the one I’d taken as extra because I was bigger or something, to the guide.

“Right,” I said quietly, and walked over to him. “You want some of this?”

He looked at me, then at my outstretched hand and the meat in it.

He was a little confused, but finally something seemed to register, and he took it from me and began eating. It was clear he did not enjoy it, given that his face registered something in the neighborhood of disgust, but was doing it because he had to. Which I could understand. I've never been the hugest fan of the dried meat scene in Vuldranni. Once you get used to the glory of monosodium glutamate and the myriad of industrial flavors that come out of New Jersey, it's hard to go back to what you can find in nature.

Still, he chewed down the meat and swallowed it, and then I offered him some water from the spring, and he drank it. It was odd that he didn't seem to recognize any need on his own. It was more that he was only drinking because we told him to. Or in this case, offered it to him.

Amber pulled out some dried fruit and gave it to all of us. He looked very confused at that. But still, when I ate it, he did as well.

"Do you have a name?" I asked.

"Ruben," he said after a moment.

"Do you like sandwiches?" I said.

He paused, stopping to think about it. I immediately felt bad for making a joke based on an Earth thing, when this guy barely seemed to have a grasp on this world. But that didn’t seem to be where the confusion came from. Ruben mouthed a word to himself, and I could almost feel him trying to figure out what a sandwich was. And then it was like someone had told him, ‘oh hey, here's what a sandwich is.’ He gave a barely perceptible nod before telling me that he did, in fact, like sandwiches. That they were good. But Ruben offered nothing more on the topic and returned to staring at nothing I could see.

"Do you, uh, are you from around here?" I asked.

“I am from Coggeshall,” he replied in a rote manner.

"Oh, uh, have you lived there your whole life?"

"No. I was, I came from somewhere to the south, a… town, and then I came here, to Coggeshall, and we found I could best serve by being, by guiding people."

It was the most talking he’d done so far, though it definitely seemed that the more he spoke, the less he was able to. His thoughts came out stilted and jumbled, which maybe he was just not that great at talking to people.

He paused and then stepped through the barrier of leaves out into the storm.

"Pleasant fellow," I said.

"Is he?" Amber asked in reply.

"Maybe he has issues he's working through," I said.

"Oh, he has issues. He's working through them with us," Tarryn replied.

“Do you know where we are?” I asked Amber. She shook her head.

"None of the rangers come this side of the Lower Walls,” she replied. "On the one hand, we have viewed this area as being well taken care of by the Empire itself, so we focus our efforts within the valley. There hadn’t been much call to range more into the mountains around MoutnainHome, being that they are rather inhospitable. Though I would imagine, as our population grows, you might hope for us to search for other resources and opportunities available there. And if you do, we will go. Some of us have been more eager to do as such, but…"

"That seems like a good idea. It is part of the Dukedom, so we should probably pay more attention to it."

“True, but there are only so many rangers at the moment. If you increase the number of your foresters, your huntsmen, and huntswomen, I'll see what I can do, your grace.”

Tarryn made a hissing noise, and I looked at him, confused.

“Don’t say that,” he snapped at Amber, his voice barely audible.

“Don’t say what?” she asked.

“You would do well to pretend he has no title. And that we know nothing going on here.”

“Shit, right,” I whispered and held up my hands. “Let's just stop all this talk before our friend comes back. What if he hears?”

“That you are a member of the nobility?" Amber asked.

“ I don't want him to get ideas or anything.”

“As you wish. Though I feel you are overcautious. If he doesn't know who you are already, what does it matter if he thinks you are a noble from somewhere in the south?”

“Because it could very well be that the people who are doing this are rebels who want to get away from the onus of the lovely feudal system we have here,” Tarryn growled. “They might want to hurt nobles.”

“You think they could hurt him?” Yuri asked.

“No, but I don’t want them to try. Then we’ll be forced to defend ourselves before we have the answers we seek. If we kill this man now…”

He left the last bit unsaid, because his meaning was clear. We’d have lost the best trail we could possibly have to get to Foggeshall. And I knew, from just one look at Yuri’s face, that he was worried we were already out of time.

54

We didn’t talk much after that, because Ruben came back and told us we needed to keep moving if we wanted to reach the campsite that night. He seemed to think the storm had abated enough that it was no longer going to be an issue, and he urged us, with a little more forcefulness than I thought he had in him, to get back on the trail. There was a tough climb coming up, and he didn’t think we should attempt it in the dark.

And so we continued on the hard-pack trail, moving through the hills until we got to the start of the mountains, where the forest gave way to rocky cliffs. There, the path changed considerably, leaving the glorified animal trail behind in favor of an actual path that someone had taken time to work on.

There were some switchbacks, but it went up at a steeper rate than was necessarily comfortable. Part of that could have been restrictions due to the mountainside, but whoever had designed the road at least understood that there needed to be switchbacks.

None of the group made any comment. Everyone else was breathing heavily, save me and Ruben, whose job was to wander around through the mountains. Tarryn really seemed to struggle, but he soldiered on, drawing strength and stamina from somewhere.

Even as he toiled, I was glad to have him there. It felt better to have someone with access to the arcane, just in case we needed to go down that path. Seeing what Clyde could do had been eye-opening, in a way it never had been with other spell slingers.

I sighed, knowing that any exploration of magic had to be done by others — it wasn’t in the cards for me here. I wondered if I’d chosen properly, being that I seemed to have locked in on a bruiser, anti-magic sort of build in this world.

The storm seemed to go down with the sun. Around twilight, as we still pushed on, I spotted a copse of trees grouped around a bit of flatness above us and to the right.

"Is that our goal?" I asked.

"Indeed," Ruben replied. “It is a nice little spot for us to rest the night and proceed on to Coggeshall on the morrow.”

“Lovely.”

His response, while normal on the surface, felt rehearsed. It came out of his mouth easier than anything else he’d uttered, including his own damn name.

Everyone else huffed around me, and I knew they felt a sense of hope that we had reached a point where rest was likely. But the last leg was intense. Steep and narrow, with a few points where we had to actually climb the rock face, using worn handholds to get up. I wondered how the caravans could have made it through the area, especially ones with older or younger members.

I wanted to ask Reuben, but he was well ahead of us, doing that staring-off-into-space thing again. And anyway, probably better to save my questions for once we were sitting around the campfire. Maybe then he’d let his guard down a little.

We got up to the copse, which was as pleasant as Ruben had promised. A blend of trees and mountain meadow surrounded by stone walls, a little shelter on three sides with a cliff face on the last, giving us an unbelievable view of the Empire beyond. On a clear day, I probably could’ve seen all the way to the capital. Even so, it was amazing. The heavily forested slopes giving way to rolling grass-covered hills, with little dots of light here and there, suggesting that the Empire was slowly settling what was rugged wilderness just a year ago.

A small stream ran through this little area, giving us fresh water, and I saw a brown trout straight lounging in the current. I grit my teeth in the frustration that comes from seeing something you want just dangled right in front of you.

Farther back, away from the cliff’s edge, was an area for setting up tents. There was a fire pit and wood stacked under a waxed tarpaulin. Yuri was already busy getting a fire going.

Amber got a small tent set up in such a way so it wasn’t completely enclosed, but it could keep the rain off a group laying together. A simple thing, but it would provide shelter for us.

Ruben had disappeared again, but came back with an armload of waxed canvas, rope, stakes, and all the other bits and bobs to make a large tent. Quickly, efficiently, and with a hint of magic, he built us a pavilion. It was a tent large enough for us to stand up and move around in, with an awning that extended out nearly to the fire, which was currently blazing with a magical heat that kept going despite the rain.

I followed Ruben when he walked away again. He stopped at what I had taken as a downed tree, but turned out to be a series of somewhat hidden chests. It had been a tree at one point, and one that had fallen over, but then someone had carved out several hollows and disguised weatherproof covers for each. Each was roughly the size of a standard trunk, and all of them were stuffed with camping supplies.

“This is incredible,” I said.

Ruben looked over at me, and, again, I expected some measure of surprise I had followed him, or anger I had seen something secret, or even a happiness at the compliment. Instead, I got a lot of nothing.

“We have prepared this site for those who make this trek, because we know it is most difficult,” he said. “Is there anything more you need before you can rest?”

He waited for me to say something, impassive as always.

“No,” I replied, “I’m good. Just, um, pleasantly surprised that all of this is here.”

Ruben nodded as he pulled out a pot and some cooking tools. He took these back to the fire pit and soon had some sort of stew going.

I wasn’t sure what ingredients he’d put in the pot, but I knew they had to have been part of the supplies stored there, which meant things that had been dried and cured. And though the smell wasn’t bad, it wasn’t good either.

No one else was particularly enthused about dinner, either. The entire party gave the pot the side-eye.

Ruben ladled out the chunky stew that had not been cooked so much as rehydrated, into four bowls that were similar in size but seemed to have come from four separate sets. In fact, as I looked at things around us in this impromptu camp, which was markedly more luxurious than anything I’d seen when I’d been an actual part of a caravan, everything was a patchwork. Almost as if it all came from offcasts, things other travelers had left rather than carry up the mountain.

Made sense. If this was just the midway point, it was a simple spot to leave things behind. Anything that wasn’t important enough to make the cut got dumped here to be used by others who came later. I wondered if there was a suitable spot for us, the real Coggeshall, to do something similar, but then I realized we didn’t need it. We’d built a fucking tunnel through a fucking mountain so anyone could get to the real Coggeshall without having to leave their cherished belongs behind.

Ruben didn’t serve himself. Instead, he left the wooden ladle in the pot and stood up, walking away from the fire to stare back down the trail.

“I will take first watch,” he called out. “Though in my experience, it is quite safe here. There is little to fear in terms of any creature coming to face our fire. You may sleep soundly.”

He’d said it without even looking back at us. Again, it sounded practiced, a speech someone told him he should say at the start of the night.

This was all so fucking weird.

I took my bowl of ‘stew’ and poured it back into the pot. The others did the same, and we pulled the pot off the fire, setting it on a flat rock that seemed to have been placed there for that very purpose.

Then the four of us went into the big tent, where our four bedrolls had already been laid out.

“When did he do that?” I asked.

“He didn’t — I did,” Amber replied, picking a spot at the far edge, away from the tent’s door. She laid down. “I know we should talk about what’s going on, about what we are doing and what he is doing, but I must sleep. I have to… trust that you will take care of it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tarryn said, laying next to Amber. “We’re very safe here in the hands of our guide.”

He said it in a stilted way, like he was joking, but knew Ruben wouldn’t get the difference if he heard.

Yuri didn’t say anything, but he also dropped into his sleeping spot and curled up, giving in to the exhaustion.

I stood for a moment longer, then closed our tent up and found my bedroll.

55

We lay in the silence of people trying to find sleep, until the others, whether or not they intended to, actually did fall asleep. Breathing found a rhythm, snoring began, and in short order I knew I was the only one in the tent left awake.

I kept myself entertained by using tremor sense to ‘watch’ things around me. Something with four legs lurked around near the trees. Smaller, lightweight, maybe a skunk? I didn’t catch the usual scent, but, then again, our tent was currently overflowing with the intense odor of four travelers who’d had little time to do anything within the realm of hygiene for multiple days running. Amber still managed to have a pleasant fragrance about her, but the rest of us had gone from smelly to rancid and were bordering repellant.

Worms dug beneath us, and moles beneath them. A very large something, right at the edge of my awareness, lurked even deeper, moving ever so slightly, maybe just shifting in its burrow while sleeping. Or hibernating.

And then there was our guide, Ruben, who had not moved from his watch position near the edge of the cliff. It was rather impressive, since it had to be at least an hour, maybe even two, and he hadn’t so much as twitched. I couldn’t imagine doing that. Just standing stock still, staring out into the wilds. Maybe he’d fallen asleep standing up. But then, wouldn’t he fall over? Or at least taken a step when nodding off and waking up?

I couldn’t believe it.

Which meant I paid closer attention to him, expecting to catch something. A twitch or a shuffle or something. But… nothing. In one way, it was incredible that someone could be so perfectly still while standing. I did all I could to detect any sort of vibration from his position to show he was even still there. Because there were quite a few weaknesses to relying wholly on tremor sense, notably that if he could move without causing any vibrations, he could just saunter off. I wouldn’t be able to see him where I was looking because I’d be looking in the wrong spot. Because I’d been keeping my not-an-eye on the area as soon as I couldn’t keep my actual eye on it, I felt like there was no chance he did that, but the longer there was no movement where I’d visually seen him last, I started to believe he must have moved away somehow. Maybe he had the same trick that Clyde did, some non-teleportation means of teleportation.

But in searching the area around us, I couldn’t find him anywhere.

Nothing bipedal moved around. Again, that I could tell.

As gently and as quietly as possible, I sat up, got to a knee, and peeked through the tent flaps.

A figure stood right where Ruben had been, looking like it was wearing what Ruben had worn.

He was there. It had to be him.

Still.

I lay back down, more than a little confused. I wished I had someone to talk to, someone I could just chat with about all this bullshit. Maybe that was a boon I could ask for: a companion who was smarter than I was and knew… everything.

Like Nikolai. Nikolai before he lost himself, maybe.

Probably couldn’t use a boon to bring someone back from the dead. And besides, Nikolai had been my adopted father’s man, not mine. Any loyalty he had for me was because of what he’d had for Benedict Coggeshall, not Montana Coggeshall, so it probably wouldn’t be a good idea, even if it were possible.

Was there someone from this world who could help me? Who knew all the intricacies of the system and could⁠—

I felt something moving that I hadn't felt before. Something light, barely there, but new, that had just crossed into my detection range. It was difficult to tell what it was, because I couldn’t… it almost seemed to… it had several legs, that was for sure, but whether there were six or eight or more, I couldn’t quite discern. Its legs moved in concert, almost like it was trying to keep from wobbling, or like it was a wave traveling over a sheet of silk. But the rhythm wasn’t symmetrical, like a horse or a cat or something. It was unnerving, in a deep brain way.

And then a second appeared. A variant, but with a similar enough gait that it had to be of the same species. Then I sensed a third, a fourth, and a fifth, all moving toward the camp.

They streamed down from the uphill side angling down, aiming for the edge. Maybe they’d just happened on the flat section, an obviously pleasant stopping point for anyone. No reason to suspect these mystery creepy creatures (creeptures?) of being nefarious when all they were doing was walking. Even if their walking was unsettling as fuck.

I didn’t want to be caught unawares, so I got to a knee again and peered out at Ruben.

Our watcher hadn’t noticed anything. Or at least he hadn’t moved. So there was the off chance that he’d noticed the creeptures, decided they weren’t a threat, and was happily being still.

The creeptures stopped roughly ten yards from the tent, in between us and the creek.

Ten yards is not a lot of distance, so I worried they were getting in position to make an attack. Every impulse I had told me that something strange was happening, that the best thing I could do was to go out and confront our weird guide.

But I didn't. I kept thinking that if I just watched the goings-on, I'd catch some sort of clue, and that clue might point the way to Yuri's family. Or there was the thought that if I just did nothing at all, the guide would take us to the fake Coggeshall in the morning.

Provided the creeptures didn't get us first. Or him. I didn't mean to cast aspersions on the man—I couldn’t tell if there was something truly wrong with Ruben, or if I was just an intolerant asshole. Though, to be honest, those two things were not at all mutually exclusive.

I was just about to alert Ruben to the approaching creeptures when he turned and approached them. He made no glance toward the tent. As far as I could tell, he didn’t realize I was watching him.

I waited, assessing the situation. Maybe I had misread things — our guide had noticed the creatures, and he seemed to be investigating things. I paid attention as he spoke with whatever they were. Before long, they parted ways, and Ruben returned to his guard position. It was a strange moment, the only mark of note in the whole damn night.

When morning came, I was the only one up with our weird guard, so I helped him put together breakfast. I tried engaging with him, just friendly banter, but getting anything other than a one-word answer out of the man was a minor miracle. After God-knows-how-many-times-I-tried, I gave up.

I thought about summoning a prinkie, to see if that did anything to the guy. Maybe it’d bring a smile to Ruben's face, but somehow it felt wrong. Prinkies were a Coggeshall thing.

“So, what's the walk like today?” I asked.

"Steep," he replied.

And that was the end of our conversation. I just nodded, stirred the porridge, and got out some bowls. I served up a Papa Bear-sized bowl for myself, and a Papa Bear-sized bowl for Yuri, and Papa Bear-sized bowls for Tarryn and Amber. We had no milk or cream or anything to cool it off, so it was all, you know, Papa Bear temperature.

Luckily for me, I like to take my food at the temperature of the sun. After I burned the absolute fuck out of the roof of my mouth as well as my tongue and lips, I enjoyed the painful itching feeling as it all grew back right away. All those bonus feelings really elevated the culinary experience, in my view.

While savoring the relative lack of flavor in my breakfast, I wondered if I could turn that into like a competitive eating cheat code. Eat until my stomach literally tears apart, then just let it heal, and keep going. It was a disgusting thought, even for one such as myself, who has strangely frequented more stomachs than most. And for some reason, that put me off the rest of my bland, overheated lava porridge.

I busied myself once again helping Ruben as he broke down the camp, packing everything away into the hidden tree trunks (ha). He stopped suddenly, jerkily, then turned to me, almost as if he’d just remembered he left the gas on.

"If you would, any of your belongings you feel you no longer need or that might be useful to those coming after you, if you would put them here so that the other travelers find it easier to help you, help themselves to get where it is we are going, you are going, they are going."

"Still working on memorizing that one, huh?" I said.

"Yes," Ruben replied.

“Think we’ve already pared down to the essentials,” I said.

I gave him a smile, and he looked at me for a second as if confused, trying to gauge what the appropriate facial expression might be in response. But then he smiled back. And we geared up to go.

Ruben led us around the spring and through the little plateau, on a trail that didn’t really seem like a trail at all, weaving between trees and around shrubs until we came to a very clear path cut into the mountainside. It was more horizontal, and I questioned what Ruben had told me, wondering if he’d gotten his concept of the day wrong. It seemed pretty flat, bordering on gentle.

But I was sorely mistaken, because after about an hour, we were forced to resume the grand trek upward at an increasingly steep angle.

It was one of those postcard pathways, though unbelievably treacherous. A sheer drop of at least three hundred feet to our right, and a cliff wall that had nowhere to grab onto that sort of undulated fifty to seventy feet to our left.

The vista was absolutely breathtaking, with clear skies and brilliant sun. A few clouds were distant, and a non-threatening fluffy white, looking like sheep bouncing across the sky-field. It was just incredible. But there was an inherent danger of taking your eyes off the walkway to look out and try to snag a glimpse of the Ansel Adams dreamland in front of you. There just wasn’t room for a misstep, nor were there any places to catch yourself if you lost your footing. Just one little miscalculation and you're off to the races, playing smashy-face with the granite. Or maybe schist. Hell, might have been shale. Not like I knew my rocks.

And I don't want to know my rocks, so don't give me a quest to learn all the different types of rocks in the world, I thought pointedly at the game.

It didn't. My mind was blessedly blank for a while, walking, enjoying things.

By mid-morning or so, with the sun halfway up the sky, we reached another minor bump out. This was much less impressive than the first, with little more than two trees competing to grow out of the same crack that had somehow accumulated just enough dirt to support life. A squirrel chattered at us, screaming about how we’d clearly interrupted his day. He threw things at us, which kind of ruined the whole resting period.

Taryn, Amber, and Yuri were all doing somewhat poorly. Their faces were pale, lips and cheeks having a slight tint to them that could have been because of cold, but probably had something to do with the lack of air. Reuben didn't look good either, but he also wasn't breathing that heavy. There was a pallor to him that made him look unhealthy, but he’d had that since we met him.

We passed out food, again bringing dried meats and fruits to the party. Really, the lamest of all charcuterie boards possible. We had one very hard, mildly flavorful cheese that had been designed purely to travel well with no other thought to what it would be like to consume.

Likely because we all thought we were close to our destination, we didn’t really hold back, and most everyone, except Ruben, passed out what foods we had. We ate in something approaching merriment. Ruben did eat some dried meat and fruit, though again, he did it as if it were nasty and only because he absolutely must.

As if someone tapped him on his shoulder and told him it was time to go, Ruben suddenly stood up. “We must continue on,” he announced.

Then he started hiking up the trail.

Amber and Tarryn looked to me, I think to say something to Ruben, to protest that we needed longer to rest. But before I could say anything, Yuri was on his feet, following our guide.

“It’ll be okay,” I told Amber and Tarryn quietly. “We’ve got to be there soon.”

56

Ihate lying.

Sure, this was more like being overly hopeful than outright lying, but it still felt wrong. I didn't think we were any closer to our goal. We were just going up the side of a mountain, and there's something about going up the side of the mountain with no way to see the top that really just makes the whole "we're gonna be there soon" seem impossible.

The wind picked up in the later part of the morning, buffeting us so much I worried someone would blow right off of the cliff. I forced Reuben to stop so that we could tie a rope around each other. We looked like some sort of twisted fucking kindergarten thing. I even tied us to Ruben, though he protested.

We continued on, going up a slope that looked as if someone had once carved steps into the mountain, but had been worn down by the ravages of time. I had to wonder how long it would take for stairs to get ground down to a ramp. I suppose it would depend on the stone. Harder stone obviously taking longer.

But what did that — then I felt something in the back of my mind, like the world reaching to me. Hey, you really want to go down this line of questioning? You really want to see if we can't figure out a quest to give you based on this? And no, I did not. So I stopped that line of thought and focused on the landscape around me.

A quick glance out into the sky, and there was every sign the weather was about to fuck us. The wind blew hard from the west to the east, and clouds stacked into dark towers on the western horizon.

In a few hours, maybe longer, and the clear blue sky above us would be gone. But for the moment, I felt like I could maybe even see the glittering waves of WarWaters off to the east. If I could get up to the peak of the mountain, I’d easily see that big dumb lake. Maybe even the stupid island that probably still had demons and devils cavorting about.

I daydreamed again about fishing in WarWaters. It probably wouldn’t be great, right? Not with so many predators around, and not just the clan of lutra who, no longer in the thralls of the agachnern, would likely have returned to their fishing ways. And then there was that big huge thing in the lake, the gigantic tentacle monster that had risen up out of the water in the middle of the night and just sort of stared at us. Probably his way of telling me that these were his fishing holes. Didn’t want to piss that thing off. And then, there was that island in the middle with the devils and or demons. Might be that the door I’d shut had stayed that way, but this world was weird enough that I didn’t really trust it. Seemed more likely that once a path had been cut between dimensions, the fabric of realities there was always weaker, and⁠—

My reverie broke when Amber pointed at something to the left.

I looked over to see a head looking back at me. A small reptile watched me closely from its perch on an outcropping of stone. It was an oddly shaped little fucker, with a big potato head on a long, bendy straw of a neck, down to a body that might’ve been smaller than the head. It had four short legs, two wide wings flared to catch the sun, and a tail long enough to balance out the huge fucking head.

It belched out a small flahhawahurp of bright flame that turned intensely black, charring the ground in front of it. Then it hopped up, revealing a similar char where it’d just been, and settled down on the newly heated surface.

“Mock drake,” Amber called back.

“Wait, it’s a drake?” I asked.

“It’s a pseudo dragon. Normally it hides its wings to look like a drake.”

“Whoa, a dragon?”

“Pseudo dragon.”

“So something that’s not quite a dragon, pretending to be something else that’s not quite a dragon?”

“You could say that.”

“I did say that. What do you say?”

“That it’s a pseudo dragon known as a mock drake.”

I just stared at the back of her head, wishing she’d turn around and see my look of utter disgust at that.

What a weird world.

We finally made it to a point where the terrain leveled off, and were just walking on a trail, even keel. Ahead of us, someone had carved an arch in the mountain's side. Seemed like we would pass under that arch and into the mountain itself.

I was at the back of the pack now, thinking that if the wind did come along and rip someone off the mountain, I was the one most able to hold everybody in place. So even though I was insanely curious, I was going to be the last person through that arch.

Ruben got to it and crossed under without even the slightest pause. Amber, Yuri, Tarryn, and I all followed.

We entered a seriously long tunnel. Again, it looked as if someone had taken time and care to carve it out, but that time and detail had been lost. Now you could barely tell much of anything ornamental had been there.

There were still a few spots where you could see tool marks and tiny bits of the reliefs that had been carved into the walls. Not enough to tell what was there, but enough to see that at one point, hands and tools had worked together to make something beautiful.

It wasn’t dark, not like it should have been. The complex had some source of light that I couldn’t see, unlike the glowstones that dominated our own underground arena. Sometimes it felt like nearly half of MountainHome was made up of glowstones. But this place seemed to have cunningly crafted cracks and cuts through the rock itself to bring in light from the outside. Unlike the natural cracks and crevices in the floor that I worried someone might trip on.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“A tunnel,” came Ruben’s reply, his words echoing softly.

“Who made it?”

“What?”

“Who made this tunnel?”

“I don’t know.”

“But it leads to Coggeshall?”

“Of course.”

He seemed to walk a little faster, pushing us deeper into the mountain. The rope between him and Amber was nearly taut.

I worried someone might trip, but just as I was about to yell at Ruben to slow the fuck down, he stopped.

Amber ran into him, pushing the man to take a few steps and reach out to the wall to balance himself.

The rest of the group managed to stop in time, so we avoided a big pile up.

I frowned. Something was wrong. The air pressure seemed to be… changing. Not a huge amount, but enough that I noticed.

Ruben scanned the tunnel from left to right, still with his hand on the wall. He had his other hand on the back of his head, rubbing it, the sort of motion you make after you’ve had a good head injury. But I hadn’t noticed anything touch his head.

“You okay?” I asked.

He spun around and stared at us.

His eyes were wide. He was confused.

“Who–” he started, but promptly got yanked into the crevasse at his feet.

57

Of course, phrasing it that way makes it sound like it was a clean grab. That he just disappeared down the crevasse without a trace.

But the cracks weren’t technically big enough to swallow up a human the size of Ruben. Really, they weren’t big enough to swallow up a dog, except maybe a newborn teacup poodle. Even then, there’d be a measure of squish involved.

So when Ruben got yanked, there was a momentary pause before the skin that held his internals together gave up. A grotesque, inverse Double Dare sliming followed, one that would have given Marc Summers the foulest possible nightmares.

Amber got covered in gore.

I mean, most everyone in the hallway got showered with foulness (a foulwer?), but for once, I was the least coated. I only got a bit of Ruben on one of my shoulders. It was a particularly gross bit of Ruben though, being that what came out of the man and landed on my shoulder didn’t quite match the rest of what had come out of him and painted the rest of the tunnel as well as my traveling companions. That stuff was the usual internals of a human — and yes, I hate that I can say that with any confidence.

What was currently on me did not seem like it should have been inside a human. It was green and ichoriffic. But honestly, I didn’t know if the dude was actually human, nor did I know what he’d eaten recently, besides a bunch of dried meat. Could be he’d had a gut of worms. Maybe it was the result of a particularly purulent abscess, a thought that disgusted me so much I barely heard Amber screaming.

“The rope,” I yelled, snapping back into action. I moved toward her with my dagger already out, ready to cut her free.

But Tarryn and his magic were faster, blasting out a spark of fire that ignited the rope. Suddenly Amber fell backward.

A fortuitous event, since a hot pink tentacle, or tendril or something closed around the space she’d previously occupied.

“Get back,” Yuri called, already moving, “we have to get out of the tunnel!”

But I kept moving forward, helping Amber to her feet and letting everyone else slip past me before I started running back toward daylight.

The pink thing wasn’t giving up so easily — I tremor sensed it reaching for me.

I swung my dagger in a tight arc. My ability to swing really impeded by the tight quarters, but I managed to cut into part of the tentacle. there wasn’t really structure to it — it was more like a gelatinous ooze-y sort of thing currently assuming a tentacular shape, and though my blade cut through a portion of the pink stuff, the dagger was only halfway through before the pink stuff re-formed around the blade, absorbing it.

Then there was a yank, and the pink stuff disappeared down a crack in the floor, taking my dagger with it.

“Fucking pink shit stole my knife!” I shouted.

“Forget the blade,” Yuri bellowed, “and watch your feet!”

I glanced back and saw that the tunnel had turned into some fiendish blend of hentai and garden eel colony, where questing pink tentacles grew out of every crack and hole, wiggling and wobbling around like horror movie party streamers blown by Kenny G showing off his circular breathing. They were all slightly different in shape and size, moving in the air, trying to find or grab whatever was in the tunnel.

My only saving grace was their speed, which was currently set to slow as fuck. And it seemed like they were blind, because they didn’t seem to able to guess where we were going or even where we were currently. They just reacted to where they’d felt movement.

We sprinted through the tunnel, at least as fast as we could along the treacherous path, the pink things popping up behind us in a foul version of the wave.

And then I tripped.

Which shouldn’t have been possible because I had Art of Movement. But apparently that didn’t cover staying upright when you’ve been grabbed by a pink jelly tentacle. My foot was liberally covered in the pink stuff, which was pulling me toward a crack.

As soon as I noticed that happening, I saw the other pink tendrils disappearing, as if the creature responsible for this horror show was a singular entity and wanted to put all its attention on its sure victim.

I pulled out another dagger and cut the rope connecting me to Tarryn. Then I kicked off my boot and scurried back up to standing as the ‘yank’ happened and my boot was extruded through a stone hole to become the hells’ best inedible churro.

I didn’t watch it any longer, choosing to run for it.

The stone floor was cold on my foot, but I told myself it was better for traction and that I was definitely running quicker without the boot.

Not quickly enough though.

The pink stuff wrapped around my foot.

It felt moist and warm and deeply uncomfortable, and immediately started to numb me. And it pulled. Hard.

I pulled right back, getting my hands on the walls, fingers onto grips, ready for a fight.

It was incredibly strong.

Then again, so am I.

I wasn’t budging.

Much.

But the pink fucker wasn’t giving up, and I could feel the structural elements of my body straining against their physical limits. I wasn’t sure how much longer my hip socket could hold on.

Just then, fire roared around me, scorching me and the tunnel and, most importantly, the pink stuff.

The pink disappeared under a layer of black char, crumbling to ash almost instantly.

Without anything to strain against, I fell, but multiple hands caught me immediately, dragging me from the tunnel.

I passed Tarryn walking backward, his eyes focused on the inferno he’d cast, and I could feel the power welling inside as he prepped another blast.

Minutes later, he came out of the tunnel, barely upright, eyes closed against the brightness of the sun.

“It’s not dead,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I even hurt it much. But I kept it from, um, doing…”

He stopped talking and pitched forward.

58

Igrabbed him to keep him from falling over and then leaned him against the mountain wall.

He slid down until he was sitting.

Yuri and Amber sat down next to him.

I remained standing, worried about what might happen next.

Tarryn breathed hard, gulping at the air.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Hope you didn’t get too scorched,” he replied.

“Just a little warm.”

My clothes were wrecked, and I’d lost some hair. Which sucked since it’s not like I had much to lose. But in the long run, probably better than having my leg ripped off. Or having my entire body yanked down into the bowels of the mountain through the hole the size of a stalk of rhubarb.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Out of mana…” he replied, eyes closed, but face turned up to the sun. “Can’t catch breath.”

“Yeah, not really enough air all the way up here.”

“I dislike it,” Yuri added, also breathing hard.

“Any idea what the thing was?” I asked.

“No.”

“Ancient….caeculord,” Tarryn murmured.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Caeculord?” Yuri asked at the same time.

“Yes,” Tarryn replied with a nod, still not opening his eyes. “Old one.”

“It’s terrifying,” Amber said.

“Have you heard of them?” I asked.

She shook her head, as did Yuri.

“Better question,” I started, “do we need to kill it?”

“I think it might be equally effective to put a sign on the tunnel telling anyone interested they shouldn’t be,” Amber said.

“Unless we must get through the tunnel to arrive at the Foggeshall,” Yuri replied.

“I can’t imagine that’s it,” I said.

“Then what do you think this is?”

“Not sure I can do that, either. But if I had to come up with something, I would imagine that last night, somehow, we failed some test. The Foggeshallians found us wanting in some capacity and, I guess, denied our entry. This bullshit pink motherfucker is the way they get rid of the likes of us.”

“Seems rather convoluted," Yuri said. “Why have this means of killing us? Why not–”

"The whole thing is fucking convoluted," I interrupted, maybe a bit more gruff than necessary, but I was frustrated. “I bet they do this because there’s some… they think this is foolproof, but clearly they don’t realize how much a fool I am.”

“Only you could swing that into a compliment,” Amber said, a soft smile on her face.

I hoped that what beard I had left hid my blush.

“So you think this is just a killing chamber?” Yuri asked.

“I do.”

“And so what then? We go back to the campsite and start over from there?”

“Maybe. None of us did a close inspection of the plateau, did we? There’s probably a path leading to Foggeshall somewhere there and we just never saw it because we didn’t even think to look.”

“Could be.”

“Unless,” Tarryn said weakly.

“Unless what?”

“Found… wanting… at… estate…”

“Oh, that the fork point is down at the estate?”

“Why bother with the campsite, then?” Amber asked. “That is a big expense in terms of resources.”

“Is it?” I asked. “What if they take all our gear that the pink thing⁠—”

“Caeculord,” Tarryn said.

“Sure, that thing. They take all the stuff the caeculord doesn’t eat or doesn’t keep or whatever, and use that to stock the camp. If they’re bringing a lot of travelers through this, they’ll have plenty of gear, and that would be a place to store it without rising suspicion.”

“How would they get anything back from the caeculord?” Amber asked.

“Maybe there’s some sort of output chute or⁠—”

“What does it matter?” Yuri barked. “This whole thing is ridiculous. I cannot for the life of me understand what’s happening here, nor why anyone would do this. All this trouble? For what?”

“Build their economy?” I offered.

“Imagine what it took to set this up,” Amber said. “They would have been able to build a perfectly robust economy on its own were they to have invested all this time and energy into their own thing, instead of pretending to be us. There must be a reason they went through all this trouble.”

“I mean, if Northwoods is behind it, maybe this is his plan to steal the dukedom or something,” I said.

“I don’t think that can be true,” Amber offered.

“It might be,” Yuri replied softly, “but I doubt that is the case. I know you have concerns about the man, but I doubt he would go to this extent, this level of treason, especially⁠—”

“How would he have had the time?” Amber asked.

I frowned, thinking how if someone really wanted something, they’d always find the time. Or at least that’s what I’d always believed, which held true for me, though I never really wanted anything that required a whole lot of time to get. Until here, where I could never get what I really wanted anyway, so I just did what everyone told me to instead. Which, you know, didn’t require much time.

So maybe Amber had a point. Northwoods wasn’t dumb, and it didn’t really make sense for him to go through all this trouble to shift trade from Coggeshall to Northwoods, or some fake Coggeshall, especially when he was a part of Coggeshall now. It was just hard to shake the sense that he was the bad guy in all of this.

“You deep in thought about something there?” Amber asked.

“Huh?” I replied.

“We’ve been waiting to see if you want us to call Fritz.”

“Oh, yeah, that’d be a good idea. Although,” I paused and surveyed the area. We were on a path about three feet wide on an otherwise sheer cliff. “Where would he land?”

“Right.”

“Let’s get back to the campsite and call Fritz there. While we wait, we can look around for an obvious alternate path from there and decide where we’re going, either up to Foggeshall or back down to Northwoods, and see if there’s something there we missed.”

I got nods from Amber and Yuri, but a piteous groan from Tarryn. I helped him to his feet.

“You need me to carry you?” I asked.

“You think you can?” he replied.

“I mean, I think it’s a matter of whether you can take it.”

Then I hoisted him over my shoulder into the standard firefighter carry and began the long trek down.

59

Ihalf-expected to encounter another group at the campsite. Frankly, part of me thought it would be best if that did, in fact happen, because then we might have a second chance at following a guide. Or, you know, saving any fools going to Foggeshall.

Sadly, not the case.

The camp site was completely devoid of any human or humanoid presence. We chased away a few rodents when we came through, but otherwise, nothing.

Tarryn had taken over walking roughly a quarter of the way down the path, and while he didn’t look at all back to normal, he was improving, and had indicated that if we needed a spell, he’d be able to throw down something small.

Yuri stared at the spring, looking at the water, as if there might be something hidden there for him.

I didn’t think there was.

Amber, meanwhile, moved through the whole area as if she’d lost an earring.

I stood at the edge and stared out into the world, perhaps thinking I might find something there.

Tarryn came and stood next to me.

“So we should call Fritz?” Tarryn said.

"I can call him," Amber said, lining up to do her weird whistle thing.

“Let’s just take a second—” I started.

“We are wasting time,” Yuri protested. “Call the bird, let us fly up the mountain.”

“I still think we need to scour this area for another path out. There has to be another way–”

“Unless we had to go through the tunnel,” Tarryn said.

“I thought we already went through that.”

“I wasn’t really all there. I remember that we started talking about that, but, I mean⁠—”

“You think that pink tentacle thing made all this happen? It’s the fucking mastermind of this clusterfuck?”

“No, definitely not. I doubt there is much intelligence to that creature, but there must be something on the other side of that tunnel.”

“Unless it is not a tunnel,” Yuri said. “Just a kill chamber.”

“I saw no means that anyone could get through that tunnel safely,” I said. “The deeper we went in, the more likely we were to die. I know you think there might be a diversion point at Northwoods, but it doesn’t make sense.”

“I was about to ask about that,” Tarryn said, “but I suppose that also was covered while I was, um, trying to get enough oxygen. Sorry.”

“I mean, I wasn’t sure about anything,” I said, “so a second conversation was valuable.”

“There’s something that way,” Amber said, pointing at the mountainside opposite where the trail to the kill chamber lie. “They’ve done a pretty good job at hiding the trail amongst the rocks and boulders, but I’m pretty sure,” she walked off, continuing to talk, “that if we go this way, yep, slip between these boulders here–”

She stopped talking.

I turned and sprinted to follow where she’d gone, worried that something had just happened to her. That she had been ambushed by.

Instead, she popped out, hands spread, “Ta-da, trail! Yah–”

Right in time to intercept me charging at her.

I had to dive to the side, sliding in the gravel to keep from running over her.

Eyes wide, she stared at me.

“Sorry,” I said from the ground, “you stopped talking, and–”

“I’m fine,” she said, “just, um, trying to show, and–”

“I’m on edge.”

“You are on an edge, your grace,” Yuri said, pointing to how close I’d come to going over into a waiting ravine.

I got to my feet and brushed some of the dust off my pants.

“You should also put boots on,” Amber said.

I hadn’t done that yet.

“Right,” I said, sitting down and digging in my magic bag for boots. “Then we’ll continue on. Except…” I paused with one right boot that looked mostly my size in my hand. “We were ahead of that group that’s heading here from… what’s the name of the town?”

“Tannenwacht” Amber offered. “You want someone to go help them out? Stop them from coming up here?”

As soon as I had the mismatched boots on my cold feet, I took them off again. I’d forgotten socks. So I searched for those, finding ones that were roughly the same size and likely the same material, and pulled them on before I put the boots back on. I made sure to look like I was really concentrating on the task so I could have a moment to myself to think.

On the one hand, the main goal of this whole thing was to find Yuri’s family. I had to remember that they were members of Coggeshall already, and that any responsibility I had to them had to come before random people who were looking to travel to the duchy. And yet, there were so many people who were clearly about to face some serious trouble if we didn’t stop them. What if they were all taken to feed the caeculord? I couldn’t point to anything we had done that would warrant us going that way, so who’s to say that the upcoming caravan wouldn’t suffer the same fate? Although, we’d avoided that fate, so what’s to say they wouldn’t avoid it as well? Maybe that wasn’t a good line of thinking to take, because we kind of had some extra powers normal people lacked and⁠—

“You have thoughts, your grace?” Yuri asked. I knew he was looking for me to say something about his family and how I wasn’t going to abandon them.

“I’m not giving up on your family,” I said. “I know we need to go after them first. But–”

“But there are other families in danger,” he finished.

“Correct, and I’m not sure how to balance what we should do. Or, I mean, what I should do. This is, ultimately, on me.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Amber gave it a squeeze.

“It is,” she said. “And I’m sure you think too much of those who say you are doing a poor job, or that you always do the wrong thing. But know that many of us follow you because of your choices. We know you’re doing the best you can and even though you aren’t always getting things right, you’re getting–”

Yuri shook his head.

“What?” Amber asked.

“Pep talk kind of went off the rails there,” I said.

“I was being nice.”

“It started out that way,” Tarryn replied, then walked through the boulders to look at the trail beyond.

Yuri followed him.

I smiled at her, but she scowled at me.

“It was a compliment.”

“I know,” I said. “Thank you.”

She grumbled.

We couldn’t really sit around and do nothing while I tried to think through every variable and come up with the ultimate solution that would most likely fail. I had to make a decision.

“I hate to split the party,” I said, “but I think that’s the play. Yuri and I will continue up the mountain on the trail Amber found. Amber and Tarryn, you return to Coggeshall–”

“Do what now?” Amber asked.

“Let me finish. Return to Coggeshall and tell Northwoods what we found in his old estate. Make sure he doesn’t think we’re blaming him or accusing him of anything–”

“Even though you think he might be behind it?” Tarryn asked.

“No, I don’t think he’s behind it. He wouldn’t have done something so weird with such a slim chance of working and that doesn’t have an obvious payout in clean gold. But I think it’s still his land and he needs to know what’s going on. Then, grab Wian and however many soldiers Fritz can carry and get them to the estate. Maybe also bring a healer for that walking dead chick. Wait there, and anyone who’s trying to get to Coggeshall, re-route them.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to go to Tannenwacht and do the rerouting there?”

“Eventually, yes. I think we need to be careful in cleaning up the mess now. The ‘They’ behind all this are not going to be enthused when we show up to ruin their panther party, so I think it’s better to go somewhere we have a better chance at controlling. Where we outnumber the others. The Northwoods estate, for all its unfinishedness and fucking weird as ballsness, has walls that can be held. Maybe not forever, but it’s a better spot for us than trying to go in and take over Tannenwacht. And Northwoods should be motivated to take care of the mess where his glorious mansion should be standing. Might be that he’s going to do all that himself, at which point, you can get over to Tannenwacht or Røthalden to do whatever you think is worth doing at that point.”

“You want us to hike there?” Tarryn asked. “You take Fritz?”

“Easier to follow the trail from the ground,” Yuri called out as he reappeared from his perusal of the trail. “I have only looked at a short section, but already I see that someone has taken pains to hide the trail specifically from the air. I fear our opponents might know of Fritz, and have acted with that knowledge in mind.”

Amber looked to me, asking if she should do the whistle thing.

I nodded.

She blew it.

I refrained from making any blow-related jokes.

“You should get moving,” Amber said to me, then quickly added, “your grace.”

I gave her a smile, and slipped between the boulders.

Which was not easy. I nearly got stuck, and had to push the boulder a little to get through. But once I was, I saw the path. Which was barely worth the name.

60

But that only lasted a short while. Before long the path widened enough that maybe three people could walk abreast, giving it a chill, hike-for-the-gram vibe.

Yuri powered himself up the path. He was determined and in a dark mood. I tried to walk next to him, but he seemed to push himself to go fast enough to be on his own. So I let him lead.

We moved markedly faster without Tarryn, though I imagined Amber could have kept up.

Yuri’s assessment seemed right: someone had put effort into hiding the path from above. We moved behind boulders and under rock shelves, and anywhere they could, someone transplanted the hardy little alpine trees, which, while mostly younger and smaller, did a good job at not only providing shade, but probably also hid the path from sky bound lookie-loos. Not that Air Fritz had regular routes across this area of the mountains, but I guess if your opponents have aerial reconnaissance available, you hide everything just in case.

Up and up we went.

I grew tired of the hiking. I was getting impatient. I couldn’t imagine how Yuri felt.

I tried to engage him in conversation, but he just looked at me like I was crazy. Which could have been because he was breathing hard, as we were back to an altitude where oxygen was a rarity, or because he was so focused on getting to his family. Probably for the best, since we needed to be on guard. We were getting close enough to Foggeshall that there had to be some sort of watch or outrider or something.

We hit the tree line without any sort of break or rest, though Yuri had slowed down somewhat. As we trudged through empty fields of stone without much life beyond the occasional lichen patch and a lone curious marmot, I started to think that Ruben’s estimate of a four day long trip was just one more lie. We were getting to the point on the mountain where people wouldn’t be able to survive for long.

The sun dragged itself down toward the horizon, painting everything in that gloomy, end-of-day light where shadows get long and optimism short. Finally, just as dusk settled in like a wet blanket, I spotted a change in the path, maybe an ending, but at least a pause in our uphill slog.

Up ahead, beyond the snowline, a ridge cut across the mountains. The peaks still towered above it on either side, sharp and jagged like the winning contestant in Britain’s Worst Teeth, but the ridge itself dipped low enough to give me hope that we were at a pass through this mess. Which meant we had to be close. To something.

Yuri paused in the middle of the trail, bending over and putting his hands on his legs, taking a break to just breathe for minute. Yuri needed a break, like a legitimate sit down and eat and drink and maybe do some sleeping, but I knew better than to suggest it. He’d just grunt and sneer and look at me like I was the asshole. And maybe I should have pressed the issue, but I wasn’t in the mood for another round of trying to rationalize saving family versus destroying self. So I stood there quietly, staring down at a light blue lake a thousand feet below us until Yuri stood up and we resumed our mental un-health walk.

The trail just plain sucked here. It was too steep, filled with loose rocks, and had been washed out at random intervals, so required some risky jumps.

We hit the ridgeline with the sun still lingering around the horizon. Hard to tell the time when you’re so high up the sun just sort of hovers there, like it’s teasing you with the promise of evening but refuses to commit.

When we finally crested the top, we found ourselves looking out over a wide, flat plateau. It was covered in snow, draped across a field of massive boulders like someone had thrown a white sheet over a long forgotten game of marbles.

I immediately pulled a blade out, in case any of the things turned out to be abominaballs.

Yuri was gulping for air, but still managed to get a warhammer off his back and into his hands, ready to fight if necessary.

“Think… these… are… too… small…,” he said between breaths. “Too… high…”

“You need a minute?” I asked.

He nodded and then did that thing where you’re sitting and collapsing at the same time, down on a nearby rock.

He didn’t even bother to brush the snow off.

I found a nicer rock that looked large enough to be comfortable, and I got that thing nice and clean. With everything else going on, I didn’t need a wet butt to round out the night.

“How… are… you… fine…?” He eked out.

I paused, then shrugged.

“Don’t know,” I replied. “I mean, I can tell that the air is thinner here, but I’m not like — I mean, I don’t think that I need as much air as you, maybe? I’m not sure.”

He shook his head and continued to gulp at the air.

After a moment, he seemed to have caught his breath enough that he could do something beyond think about breathing. I noticed he was studying me.

“What?” I asked.

“You are a being of such power that your general ignorance is frightening.”

“Yeah,” I said, choosing to pretend that it was an observation and not an insult, “oddly, I feel the same. Just, you know, what am I supposed to do about it?”

“Study yourself.”

“I’ll see if I can slot that in between all the other bullshit I have to do.”

“You are a busy man.”

“That’s putting it lightly. Should we keep moving, or⁠—”

“I fear we are in a difficult situation here. On the one hand, it would not do well for us to remain here overnight. The sun going down will make things untenable for me, and perhaps marginally unpleasant for you.”

“And on the other?”

“I would not like to be moving around such treacherous unknown territory in the dark.”

“Don’t you have nightvision?”

“It is not an adequate replacement for what I can see in good lighting. Especially given what dangers might exist here.”

“Ahh.”

“If you feel we need to continue on…”

I pushed myself up and started walking across the rock-strewn field, trying to figure out what fresh hell waited at the other end. It felt like we were standing in a saddle—flat here in the middle, with the mountains rising up on either side.

It wasn’t all that wide. Maybe a hundred yards before the slope turned steep enough to turn hiking to climbing. The trail ran down the center, half-lost under the snow but still visible if you knew what to look for—just enough trampling to stand out against the untouched drifts.

Off in the distance, maybe eight hundred yards away, I could see where it ended. There was a vague edge there, a drop-off that gave way to more mountains beyond. Those peaks were faint and hazy, like watercolor smudges against the sky, which meant there had to be a valley in between. And judging by how dim those far peaks were, it wasn’t just a crack in the earth. It was a real valley. A wide one.

And despite knowing better, I really hoped it was the lost home of the kitsune girls, filled with kittens and hot springs and snow cones.

Snow exploded around me, spraying up from the ground, blinding me to the world.

Ice crystals hit my face, stinging my skin.

I heard Yuri shout something, but couldn’t figure out where his voice was coming from. Something moved near me, and I closed my eyes to focus on my tremor sense.

Something big moved across the snow field behind me. Then something enormous hit about two feet behind me.

I dove forward, going into a roll to come up facing the thing that had just landed, swinging my fist in what I considered a textbook haymaker.

It connected with something very hard.

Like a rock.

It likely was a rock, because it rolled away under my assault, leaving me with an aching hand and a bruised ego.

I took half a moment to pull out an axe, using my left hand more than my right because reasons. Had I been able to break them, I would have shattered all my carpals, meta and otherwise, with that stone punch.

I took a measured, defensive approach, waiting for anything that might attack me through the blizzard.

Something did come at me.

Something that didn’t register on my tremor sense until it hit me in the fucking face, knocking me over.

I hadn’t been prepared for a big fuck-off boulder to smash into me, driving me deep into the snow where something sharp and pointy was hiding. It slipped through the rings of my hauberk and punctured me.

I was up on my feet in seconds, feeling the deep rage born of confusion and frustration, ready to kill all the things, especially the things that had to do with flying boulders and snow.

But nothing came at me.

The snow slowly settled, and there I was, with my axe, ready to get my murder on but without anyone to receive my wrath.

“What the fuck just happened?” I yelled to Yuri.

He’d gotten up from his rock and had his warhammer ready, but it didn’t look like he’d come much closer.

“I was planning on asking you that same question,” the lion man replied.

He moved nothing other than his head, scanning the terrain around us as if worried that any wrong step might cause a similar disturbance.

I started toward him, but the act of taking even a few steps was… difficult. The world moved more than it should, and I couldn’t quite figure out where I was going. It felt a little like being stuck in a Wayne’s World, doodly-do-doodly-do-doodly-do, wibbly-wobbly transition.

Then there was some wind on my cheeks. Things went blurry and cold. My face started freezing and I couldn’t move. It was dark. And then it was all gone.

61

Things didn’t feel right.

Which is a strange thing to say when trying to explain an unconscious state, but this wasn’t just a standard unconsciousness — I don’t think I even fully passed out. It was almost like I was stuck between dimensions, or worlds, or something else entirely. I was moving through bizarro space and time, with images and thoughts and feelings competing in my head for the prize of reality.

Then came the pain. It crashed over me like a wave, except from every angle at once. Like a god dumped a great bucket of agony down from the heavens right on top of me. It was the type of hurt that makes it difficult to comprehend anything besides pain, that makes you desperate to do anything to escape the torment. 

But then, just like there was a switch somewhere that flicked off, there was nothing. A blessed nothing, and I was back in the other space for the shortest of moments or the longest of lifetimes, unable to parse even the passage of time.

And then came the pain again. 

Out of nowhere, slamming into me, forcing me to become nothing but agony. A searing, burning sense that grew from the worst pain I’d ever felt to an all-new record, over and over again. It felt like someone was peeling my nerves apart like a burnout in detention pulls apart split ends. And just when I thought I had a grasp on the pain, it would shift. Burning to freezing, sharp to dull, aches to shooting pains. 

And it would stop on a metaphysical dime.

With such a quickness, in fact, that there didn’t even seem to be an aftertaste of the pain. Just a memory, a hint there’d been some horrific past I was desperate to avoid repeating.

But then it would return.

Over and over again, I went from the exquisite and overwhelming pain to floating nothingness. And though it was nigh on impossible to discern anything concrete in this state, it really seemed like the moments of agony grew longer and longer while the floating in the great nothing became more and more rare.

I felt the slightest hint of lucidity, and clocked that someone might be talking to me or around me. I might have learned a language or two. Notifications popped up, but I couldn’t read them. Couldn’t really even figure out what it was I was seeing, save a vague memory of another world where I’d been given notifications about skills and levels and points.

I wondered if I’d finally gotten sick in Vuldranni… if I was still there. Could this be some sort of magical illness that gave me fever dreams? Was I delirious?

But when the next wave of pain came along, every sense of the world was banished in a crash of pure, unadulterated anguish.

After the roiling waves of pain abated, I was left wondering why I hadn’t passed out. Where was that survival response? Why was I stuck in whatever was happening to me? I began to wonder if I could pray to Mister Paul, if he might allow me to just go home. Even if that meant actual death…

And yet, I couldn’t pull the metaphorical trigger. Maybe it would’ve been a different story if I’d had to actually do something beyond endure, if there’d been an actual choice to make. Like if the option to die had been presented to me, I’m not sure I could have resisted it. But all I could do was weather this. Gritting teeth I wasn’t sure I had, continuing to blaze a path through the world of pain.

Somewhere in there, again I thought I could hear people talking. I felt hands on me. Maybe even that I was, somehow, flying? Then it was dark, but warm, and I was shaking. And someone was singing. Smoke was everywhere and I couldn’t see. Even my tremor sense abandoned me. I couldn’t bring up my character sheet. It was all… broken. I was broken.

And then, it came again. The pain.

62

“... B

ut I think he might be coming around,” a voice said.

It was a small voice, not one I’d heard before, but I still tried to put a face to it. 

I couldn’t.

“He is… maybe awake?” the voice again. Closer, like they were looking over me. “Difficult to tell, though–”

I couldn’t see him — I couldn’t see anything. I tried to speak, but my mouth wasn’t working either. 

What was going on? 

I didn’t hurt, but I didn’t feel great either. Like a hangover from God himself, laid down upon a mortal in a Promethean punishment. My blood felt too thick to pump around my body.

“Hrm…” a closer voice said.

“Let me through,” Yuri. That was definitely Yuri speaking.

“Hold there, Yuri,” came the first voice. “I would not get your hopes up on him being… himself any longer.”

“What do you mean?” Yuri snapped.

“Would you stop?” came the second voice. “Let him hope.”

“Hope is dangerous,” said the first, but softer, as if giving in to the second voice’s authority.

“It is too early for hope or doom,” the second voice said. “And Yuri, I cannot tell you what will happen to him. He is clearly different from us. We can only make guesses based on what has happened in the past with us. At the start, it was little more than offering a quicker death in the hopes of staving off a bad death.”

“Bad death?” Yuri asked.

“Yes, involving swelling and blood and the death of parts before the whole. Things turning black and falling off, blood turned to sludge and seeping through. Sloughing of skin and the–”

“I get it, I get it,” Yuri interrupted.

“And our person, the one we cannot tell you about, they have allowed us to go from always dying badly, to occasionally not dying so badly. There have been ones who have survived–”

“So some have survived? You said–”

“Some have made it through, um, this. But few have lasted much longer beyond that. And even those who continue to live are nowhere near what they once were. They are broken, delicate, likely unable to survive for long, even if there weren’t all the other problems facing us.”

“This man is different.”

“So far, yes. In many ways. Which is why it is difficult to make a judgement, despite what Minola believes.”

“I speak only of what I see,” the first voice, apparently Minola, said. “He is dying. And if he does not perish completely, then it is only because he died partly.”

“He looks better,” Yuri barked.

“It is looking better than I initially thought,” the second voice said. “But Minola has seen this many times, and it may be you do not want to believe the truth, despite what we are telling you. This is very bad. And you, as his friend, cannot believe your friend will die. Right? So you think, ‘he will surely live’ because you are his friend. That is sensible. And natural. Whereas we have no feelings on that man, and are trying to tell you the truth as we see it, which is that the best hope of a positive outcome will be with him weaker than before, to the level that it might be difficult for you to see him as the same man.”

“That’s what I was saying, Vincentio!” Minola said.

“Well, but you said it much blunter and it sounded bad,” the second voice, apparently Vincentio, said softly. “But maybe it is better for you, Yuri, hearing that things might be bad.”

“I don’t know…” Yuri mused. “I have seen this man live through an unhealthy amount of wounds with nary an ill effect. So there is more than just sentiment making me hope that he will pull through.”

“He is listening to us now, which is perhaps a good sign. But maybe also questionable morals to eavesdrop, eh?”

“I wouldn’t say he has the most traditional moral sense.”

“Is it eavesdropping if you’re talking about me?” I asked. Or tried to ask, but my throat was rather dry and wasn’t so keen on working properly. 

“What was that?” Vincentio asked. 

“Water?”

I felt something cool at my lips, and drank.

“Small sips,” Minola said softly.

I followed the advice, but the cold water hit my stomach hard, causing cramps and pain.

I did my best to ignore it.

“I can’t see anything,” I said.

“Because you have a blindfold on,” replied Minola.

“Why?”

“It is bad for your eyes.”

“What is?”

“Light.”

“The light is bad–”

“Well, the light is bad for you at the moment, as your eyes are more sensitive, so it is better to shield them as we can. Hence, blindfold.”

I tried to move my arms, but they felt too heavy.

“Ah, look at that,” Minola said. “You tried to move.”

“I did, but–”

“That is very good.”

“But I couldn’t do it.”

“It is early yet.”

“Yuri, what the fuck is going on here?”

“A lot. But I think you should probably just rest.”

“Okay, but–”

“Just rest. I think I can coordinate to get Amber here and maybe you out, so⁠—”

As he was talking, I could feel myself getting woozy.

“Wait,” I said, reaching out in the direction of Yuri’s voice. “Tell me… did I… am I…”

“Did you drug him?” Yuri barked.

“We only gave him the next dose of medicine,” Vincentio replied, calm, but also with the tone that made it clear he was not to be fucked with. “I have let you see him. He improves. Now you will let him rest.”

“But…”

I didn’t hear the rest. Either he was removed from my room, or I passed out. Or it was a blend of the two.

63

Consciousness came again suddenly, like someone had thrown a bucket of water on me.

They’d taken my blindfold off, so I could finally see who’d provided the voices I’d been hearing. Though they really seemed like they might have stepped out of my fever dream, so it was still difficult for me to understand where I was in terms of reality and dream. 

They were small beings covered in soft fur, but they also wore pelts of creatures I couldn't identify. That told me we had to be somewhere cold, even though I felt warm. Over the pelts were pieces of armor, but not made of metal. It was something more like pieces of exoskeleton from gnarly creatures.

They had long faces. I don't mean that in the human sense where they looked like they might be sad or upset. These were literal long faces. They had thin snouts with pink noses that were kind of oddly protuberant. They had long whiskers, but judging from the small sample size in front of me, the whiskers were more decorative than functional, since each had styled them in a unique ‘do.’ Maybe since they didn’t have long enough hair to warrant hairstyles, they used their whiskers to that effect.

And maybe because the creatures were so small — I doubted they’d even come up to my waist, had I been able to stand — the structure was, well, tight. Given the low thatch happening above me for a ceiling, I presumed I was in a hut of some kind, or maybe a yurt. Although I think yurts have to be round, and this wasn’t — it was mostly square, and looked to have been built out of stacked dry stone with moss stuffed into the cracks. Would that be a hut then? Whatever the name for this structure, it seemed roughly big enough for me to lay down with my feet just touching one wall while my head brushed against the opposite. I wasn’t in the center laid diagonal, though, which would have been the longest straight line and might have allowed me to stretch my feet out instead of having to keep my ankles bent. I was a little off to one side, and there was maybe enough room for Ragnar to lay down next to me and the wall. If he wanted to get very comfortable. I definitely took up the bulk of the half of the space.

However small it might have been, I felt cozy in the place. There had to be a fire going somewhere — I couldn't see it and I didn't smell any smoke, but I could hear an occasional crackle. The warmth almost felt like it was coming from beneath me. 

I noticed a small table on the other side of the room, low to the ground, but with chairs around it. That’s where the strange new creatures were perched. All the furniture was stone. Looking around, I didn’t see much in the way of wood.  

Yuri crouched against the opposite wall with a clay bowl in his hands. Steam came from the bowl, and Yuri held it close to his face, breathing it in.

If he hadn’t been there, I’m pretty sure things would have gone differently, because everything was so fucking weird. He was a grounding force, and just him being there helped me accept the reality of the situation. So instead of prepping for a fight, I merely lay there quietly while the creatures, five that I could count, sat with Yuri having a quiet meal. I turned my attention inward, to try and get a glimpse of what was going on with me.

Except I was having trouble reaching my character sheet. I couldn’t see any notifications. Which, on the one hand, was a blessing because most of the time they were annoying as fuck. But on the other, it was the way the world worked, and not having access to that stuff was a major problem. Had I been cut out of the system somehow?

I swallowed my panic and tried to move on. 

I could feel my fingers and my toes. I moved them just a little, not enough that anyone might notice, but enough to establish to myself that I had control.

I could move things. Check.

I tried to slip into dark vision, but my eyes were not about that. They screamed in protest, the pain shocking me. But as soon as I stopped trying to make the switch, the pain vanished. Mostly. Lingering only a little, like an afterimage. 

This was not good.

I needed dark vision.

If I didn’t have it, did that mean that I’d lost all my powers and abilities?

I tried tremor sense, and breathed out slowly. 

Still there. I could feel individuals walking around outside. Some creatures digging below us. Quite a few… goats? Sheep? A group of four-footed creatures that seemed to be penned up together, who were being fed by someone else. It was really a trick to look at all the vibrations happening around me and translate that into actually knowing what was going on.

I opened my eyes to see Yuri looking over at me.

He nodded at me. I must have looked like I was confused about what the fuck was happening. 

"Are you coherent this time?" he asked. 

"I don't know," I replied. "What the fuck is happening?" 

All the eyes shot over to me. It was a little disconcerting. 

"Well,” Yuri said slowly, putting his bowl down, “it would probably do for you to tell me what you remember before I get into explaining what transpired." 

"We were up at the pass and… then it all kind of gets a little fuzzy. It was like a blizzard or something?”

“Or something, yes.”

“It would make sense for that to be his last memory,” came another voice, one I’d heard in my altered state before.

"Who are these friends of yours? Or maybe ours?" I asked.

"They are… I believe… friends?” Yuri asked as he looked at the one he ate with. “Regardless of who they might be tomorrow or who they were yesterday, for the moment, they are our saviors. They have lived in these mountains for time enough that they share an enemy of ours. Though it would be out of turn for me to speak on that.”

Yuri was being very cautious with his words, careful to say almost nothing. Just enough to make me think we probably weren’t prisoners here. It made me worry.

“Okay, so friends we don’t know that well yet.”

“Yes. Perhaps that's it.”

“What happened then? Was it the weather, or–”

“The weather…”

“We know little if they are behind that,” said one of the others. “Let us not grant them powers they have not.”

“Huh?” I asked.

Yuri held up his hand to me, and gave a smile to those at the table. Which was a little scary because he’s a fucking lion, so, not really made for smiling so much as being fierce and showing teeth, but I think he was aiming for friendly.

“I agree,” Yuri said. “Let us not dwell upon the weather, but know that topic remains unresolved. What happened exactly is somewhat unclear, but there was an attack. Do you remember the rocks falling?”

“Those were rocks? I remember snow. And not being able to see because it was, um, so much snow.”

“Apparently that was a byproduct of something throwing large rocks at us as we moved through the pass. Or, rather, at you whilst you scouted. I was, thankfully, able to find cover.”

“So we were attacked?”

“Yes.”

“And did I kill what attacked me?”

“That is unclear.”

“So we had to retreat?”

“No. Well, not exactly. I would not say that we are, necessarily, farther from our final destination now than when we were in that pass.”

“Okay, can you just break down what happened step by step?”

“I have been attempting that, but you seem to have pressing questions.”

“Sorry.”

“I can understand your confusion–”

“I am confused. Why am I so weak? What's going on here?"

Yuri sighed.

“Sorry,” I said.

Yuri gave me a wry grin, almost like he was enjoying my foolish repartée.

“Yes, well,” he began, “it is difficult to explain, as there have to be many conjectures based on circumstantial evidence. From what our friends here have told me, and the basis by which they have treated you, it would seem that you were bitten by a spider with impressive poison capabilities.”

One of the little people raised a paw.  "It is venom, not poison."

"Right," Yuri replied, "One would think one such as myself would know the difference, but for some reason, it always seems to elude me. But if you might allow me to continue–”

“I got bit by a spider?” I interrupted.

“Yes. That is what we believe happened, because I lack–”

“Less modifiers about beliefs. Just give me the quick version of the working hypothesis.”

“We were attacked. I saw that rocks were being thrown at you, and the rocks caused the snow to bloom around you to look like a thick blizzard. I cannot say for sure what transpired following that. When I could see, you were down, immobile in the snow. I attempted to move you, and managed to get you to what I thought was a safer position, where we were out of range of the rock throwers rocks. I did a cursory exam, but saw nothing to explain your state. At that time, these fine people approached me, claiming that they could help–”

“Did they see what happened?”

“If you continue interrupting, this will not be the quick version.”

“I’m sorry. I have a lot questions.”

“They did not see what happened. They were a forage party returning to where we are now. In the process of returning home, they found us. They made it clear that it was not safe to remain in the pass, not just because of what had attacked us, but that the temperature change overnight causes intense winds through the pass that can be strong enough to toss us off the mountain. So they assisted me in bringing you here.”

"Okay, but that doesn't really explain what happened," I interjected.

“It explains how you got here, doesn’t it? Let me finish.”

“Sorry.”

“When we got here, they put you in this hut and the healer,” Yuri pointed to one of the older guys in the room who had flecks of white amongst his otherwise red fur, “examined you, finding what I had not. You had a wound on your lower leg, something they claimed was a bite. It did look like a puncture to me, though it was rather messy, as if you’d moved in the middle of the bite. And there was already quite a bit of damage. Necrosis.”

“I had necrosis?”

“You did.”

“How?”

“I would imagine due to the venom⁠—”

“I mean, yeah, I get that. I just wasn’t — I mean — I thought that wasn’t possible.”

“It would appear that you were bitten by one of the daughters,” said the older furry one.

“The daughters?” I asked.

“Yes,” Yuri said.

“At least,” the elder one added, a little softer. “I would imagine it was one of them.”

“Whose daughters?” I asked.

“The matriarchs.”

I grit my teeth. “Who are they?”

“The matriarchs are–” the older guy started, but Yuri cut him off.

“They are the leaders of a group that lives in that valley on the other side of the pass where we were attacked.”

“And the group, they’re–” I tried to drill down into specifics.

“Spider-like,” Yuri said.

“Motherfuckers. Spiders?”

“Yes.”

The older furry fellow in the back cleared his throat.

“What?” I asked.

“It would… they are not merely spiders–”

“So SpidersPlusPlus?”

“Yes, but–”

“Do we need to have an argument over the definition here?”

“No,” Yuri snapped. “It is not important at the moment. These things–”

“SpidersPlusPlus,” I offered up.

“If you would like to call them that, I suppose I can agree. But it seems longer than alternatives. The group has had some contact with our new friends here, contact that has been adversarial–”

“They have driven us to where we are now,” a younger furry fellow said, “away from the place we called home.”

“And we have made peace with the new life,” the elder snapped at the youth. “We seek only to offer you help as you are healed."

“And you are?” I asked.

“We are paduan.”

“paduan?”

“Yes. I am Minola. That is my son, Petruchio.”

“I’m Montana. Nice to meet you. And thank you.”

“You are most welcome.”

"But getting back to the issue at hand — you, the paduans, think I was bitten by a spider, or, rather something that is spider-like that you call one of the daughters. Is that correct?"

“Mostly,” Minola replied.

Yuri sighed. I got the feeling he’d been dealing with circular paduan conversations for a while now. Their need for specificity on everything was a lot.

“That is the gist of what happened,” Yuri said. “You were bitten, and the venom from the daughter caused the reaction you are now experiencing. Which, from what these kind folk have told me is rare, because–”

“Most everyone dies,” Petruchio said.

Minola glared at his son.

“I’m a decent healer,” I said.

"We have found that to be true, yes. And you are reacting positively to the medicines we developed to deal with the venom of the daughters. But it has rarely been truly successful in helping anyone fight off death. Largely, it has been successful in making death not… awful.”

“I’m glad I can buck the trend.”

“Before you are too hopeful, there have been a few who have received the medicine following a bite and who do survive. But they are never quite the same. Sadly, many times we have witnessed what we imagined was a full recovery, only for them to die horribly shortly thereafter. So I do not want you to believe you are through everything, for there is likely to be much pain still coming."

“Great, um, bedside manner, doc.”

“Doc?”

“Ignore that,” Yuri said, then turned to me. “Have you been in pain?”

"Oh, a little,” I replied. I wasn’t sure if I should be fully honest here. Partially, I wasn’t sure how to go about explaining what it was I went through, beyond saying it was impressively awful.

“One who was coherent for some time told me it is the worst pain they ever felt,” Petruchio said. “Then they asked me to kill them, that it would be better to die than–”

“That’s not super helpful,” I said, neglecting to mention that it had been exactly what I’d considered when in the throes of everything.

“It would be best to let him rest,” Minola said. “I would ask all to leave our guests to their cottage.”

The older paduan got the group out of my little hut. There was a shock of cold air as they left, and I caught a glimpse of a snow-covered landscape outside. 

Yuri sat against the far wall. He gave me a look that was somewhere between disappointed and hopeful.

“What the fuck is happening here?” I asked.

“I know so little.”

“Who are these people?”

“The paduans?”

“Yeah. Are we still within the duchy?”

“I believe so.”

“So these are my, what? Subjects?”

“I know little of how your system works–”

“You joined the Empire, bub. It’s your system too.”

“Right, of course, just… You were not particularly surprised about the spiders, or the spiders plus plus as you call them.”

“I’ve dealt with them before.”

“You were aware of them?”

“Just said that.”

“If I am… these were not creatures mentioned to me.”

“They must have been–”

“I feel I would have remembered a group such as this. And that–”

“Maybe it’s because you’re a monster hunter and these fucks weren’t classified as monsters. Even though they clearly should be.”

“Are they?”

“Are they what?”

“Are they monsters?”

“I don’t know — what’s the definition?”

“When you identify them, are they classified as monsters?”

“I think they’re spiders.”

“Interesting. In which case, it would be incorrect–”

“Okay, but they’re pretty fucking monstrous.”

“Perhaps, but that is not–”

“No more semantics arguments, godammit!”

“Of course.”

“These fucking spider fucks have convinced a lot of people that their valley is our valley, and they’re luring people there to…” I stopped myself because I didn’t want to finish the thought where I’d be forced to–

“To what, Montana?” Yuri asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You have an idea.”

“You don’t want to hear it.”

“We are not in the habit of holding things back from each other, are we?”

“No, just–”

“Tell me, then. I likely already suspect–”

“Eat them. I remember that they were fond of eating people. Humans, though. At least, that’s what… I’m sorry.”

“That has long been my fear,” Yuri said softly. “Though there is nothing to say that my family would be chosen as food when we are different than what is normally preferred.”

“Exactly.”

“I would leave you, if you do not mind,” he said. “I would like to think on things.”

“Sure,” I said, but he wasn’t waiting for me to give him permission to go. He was already out of the hut.

I shook my head and stared up at the ceiling. What the fuck was going on…

64

Ilay there, staring up at the ceiling I'd become very fucking well acquainted with. The only thing I had to entertain me was the ceiling. I'd gotten to know the different clumps of moss, and all the little stuff between the bricks and blocks. I had the occasion to think, what's the difference between a brick and a block? Is there a difference? There has to be, right?

I didn't know.

I'd done a little construction work. There's always a bit of money to be made if you have a strong back and confidence brought about by being able to fake having knowledge. But it wasn't exactly a difficult transition for me to make when I realized that I was very good at violence. There’s a lot of money to be made with violence, if you’re willing to lean into it as a tool of business. 

I remember once someone telling me that in conventional society, only the government has legal access to violence, but that there are those who accept the risks associated with using violence, and that such a willingness opens up many additional avenues of business and opportunity.

Suffice to say, while I'd done enough manual labor to know some of the rules, I hadn’t done enough to actually understand the bigger picture. I'd never bothered to actually learn the vocabulary, because even when I was on a job, the bulk of what I had to do was in the ‘push box, get banana’ category. At least until I went and worked in the circus. 

There, I’d been forced to learn a lot. There was no other option — I had to do the jobs that needed doing. And a strangely kind man had been unwilling to send me packing. Even when I tried to give him a reason. I couldn't quite make myself quit when I realized how hard and unpleasant the job was going to be, so I tried to make my boss fire me. I was purposely bad at my job. But the problem was, I'd already been good at it, and the fucker saw right through me. Which was pretty fucking annoying.  Made me wonder if that’s how Skeld felt…

But somewhere in my sullen self-pity party, I actually started to enjoy it the job. I didn't want to get canned anymore. And then I met her. And she was more than enough to keep me there. 

Another wave of pain coursed through me. It was hard to even understand what it could possibly be, how this level of anguish could keep coming back. And I had a litany of things to compare it to. I'd been shot and I'd been stabbed. I'd been electrocuted, though not struck by lightning, so difficult to gauge on that. I'd been bitten by, well, once I put this light in it, more random shit than I’d ever comprehend. 

Work in the circus was hard, but weirdly, life there was easy. Everything was taken care of for me. All I had to do was all I needed to do. I did my job, and they gave me the rest. Food, housing, transportation, a place to hang out, people to be with, a family — the circus gave me all of that. 

It's difficult to describe what that was like, what that offered me, and what that offered the girl. Within those borders we could be new people, without any of the other baggage. I don't think we realized we hadn’t actually gotten rid of our baggage, though. The circus just carried it for us. When you left, you got it all back. I think that's why some people never left. 

My buddy Richie was going to die putting those tents up and taking them down. Not early, not in a bad way — although he did have a habit of relying on cocaine to get going in the mornings. I wouldn't say he abused cocaine. He treated it incredibly well. Probably whispered sweet nothings to his baggies every morning and night. And on the rare occasions he slept, Richie was probably big spoon to his special spoon. But he wasn’t going to die to the drugs — he was just going to get old and never leave that life. He wasn’t going to leave.

When we left the circus, reality smacked us in the face like we’d decided to run naked through a car wash. We tried to make it work, and I honestly thought we could. We’d gotten over some humps and bumps… but when what happened happened… I didn't believe it.

I couldn't believe it.

And the actions I took in the months that followed were obviously the ones that inexorably led to where I was now. Or then. 

I laughed to myself. How unbelievably unfair.

Here I was, laying in this tiny hut, coming off of the most unimaginable physical pain of my life, only for my stupid fucking brain to bring up an entirely different awful pain, so I could just suffer in all the ways. How lucky that I could just lay there and relive all the mistakes I'd made, stepping through every fucking what-if. Wondering what I would do if I could just go back. Get one do-over. 

I’d go back and say, "Hey, you know what? Maybe, my dear, maybe we shouldn't leave the circus. I know it ’s kind of bad. I know the new housing person sucks like six pounds of shit in a one-pound bag. I know she doesn’t like us and gives us crap housing. I know the new chef is sleeping with the logistics head and neither one of them is doing the food orders, which is why we’re being fed pizza for the fifth night this week. I know that same logistics head forgot to get forklifts for the next town so we’ll have to deal with the shitty remnants from the cut-rate tool rental house, and we’ll have to use ladders in the man lifts because they’ll be too short. I know the corners are being cut awfully close, and that all the niceties are slowly dripping away, because even though Normand is the nicest guy I know, his business partners demand increasing profits. I know. But at least if we stay there, we can be what we want to be without any of the outside bullshit.”

And I like to think that she would turn to me and say, “You know what, Nils? That's a good idea. That's what we're going to do. You and me, we're going to be like Richie and Mandy.”

“Well, not exactly like Richie,“ I’d say. “He’s addicted to blow and goes through wives like a fat kid goes through the hostess factory. How many ex-wives has he got now?”

“Only seven,” she’d say, giggling. Because when it was just the two of us, she was a giggler.

“Seven? I thought it was nine.”

“Two marriages got annulled, so those don’t count.”

“You know he’s engaged to Mandy,” I’d say.

“They’re engaged?”

“I think they could go the distance.”

And she'd say, “By go the distance, do you mean get married in the next city and get divorced before the tour hits Europe?” 

And I would say, “Yes, because they are terrible for each other.”

And she would say, “Do you think we’re terrible for each other?”

And I would say, “No, I think we're great for each other.” 

And she would smile.

And I would smile.

And we would be happy. 

But then she would say, “But don't you think maybe we should see if we're great for each other out in the real world, instead of just this pretend one?”

And because I knew she was right, that we couldn't remain hidden away forever, and anyway why would I want to be hidden away from the world if I was with her, I would probably say, “Sure, that's a good idea.”

So even in this new go-round in the old world, we would go. Inevitably we would leave the circus. And everything would wind up happening the way that it had the first time. Except, maybe, we'd have spent an extra ten minutes debating whether or not we should leave.

But maybe I’d have gotten another giggle out of her, and that might have been worth it.

Maybe.

All to say, it sucked.

Every second there sucked.

I lay there bored and stressed and frustrated, which is really a stunning combination. All that bullshit happening to my body was just enough to make me forget I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about her and the old world. And I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t do anything period, and the inability to do shit was burrowing into me, making rage bubble. And there was nowhere for that rage to go, so it just simmered.

I wanted to tear things apart, scream. I wanted to rip the mountain in half and find Yuri's family. I wanted to find these Foggeshall fucks and kill every single one of them in a symphony of violence, and baptize myself in their blood.

But I couldn't make my body work. Every time I started moving, the pain would move faster. If my heart started pumping any faster than just resting, merely laying down being still, I could feel whatever was inside me start to move. Burning me and killing me. The venom, or whatever, was still in my system, and that blood movement would be the catalyst to bring the pain again.

So I didn't move. I lay there thinking, wondering what was next. What was I going to do? How could I go back to that old world? How could I find the girl and bring her to this world, even though she wasn't in that old world? Or wasn’t in any world, being that… 

I forced myself to face what had happened in the old world. I forced myself, over and over again, to admit to reality. Now I was here, in Vuldranni, and this new world was magical and fantastical. And the magic made this world incredible — it made it possible for me to regrow a leg after a giant monster ripped it off, a for the monster to later become a friend.

The old world didn't have that magic.

And in that old world, she had died.

Which meant she was dead.

And she would remain dead.

Because in that old world, the dead don't rise, and the only monsters were the ones we made of ourselves.

65

There was no real way for me to know how long I'd been there. Keeping track of time just wasn’t an option with the sheer agony of it all. I couldn’t really sleep, and I didn't exactly have access to daylight since I also couldn’t move. I had to rely on the door opening to even get a sense of if it was night or day.

I’d just barely get things working, and then came the suffering. 

At one point, feeling particularly annoyed at everything, I tried to get up. But I vomited from the pain, crashing back down to the ground, and had to lay there next to a puddle of clear broth dinner puke. Or clear broth breakfast puke. Hell, pick a meal, and that could have been it, because it was all clear fucking broth. The paduans were feeding someone they thought might become an invalid in the best case, but who was probably dying. Slowly. I’m sure they weren’t keen on continuing to feed me at all, and I probably should have been happy with the fact that I was getting anything in the realm of sustenance. Probably Yuri was forcing them.  

Eventually, Vincentio came and cleaned up my mess. He’d been in a few times to check on me, and would occasionally stay and chat a little. Which was helpful, because the pain made all the details I knew I’d been told fade away. But slowly, through repetition, I was putting it together.

I was in a small village full of creatures known as paduans. They were shorter beings that had a rodent like bearing, long snouts tipped with pink noses and fancy whiskers. Longer teeth, smaller ears, and short tails that only occasionally peeked out from under their omnipresent heavy pelt coats. I thought they were a weird step above hunter-gatherers until I realized they were refugees who had run away from their original homes after being chased by fucking spiders. They were carving out new lives after losing everything they had, most of them forced into new roles they’d never experienced before. Bakers turned lichen harvesters, tailors turned tanners, smiths turned bone carvers.

The paduans had, at one point, lived in what I had thought of as the Hot Valley, the one that’d been full of spiders and brownies and witches, until I visited and helped the witches and brownies leave. And it would appear the paduans had been one of the original settlers of the valley, and had welcomed the brownies and the witches. When the spiders arrived, the paduans, in their pacifistic ways, accepted the spiders’ violence until there were only a handful of paduans left, and they had no choice but to run or die. I couldn’t imagine it was all paduans, but this group was painfully conflict-averse, just going with the flow of things and trying to stay alive without standing up for themselves or even being an inconvenience to someone else. Which I couldn’t help thinking was dumb.

I started to wonder how many times Vincentio had told me about the paduans, and how many times I thought that their response to conflict was dumb. I was spending too much time alone in my head. 

But in that particular moment, post-puke, clean, and with another bowl of sorta-food in my stomach, I entered that fleeting euphoric state that really only happens when an ever-present pain subsides. For one brief, glorious slice of time, it was totally gone, and I felt ebullient. 

And then of course, the pain began to build again. In tiny ways at first, and then it rose up and crashed over me in a tsunami. I started to think through some of the things I couldn't quite remember, like my my formerly vast suite of abilities.

“Wouldn’t it be fantastic,” I said out loud, “if I could, I don't know, just see my fucking character sheet?”

No one replied, because I was alone again. Vincentio had slipped out at some point.

Oddly enough, my outburst didn’t make the system magically reappear. But I felt better after yelling.

And in that moment I remembered other times when I’d been able to use a skill or an ability, or a blend of the two, to make pain go away. Or at least to hide the pain away, so I didn't have to worry about it.

So unsurprisingly, I was desperate to do that again. But that meant I’d need to figure out which ability it was so I could actually engage it. But given the overwhelming fog rolling through my brain, I couldn't remember the name of whatever it was. Or what they were. I couldn’t even think of a single one of my fucking abilities or skills.

I thought maybe it had something to do with one of the bonuses I got when I’d gone through the blood test with Benedict, when I’d been tapped as having Royal Blood or some shit. Royal…. something. Maybe something to do with bears? Royal bears. But that couldn't be right. Bears had nothing to do with the Imperial family. Their thing was the… wolf? Eagle? Was it a bear? Was mine a bear? It started with b… the Coggeshall…Balderdash? Couldn’t be the bald eagle…

“Well this is fucking embarrassing,” I muttered to myself.

I couldn’t even remember my own fucking crest of arms.

I willed my indicium to flare.

To my surprise, they did.

The designs began to appear all over me, and even though I had to grit my teeth to pull down the blanket enough to expose my skin, I saw all my various magical tattoos. Magitats? Still workshopping that…

Through a bit of a haze, which made it take longer than it should have, when I looked at each indicium, I could call up the memory of what it was, but also the system prompt for it. Just in a fuzzy way where I couldn’t really decipher everything. Like reading a playbook through a concussion.

I admired my Slayer indicium, the way it was built from so many little marks to make something cool and unique and badass. The vampire aspect on one side, the goblin on the other, and how they wove into the general, you've-shed-so-much-fucking-blood-your-worthless-gore-soaked-soul-is-destined-to-burn-in-the-deepest-and-foulest-of-all-real-and-imagined-hells-forever-because-of-how-many-lives-you've ended-and-how-many-families-you've-destroyed-but-don’t-think-about-that-too-hard-you-fucking-sociopath aspect of it. Which wasn't its official name, but was more accurate to what I had done. 

And anyway, in almost all those cases, they probably had it coming.

But even though I could pinpoint the slayer indicium, I couldn’t pick out the heraldic crest. Later, I realized it was just on my chest, but I couldn’t seem to think to look there. Nothing jumped out to me to say, “Hey, this thing on your fucking chest is the Coggeshall achievement. This is the animal that represents it, the bandersnatch, and these are the things your family crest has opened to you.”

I knew that the bulk of what it did was just unlock Coggeshall stuff for me. Coggeshall stuff that I didn’t think existed, because while there had once been Coggeshall lands filled with Coggeshall buildings built by the Coggeshall family, I was the only remaining member on the only lands currently designated as Coggeshallian.

It would probably be a good idea for me to consider either adopting someone or having a family of my own. But that was way more than I should have been thinking about in that moment, because I was pretty close to just crashing out into a dark place. 

So I did what any intelligent person would do, and I stood up as fast as I could. Which turned out to be one hell of a mistake, because good God, it was as if I had drunk an entire bottle of liquid fire while having molten iron injected into my veins. The inside of me burned. I half expected to see my fingernails charred as smoke came out of every single pore of my body. My consciousness kept me upright for… at least two seconds.

But in that tiny space of unconsciousness, while my body was going through it, I kind of shifted my mind off somewhere else just enough that it finally came to me.

That's Not Pain.

That was the name of the ability Of course that’s what it would be called. And that’s all I needed. Since I’d treated my skills and abilities like I was Inspector Gadget, where I would say, "Go go, Gadget fuck-him-up” to get those extra fuck-him-up points, or however such an ability would work, I could just do the same thing now that I had the name of the ability.

And as I woke up, I lay there thinking: That’s Not Pain was a stupid name for an ability. All of the names were pretty stupid, actually. Why were they doing that? Who came up with them? 

I braced myself, preparing to get a quest notification to find out why the ability names were so stupid. But nothing happened.

At least now I had a plan. I was laying not on the bed, because clearly when I’d passed out, I’d fallen across our hut. My feet were on my bed and my head was in Yuri's bedroll, and I felt a bit of sticky blood on my forehead. Which meant I'd been out for a while. Long enough to bleed, and have the blood dry somewhat. Also, I didn't feel the cut, so I’d been out long enough for my healing to take effect and stitch my dumb ass back together. I did a slow and careful feel around to see if I had any other wounds.

Nothing.

It was nice to see that my healing was still in effect, at least to some capacity, because I really sort of depended on that shit to stay alive. 

Then I said “Go Go Gadget That’s-Not-Pain!”

In my head.

And I stood up, bracing myself.

But I didn't feel the pain.

I wanted to whoop, but I also knew that a whoop would probably involve jumping, and my head was already brushing against a ceiling that didn’t feel overly structurally secure. So I had an internal whoop.

Finally, I thought, I conquered this. Let's go find Yuri's family. 

I took a few steps, but immediately problems came up. The biggest one being That's Not Pain didn't work the way that I thought it did. Which is probably just a blanket statement that could apply to everything I’d come across in this new fucking world. Either the world was completely fucking bonkers, or I was an idiot. And having been told the bulk of my life that I was an idiot, I was leaning towards the latter. 

The pain hadn’t totally gone away with no consequences — I could feel something happening internally. And I know that's a sort of amorphous term to describe the inside of Montana activities, but it was an amorphous and nebulous something going on inside me. Standing there and paying attention to the something, it started to feel as if there was a reservoir being filled up with the pain, and I could feel it getting filled as I moved around. That this ability wasn't just blocking the pain, just putting it to the side, holding it for me so I could have it later. And there was definitely the feeling that either I could drop the ability and feel the stored pain then, or I could push it and wait for the dam to break, and then get that wave of pain.

I wasn’t sure that would definitively happen, but that's what it felt like. I was on borrowed time, and the pain was going to come back, and it would suck. So I decided to test it.

I sat down, released That’s Not Pain, and… wow.

You know, I think there's a limit to what brains can process in terms of input, especially input coming in at the same time. So when the onslaught of agony happened, a flash of just pure, unadulterated awfulness, white-hot, sharp, and aching, an unrelenting smorgasbord of, Dear God, I wish I could die and not go through this anymore pain, my brain saw that and was just like, “Nope, too much. I’m out." 

That time, I didn't go to the liminal space.

Instead, it was like an on-off switch. Flash of pain, then absolutely nothing.

I was out.

Then I was back. And because bodies and brains are weird, in that first instant of being back, I worried I’d died. I kind of had the sense that there was a point where there’d be so much pain coming at once, that my brain would just permanently break, and there would be no coming back.

There was no real way to judge what had happened, except that I was still sitting down. Only now I was leaning against the wall, my mouth was dry, and I felt a bit run down. I wasn't sure how long it would take to dry out a mouth… but no one had come to check on me. No one was there looking over me, and I hadn’t been buried.  

Immediately, I activated the ability again, because I had to. It was the only way I could function, even at a basic level. And as soon as I did, I realized I had access to the system again: I could see my character sheet. Some of it at any rate.

It seemed like I couldn’t really access everything at once in a general way. Focusing on one thing would bring up that element, so I could focus and see my HP, just not quickly glance at everything, unless it was just the bars that tucked into the corner of my vision.

Surprise, surprise: I was not at full health.

I watched my HP bar moving a little bit. You know the thing you do when you can't tell if something is moving, so you, like, pick a point and watch that point to see if the bar moves? Something that I used to do while waiting for a game to not freeze on the install. I did that until I realized I could just look at the numerical value, and I could see, in fact, that my HP was dropping. Steadily.

It wasn't that fast, but it was clear there was a blood price paid for holding back the pain. Or maybe the ability was free, but the pain was so extreme that this was an additional thing happening. Or, third option, the pain was a side-effect of the damage happening to my body… I wasn't sure.

I needed more data to actually put it all together. Better, I needed Lee here to walk me through what data I fucking needed, and then I’d need him to analyze the fucking data, because he'd be able to figure it out.

I needed to stop leaving Coggeshall.

But to do that, I needed to get back to Coggeshall.

And that required doing something.

So I got up and walked a few laps around the little hut.

The movement increased the rate at which my HP drained. Additionally, I had to keep a measure of focus on the That's Not Pain to use it. As I was moving, I was generating more pain steam that needed to be held in the boiler.

I thought, maybe, there might be something in the ability’s description that could give me a better glimpse into how it worked.

That’s Not Pain - You’ve experienced pain. Real Pain. Over and over and over again. Pain on top of pain. And you’ve managed to keep going, even when every fiber of your being is begging you to stop. You may block out all pain as long as you have at least 25% of your HP remaining.

So I had to stay above twenty-five percent HP. When I got down below that, the ability would shut off. And then I’d likely pass out. It seemed like, while passed out, my healing would kick in and get me back up to the point where I was healed enough to wake up.

I tested it, moving around enough to build up some pain steam. My HP got like R. Kelly: down low. I released the ability, passed out, woke up, and checked things again. HP was back up. Not all the way though. If I remained still after waking up, I could get my HP to keep going up a bit, but it didn’t seem like I could heal fully. Maybe that explained the run-down feeling.

After another few rounds of using my ability, turning it off, and then passing out, I thought I had a few things figured out. Or at least more figured out. I realized that if I was starting at what the new default ‘healed’ level was, I would need to release the pain well before my HP got to the magic twenty-five percent mark. And the more I experimented, what started as an amorphous, vague concept became closer to concrete. I could tell when I’d have to release the ability, and that something messed up was going to happen when I released it.

But using That’s Not Pain was the only way I could move around and do things. Which meant I could potentially get myself to Coggeshall, where maybe I could heal completely. Or, more likely, I could just do the pain game thing for a while while we went and got Yuri's family. And if I survived that, then I could go down to Coggeshall actually get fixed up.

I was ready to go. Raring to go, even. And in that excitement, feeling great and having a plan and all that, I ran out of the hut, ready to make shit happen.

But I’d forgotten that the unending excruciating pain was just the first of my problems. The second was that I was stark naked.

And so I had exited the little hut into a full-on snowstorm with absolutely nothing on. It was so damned cold I thought I was about to lose all of my extremities, important one included. For the briefest of nanoseconds I weathered the weather, but I could already feel the overwhelming pain coming. The intense cold ramped up the pain cycle… meaning I’d lost my immunity to temperature. In any case, I dove back inside, hitting my bedroll just as I slipped out of consciousness.

66

Word of my return to mobility spread around the village in no time, and before I knew it, Vincentio was in my hut sitting across from me, staring at me as I put on clothes that mostly fit. One of the drawbacks to my magic bag of loot was that I didn’t have much incentive to ever check my inventory. So when I reached into the bag to get a pair of pants, the bag just gave me whatever pants it thought I wanted. Sometimes they fit. More often, I would just continue pulling out trousers until I got something that wouldn’t immediately rip when I put them on. Although often, they’d just rip later. 

What I wanted were the magic god-given pants that didn’t tear, if I could remember where the fuck I’d left them…apparently not in my bag.

“Most impressive,” Vincentio said.

“My pants?”

The paduan’s furry face screwed up in confusion. He glanced down at my legs.

“They are…” he began, pausing mid-sentence, “pants, yes. But impressive?”

“Not really, no.”

“You are upright. That is why I am impressed. Not… your pants.”

“Ah, got it. But you know, I mean, some people think that my legs are nice — I’ve got good quads and a solid set of calves. Maybe I could break a quarter with my ass, even. Or bounce a walnut. Either one, totally plausible.”

“A quarter of what? And why you have tried these things?”

“I haven’t, but I feel reasonably confident I could swing ‘em. You want me to try?”

“I do not,” he replied, a little too quickly for my taste. “I need to examine you, not see you engage in parlor tricks.”

“Okay, but only because you don’t have a parlor.”

He just frowned at me, then stood and walked over. Which makes it sound like the hut was larger than it was, because he could have reached me from Yuri’s bedroll just by leaning, really.

Once in place, he put his hand on my forehead. He looked into my eyes, and then my ears, and in general poked and prodded me. He listened to my chest and my back. It was a strange check up because it was far more normal than I’d expected. Other than the fact that it was being done by a furry little animal-man, it felt like any other physical.

“I would like to inspect your bite,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow, but opened my mouth.

He glared at me, and checked inside. Then he snatched my leg and pulled my pants up enough to look at the back of my calf, wrenching my leg around so that I fell on my back.

I couldn’t tell what he was doing — tough to see the back of one’s own calves, after all — but he poked and prodded around with intense pressure. I wanted to make a joke about a massage, but he hadn’t been particularly receptive to any of my antics, so I kept quiet. He was tiring of me, and I had to admit, I was a little annoyed myself.

“The necrosis has reversed,” he said softly, maybe to himself. “Though…”

He plunged his thumbs deep into my muscle, like I’d imagine a masseuse would after being indecently propositioned for a happy ending. 

I took in a breath on instinct, preparing for a pain-splosion, intense and consuming. Didn’t come. It did, however, move that metaphorical needle on the pain-steam gauge, making it damn clear it was going to burst. And it was enough pain at once that it felt as if someone was pulling at my hold on That’s Not Pain. I had to focus on it more intentionally to keep it in place.

The healer mumbled something before continuing his exploration of my leg. Nothing else he did was as bad though.

“Your recovery is… unique,” the healer finally said, coming back around to stand in front of me. “I have many questions.”

“Maybe I can give you some answers.”

“How did you do it?”

“Do what? The healing?”

“Yes. If there is some secret you have that we can use with any future bite victims…”

“I think it’s because of my abilities and some… um… some of my stats.”

“What is your constitution?”

“High.”

“Thirty?”

“Much higher. It’s–”

Vincentio waved me to stop, saying, “There is no need for me to know the exact number. I imagine that a high con would improve survivability, though it has not necessarily been a marker of success so far.”

“You’ve had some high-con victims?”

“Yes. One who had… over fifty? Something close, but I have forgotten their exact numbers. But it did not seem to help. They were unable to halt the necrosis, not even after amputation. Organ failure, bleeding out, their progress to death was… unpleasant.”

“Seems like unpleasant is underselling it.”

“I am trying to keep… I do not like to speak about the negatives, especially with a recovering patient.”

“But I’m better.”

“Are you though? I suspect you are hiding something from me. Which is foolish, for I am here to help you. Do you think I would find you weak because you suffer in some capacity? That I might take advantage of you in some way whilst you are… unwell?”

“I don’t know.”

“So you admit there is something you are hiding from me?”

“The pain hasn’t really gone away.”

“You think the pain is from the venom?”

“You’re the healer — do you?”

“It would be likely, yes. I can find no evidence of continued necrosis, so⁠—”

“I think it has to be that then? I don’t know. It’s like, I’m fine for a while, but the pain always returns. And it’s a bad pain. The worst I’ve ever felt. It comes back like a cycle. And if I move around, it comes back faster and worse.”

“So how have you been walking around?”

“I have an ability where I can ignore pain for a time.”

“And when that time is over?”

“I get to experience the pain I missed.”

“So right now, do you–”

“I’m using the ability.”

“And when you stop?”

I sighed, and let the ability drop.

A brilliant and glorious agony crashed down across my entire being, and I fought my brain to stay conscious.

I lost the fight.

67

Iwoke to the healer looking down at me.

“Oh, hello there,” I said.

He smiled his shrew smile.

“You are back,” he replied. “The pain?”

“Currently absent, even though I’m not using that ability.”

“Might I help you sit up?”

“Sure, thanks.”

He put his tiny hands on me, and I felt the barest tug, which wasn’t going to move my torso in the slightest, so I just kinda sat up on my own.

“Pain?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

“Good, good.”

“Should I, I mean, what’s the next step here?”

“Your friend would like to meet the one who has assisted us of late, the one who developed the medicine you took. But that one would prefer if you were there as well.”

“Sounds good — let’s do it.”

He sighed.

“I would advise you to continue resting.”

“I really can’t. I have to help my friend get his family back.”

“You intend to leave here?”

“I mean, I do like living with y’all, but damn, I miss solid food.”

“We have solid food.”

“Often?”

That got a scowl. “You have been eating broth because you have not been upright. And you are not well enough to leave the village. I won’t allow it.”

“Okay, but could I go speak with this fellow?”

He stared at me a minute, then sighed.

“I will ask. If it is amenable, I will ask Petruchio to guide you and Yuri over.”

“Thank you,” I said.

He gave me a nod, and then a gentle push that I think meant he wanted me to lay back down.

“In the meantime,” he said, going for the exit, “rest.”

I managed to avoid grumbling until after the healer left, but I was sick of doing nothing.

68

It was powerfully cold outside. Moving through the village verged on on painful, with the wind whipping so hard against any exposed skin I worried I’d get frostbite just getting from one hut to the next. Seemed like the combination of wind and ice was doing a bang up job of exfoliation. Ten minutes outside might get rid of all that pesky skin that I’d worked so hard to grow back.

And yet, the new feeling of being outside and it being so cold was actually a relief. Just to have something new to focus on. Even if it was… also unpleasant.

It bothered me that I had no idea know how long it had taken me to recover. But to be fair, I still had long stretches where the pain overtook my brain, so it wasn’t too surprising I kept forgetting to ask. Kinda wish someone had thought to offer that kind of intel up. There were just too many things that I needed to find out.

Petruchio scurried along, his hood pulled tightly around his head. It was an absurdly huge hood, but required to accommodate his prodigious snout. The paduans looked more like shrews than anything else I could imagine, so I tended to believe that's what they were. Not that the comparison did much for me — I didn't know anything about shrews, so I had no idea if these things were at all like the things at home. 

I shook myself mentally, remembering how wrong it was to call them things. These were people, and they’d saved my ass. And yet, they looked like fucking hair dryers in their big-ass hoods. With tiny feet and weird boots.

Petruchio wove along a tight path between squat, snow-covered stone huts until we arrived at our destination. He turned and held up a hand.

Yuri stepped into the light from around the corner. We waited for Petruchio to open the door. He moved a leather curtain and disappeared into the darkness.

I started to follow, but Yuri grabbed my shoulder. He gave me a thumbs up and a questioning look that made it clear he was checking on me. I smiled and returned the gesture. I thought the ridiculous wind made any other means of communicating impossible, but then Yuri leaned to me and yelled in my ear.

“What is our plan here?” He shouted.

“Where?” I shouted back.

“In there? Do we tell this stranger the truth of our identities⁠—”

“No. We keep to the story. We are just travelers⁠—”

“I think that is a mistake⁠—”

“I think we keep the course. See who he is, what he has to say⁠—”

Yuri clearly disagreed, pulling himself away enough to make that clear. But he didn’t say anything else, which I took for tacit agreement that we would go with my plan.

I turned and looked out on more huts than I’d anticipated. I thought the settlement was tiny, with maybe four or five huts holding a few families of paduans. But huts spread out all across this mildly flat area. Though after a moment I realized we were in a field of rocks. Some were big enough to be legitimate boulders, and everything was snow-covered, making it hard to tell the difference between huts and boulders.

I was about to press Yuri on the matter, see what he’d learned about our hosts, when Petruchio popped back out and beckoned for us to follow.

69

Both Yuri and I had to bend over to fit inside the door. But this place had a few steps cut down into the ground, and after taking them I could actually stand upright without hitting my head. It still felt low, like an old basement, and it was dark. All the light came from flickering oil lanterns mounted on the walls. Let’s just assume they vented outside somehow.

I was not expecting to see another human standing in that room, but that’s who was there. He had long hair and a full beard, both incredibly sleek and well cared for. Graceful fingers tapped on skinny legs, his nerves apparent. 

I had an idea, maybe a way to put the man at ease, and, also maybe get some hot tips on caring for my own facial paraphernalia.

"My man," I smiled, "your beard is fucking flawless. What's the secret?" 

It was as if I uttered magic words. His nerves seemed to disappear, and a genuine, if bashful smile spread across his face until he turned to hide the blush coming on his cheeks. 

"It is difficult, but," he started, “I make do with what I have." 

He gestured at a table behind him with a solid assortment of brushes, combs, oils, gels, treatments, and other little things. 

"Holy shit," I said, "that's awesome.”

“Can I— well, no, I shouldn't. I, um," he stammered, then petered out. 

"No, dude, I shouldn't have asked. It was overly forward and probably rude and⁠—“

“Not at all! Just, I would— would it be possible for, could I⁠—”

“Wait, do you want to do my hair?" I asked. 

He went still, like he was afraid even acknowledging the request would be going too far. 

“Because I would love for you to do that.” 

Boom. Again with the smiles. The man pulled a stool over to the center of the room and fiddled with the lights until it almost approached brightness. Then he gestured at the stool, and I sat down. 

"Apologies — I don't have much to work with," I said.

“Oh but it's lovely," he replied, and proceeded to go on a scouting expedition around my head. He brushed my hair almost reverently, and then ran his fingers through my beard before combing it out. 

I wasn't particularly comfortable with the overly sensual manner in which this stranger was working — especially when he got very close and personal with the beard, which made things awkward because our faces were basically touching — but I could see whatever nerves he'd had about this meeting were unraveling, just like the snags in my hair under the delicate touch of his brush.

"I—" he began, but cut himself off. 

"What was that?” I asked. 

He took a long deep breath. “I am not a fan of speaking about myself," he replied. 

"Does anyone like that?" 

"Too many," quipped Yuri.

I smiled.

The stranger appreciated the joke, and he relaxed a little more. Weirdly, it was like there was an internal dance happening with him. Like every time he calmed down, a warning popped up in his head, telling him not to trust us. He’d loosen up, but then almost immediately snap back to apprehension. 

"If it's okay with you," I said, “can we ask a few questions? About who you are and how you've done what you've managed to do with the venom?” 

He paused mid-brush and stared into the ether, like he was checking his character sheet. I wondered if he had some sort of ability to check another person's motives or speech. Which would be fine. Not like I had ulterior motives — I honestly wanted to know what this dude knew about the venom I had in my system, and about the spiders in the valley. 

"Maybe?” he finally said.

“How about something easy?” I asked. "Like your name?” 

"Johan," he said.

"Nice to meet you, Johan," I replied. "That's Yuri, and I'm Montana." 

Johan glanced over at Yuri, who, I think, was smiling at him. I needed to have a talk with Yuri, try to teach him how to smile without looking so… predatory.

Johan seemed taken aback. 

"Are you from—” I faltered, trying to come up with a softball question. 

"Am I what?” Johan asked. 

"From near here. Like how'd you wind up here with the," I looked to Yuri. 

"The paduans," Yuri said, offering the name of the folk I'd forgotten in the last two seconds. 

I sighed, trying to get myself back in the game.

"Right," I said. “I hope you don’t think it’s too presumptuous to assume you’re not a native born paduan and that you’ve been adopted into this community." 

“No,” Johan replied, half-laughing. "It does feel like I have been pulled into a new family, so perhaps that is a good way to put it. But I come, or I was born in, I am distant from— Let me start again. I was⁠—“

And then he stopped talking, just sorta stared off into the distance.

“Hey man, I promise we're all friends here," I said. "Just take a breath. And then, you know, maybe tell me your story and I'll tell you mine. And in the end, I’ll be excited to have the best looking hair in the whole goddamn village." 

He shook his head a little. But in a way where it was kind of polite, where he was a little excited to talk. "I have not spoken with many outside the paduans for some time, and they are not overly talkative." 

“Tell me about it,” I said. "They do seem rather tightlipped.” 

"I am from quite far away. I was born in the south, but we, some people and I, we came north because of conflict. We ran from the war, for we were not fighters, and⁠—“

“Mahrduhm?” I asked.

He shook his head. "Kronth." 

"Kronth, right.”

“We thought to try Osterstadt, for we had heard of how nice the city was, and how there were economic opportunities. But on our way north, we heard that Kronth had taken Osterstadt somehow. I am unsure how that could happen, but we, or at least the one leading us, chose to believe that story, and so we, or he, heard of another place. We made the change as a group, and we were headed to that place.”

“What was the name of that place?" 

He scratched his head as if he was trying to reach the spot where the name had gotten stuck in there.

"Were you going to Coggeshall?” Yuri asked softly. 

"Yes,” Johan said, looking over at Yuri then back to me. “Coggeshall. But what we were told of that place is not what we found when we got to our destination." 

“You made it there?" I asked.

"Yes.”

“To the place you were told was Coggeshall?” 

"Yes.”

“But you don't think it was actually Coggeshall?” 

“I have no reason to think it was not Coggeshall, but what was there was not what we were told would be there. We were told it was a safe place where we could find land and work and a new life. It was very much not that." 

“Any chance you want to tell me what it was like?”

“I would prefer to forget all I knew from that time there.”

“Is that where you learned about the venom I got, um, venomed by?” I asked.

"Yes."

He stopped working on my hair and walked to the edge of his hut where he fiddled with a few small glass bottles and clay pots, somewhere between looking for something and keeping his hands busy as he ignored me.

"Dude, you don’t,” I started, not used to dealing with the style of avoidance. I was more versed in intimidation to induce conversation, but this? Needing to be nice and caring… “You don't, um..."

"You need not speak of the specifics from your time there,” Yuri jumped in to save me.

Which, while I got, was a bummer. I very much wanted to know the specifics. I was explicitly interested in specifics more than the general because I kind of felt like I knew the general. In hindsight, I did not. At all.

"You are the only soul we have met," Yuri continued, "who has been to that place and emerged alive. If you are willing to talk with us, you could help many others."

He spun to look at Yuri. Johan's eyes were wide, a blend of shock, disbelief, and maybe even terror.

"You intend to go there?" Johan asked.

"We do,” I said

"You must not.'"

“We must.”

“Do not.”

“We don't have a choice—” I started, but Johan was firm.

"You cannot. Whatever you think you could do there, it is impossible. You cannot hope for anything but death. And that would be a blessing, quite honestly.”

"How about you tell us why it's so bad?"

“Will you forget the foolish idea of going to this place?"

"I can always be persuaded," I lied.

Yuri grumbled, something so quiet I wasn’t sure I heard it so much as felt it.

“Do you know what is there?" Johan asked.

"Nope," I said.

At the same time, Yuri started to answer for real.

I glared at him.

He stopped before he said anything.

“We have no idea what's there,” I said, “besides people who need our help. Which is why we need to go.”

"It is bad," Johan replied.

"You know, I have a kind of shit imagination, so maybe you could paint me something of a mental picture instead of just calling it bad."

"A hell."

"Okay, so it's filled with fiends?"

"I would feel safer with the fiends. For all the evil they perpetuate, they keep their word and negotiate in good faith."

“But the things in Coggeshall don't do that?"

"No," he paused and did the looking at his character sheet thing. “It would be easiest to ascribe evil motives to everyone in that valley, but I would like to believe not all are bad. Or evil. But they are unlike us, and we are fools for thinking they might exist with our same social rules.”

"But who are ‘they?’”

"The matriarchs."

“The matriarchs. Okay, bunch of moms?”

“You make jokes of them?”

“Yeah sorry. THat’s kinda a problem of mine — I tend to make jokes of most everything, and no one finds me funny, so, um, anyway. Yeah, don’t take it as meaning anything. I just… they’re moms of some kind?”

Johan stared at me, unblinking, as if he was having trouble processing how little I knew.

"You have never even heard of the matriarchs, yet you still imagine you should go into that valley?"

“How can I imagine anything if no one will tell us anything about them? The first I’ve heard of them is right fucking now.”

“Why are you doing this? Do you seek adventure? Do you thrive on danger?"

"No," Yuri said. "We go in search of loved ones lost."

"You will not find them there,” Johan responded, too quickly. “You will find nothing but misery and death.”

“So it’s a goth paradise?

“What is a goth? Someone who desires nothing more than misery and death?”

“Also wears a fair amount of black and prefers to stay out of the sun.”

“I know little of the weather there, though any who are not of the matriarch’s kin would likely be confined to the caverns, so would not be in the sun.”

“Let me just sort of throw a thought out there,” I said. “Is there a chance that these matriarchs are, maybe, somehow related to spiders?”

Johan paused. He looked from me to Yuri and back. And then his face went blank for a second. He opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but then his mouth snapped shut.

“We know there are spiders there,” I said. “Is that correct?"

Again, he did that thing where it seemed like he looked at his character sheet. And I had to wonder if he that was what he was doing, because it was happening so often. Enough that it seemed more likely he was actually talking to someone. I couldn't think of why he'd be popping into the system so much. Unless, you know, he had something like tremor sense that he was stopping and looking with. Or he had some ability that I just... It reminded me. And I flipped to look at tremor sense just in case. There was nothing out of the ordinary — just shrew folks in their stone huts living their meager lives at the edge of the sky.

"I would ask if you are persons of honor," Johan asked. He surprised me with that particular question, which broke me out of my tremor sense-induced reverie.

"I think so," I said, glancing back at Yuri for confirmation.

"He is," Yuri replied, "as I would believe myself to be.”

“Then I would ask you to swear you will not harm me for what I would tell you. Or what I show you. Or for what I tell you about what I was forced to do whilst in that inferno."

My impulse was to assure the man I wouldn't hold him responsible for shit he did at the metaphorical knife point of another asshole. But could I allow any action to be forgiven? Or at least ignored and forgotten? This Johan seemed so delicate I couldn't imagine him capable of much that would hurt others. Let alone perpetrating some evil harsh enough to warrant such a promise. Or warrant me worrying I might break such a promise and hurt a dude like himself.

But my desire to tell Johan the extent of my thinking was overridden by Yuri, who just went and made the promise. I looked at him. He shot back a stop-fucking-around look, since his family was in danger. Let's hurry up this bullshit, numbnuts. Which I got. He needn't resort to name calling, though.

"Yep," I said. "I promise as well."

Could have been something that happened with the system there. Some sort of God enforced swearing. But I had no idea — even though I’d gained general access to the system and even though my abilities seemed to be working, I still had no notifications. And these sorts of swearings and oaths almost always had something that popped up.

"Although," I said, a thought coming to me, "maybe you ought to promise the same back at us. Because, and I know this is a stretch, but what if you're a spy sent here to lure us there?”

"I promise I will do nothing to harm you or to cause you to move into harm," Johan said, cutting off my totally awesome spy theory.

"Cool," I said, "means we're friends now."

"We are?" Johan asked.

“Does it?" Yuri asked at the same time.

"Why not?" I replied.

Johan took a deep breath, which I thought an odd reaction to my proposal of friendship, and then he opened his mouth and everything went black.

70

"Ihad thought him past this," I heard Yuri say.

"Could very well be a permanent problem," came Johan's reply, his voice close. I forced my eyes open, which took a surprising amount of effort, and saw that I was on the floor with Johan kneeling over me.

"Ah, welcome back," Johan said.

"I passed out,” I said.

"You did," Yuri said, and he sounded worried. "Your lapses concern me."

"Not really something I'm a fan of either," I replied. “But I’m fine. Johan, are you going to tell us about, you know, the valley?"

“He will, but you should listen to his thoughts on what's wrong with you," Yuri said.

"Yeah, it's the venom, right?" I asked.”

“Yes.”

“Is that all you were going to tell me?”

“It would be the result of a bite from one amongst a group known as the daughters, for they are considered the first of those descended of the matriarchs.”

“The daughters come from the matriarchs?” Yuri asked.

“They do,” Johan said. “Though as to which daughter delivered her venom into you, I cannot even guess. There are many different daughters. And it is common they all develop new venoms on the regular.”

“Is the 'they' the matriarchs?" I asked.

"Yes, the matriarchs.”

"And the daughters come from the matriarchs, and they are all spiders?”

“You call them spiders, but that is inaccurate, given what they have become."

“Okay, so explain it.”

“Would you like to sit up again?"

"Yeah no, I think I’m comfortable here on the floor."

That got a smile.

"I will go on then," Johan said, going back on his heels, then sitting with his back against the wall. "I dislike having to tell you this, but I realize you need to know what I am. It clarifies that what I tell you is truth, and why I was privy to what happened in the valley — at least until I escaped. What has happened there in the time since my escape, I cannot tell you."

“I don’t want this to sound mean, but I think we both understand that you don’t know what’s going on somewhere you’re not at. And we’re nice dudes. Ae’re not going to care what you are, only who you are. Like Yuri — he’s an asshole, but I still like him.”

A rock bounced off my head.

“So, Johan,” I said, rubbing my head and ignoring my leonine friend, “what are you?”

Johan got to his feet and slowly turned around. He lifted up his hair to reveal something embedded in his neck. A tick the size of my fist.

"Dude," I said softly, sitting up, "I don't know if you know, but you've got a big fucking tick on⁠—”

“It is Aloysius.”

“Is that a type of tick here?”

“I have not heard of that one,” Yuri said, his voice echoing my own astonishment at the sight of the creature on Johan’s neck.

“He is Aloysius,” Johan repeated, a little firmer.

“Alo-tickish?” I asked, not understanding. “A tick what?"

"His name is Aloysius," Johan said. “He’s not..."

Johan didn’t finish his statement, as if he wasn’t sure how to go about explaining things any clearer than he had. At the same time, I just sat there in utter confusion, opening and closing my mouth with nothing coming out. I don't even think I was breathing.

But Yuri seemed to understand something, because I heard a low growl come from him. I spun to grab him as he tried to pass by, moving real fast in the direction of Johan. Or, more pointedly, towards the tick that wasn’t a tick but something called Aloysius.

Johan glanced over his shoulder and shrieked at Yuri approaching.

“I’m only going to look," Yuri barked, his volume and fierce facial expression making it difficult to believe him.

Johan had already turned all the way around and put his hood up, no longer smiling. He was also doing his best to scuttle into the corner to be as far away as possible from Yuri.

"I swore to you," Yuri said, " that I would not harm you. If that thing is somehow a part of you, I will not harm it, either. I merely sought a closer look to ascertain what it is.”

"He is a part of me," Johan said firmly.

"Then my promise applies to him as well," Yuri said. “I will come no closer, despite my curiosity.”

True to his word, Yuri backed up to the hut’s exit and sat on the floor there.

Johan stared Yuri down, almost daring him to break his word.

"I'm pretty curious about your relationship with Aloysius," I said. “Is he a tick?"

"He is not a tick."

“To be fair, he looks like a tick.”

“He is not.”

“Sure, got that. Not a tick. Um, what's the deal then? With Aloysius, who's not a tick. Is he, I mean, why is he there? Does he, well wait, can he come and talk to us?"

“You are asking many different questions at once. He can not speak with you the way that I speak with you, but he can speak through me. If we are, or, if I am able, if there is more to tell you about the things in the valley, they will come largely from Aloysius."

“He’s from the valley?”

“Yes.”

“So he’s a spider.”

“He is not a spider.”

“An arachnid? Are ticks arachnids?”

“He is not a tick.”

“I didn’t say he was! I was merely asking⁠—”

“Ticks are arachnids,” Yuri said softly.

“Ah. Well, maybe he is a tick then.”

“He is not.”

“Okay, well, moving on. How does he talk to you?"

“Before I say more on him, I must clarify that what is between Aloysius and I seems unique. I have not met another like us, so I cannot say others operate in the same way as we do.”

“Noted. Still⁠—”

“It is difficult for me to… I was never the smartest and sometimes I have trouble putting things into words because I simply lack… is it important to know how he communicates with me?”

"I think that this might be important,” I said, looking back at Yuri to get a sense of how he might vote not he issue.

“I would know all there is to know about our opponents,” Yuri said from the back.

Johan sighed and closed his eyes. I felt like he was having a conversation with the tick on his neck.

“The communication happens mostly… in thoughts. We are able to think with each other, so we are not speaking or--”

“I think I know sort of what you mean,” I interrupted, and he looked almost relieved that I’d butt in. “I have these little kind of weasel buddies, and they can’t talk but they can communicate with me through something kind of like of telepathy. I sense what they mean in my head and it’s not like words but, um, maybe my brain does some sort of translation and I can understand what they mean? Does that make sense?”

“It is something like that, yes.”

“This Aloysius, is he able to read your mind?” Yuri asked.

“And communicate with me.”

“Can he read mine?”

“No, it is not like that. He must, um, there must be a connection.”

“Like you like the same foods and dig the same tunes?”

Johan looked so confused that it bordered on disgusted.

“Is Aloysius physically connected to you in some way?” Yuri asked.

"He is," Johan replied with a nod.

“How does that work?” I asked. “Can he just, like, touch me and⁠—”

“No, it is more involved than that. It would be best for me to explain, perhaps, why we were… bonded?”

“Sure,” I said, trying to be positive and not at all let out the annoyance that this conversation was taking for fucking ever.

"I was in a mining accident. The matriarchs have been aggressive in expanding their… home. Despite my lack of experience mining, I was assigned to a dig team. There was an accident and my back was crushed. I lost the ability to walk, to move. My pleas for help were ignored, and I was left in place to be prepared for the matriarchs. There⁠—“

“Wait," I asked, interrupting him, “what does it mean to be prepared for the matriarchs?”

He frowned.

“To be made ready for the matriarchs to eat,” he said.

“They eat humans?”

“Almost exclusively, yes. But you must know they are creatures of fear more than anything. They want their food weak, but living. At the edge of death so they might feast without concern of their food damaging them."

"Creatures of fear,” Yuri said softly to himself.

I let a second go by in case Yuri wanted to ask something or say something more, but he didn’t seem want to do that, which meant it was time for another Montana original question.

"How many matriarchs are there?"

“I don't know.”

"Okay. Any idea though?””

“I could make an estimate, but…”

“You have no knowledge on what has occurred in that valley since you left,” I finished for him. “How many were there when you left?”

“It is just, I have pointedly remained where I am because they cannot get to me. I have not sought to go back, I have feared even to leave this hut often… They cannot survive here. And I can. And so, I choose to survive here.”

“Got it. Perfectly understandable to hide to survive,” I said, hoping I wasn’t letting my irritation with that particular philosophy come out.

“When I left,” Johan said, “there were twenty matriarchs."

“Wow, okay. And sorry if I'm asking dumb questions — I’m not a very smart person. Would you guess there's more or less now?"

“It would likely be less. Never more, not now. Not soon. If there is not twenty, there will be less. There is tension between them. Each of them yearns for total control, but they lack the strength to overcome all their rivals at once. No new ones will be born while they are like this. Some might be killed. Some might choose to leave. But this is all conjecture. There is also the chance one of the matriarchs was able to overcome the others and now rules alone.”

“But I’m guessing that’s unlikely.”

“Correct.”

“So the matriarchs are in charge of this group of, um, this group that are things that were once spiders but are now not spiders really anymore.”

“They are much more than that now.”

“Right. And the daughters have something to do with venoms or poisons.”

“Yes.”

“So the matriarchs don’t use venoms?”

“It is not quite accurate to say that, for the matriarchs are the strongest of their kind. Which would include their use of venoms. They use all that is available to them as they vie for control. They are beings of great intelligence, charisma. They fight to become the matriarchs. They fight to remain there. It is all a delicate dance of death and violence. As they seek to become more than they are or than they could be."

"And forgive me for using the word, but the matriarchs, daughters, and any other variants whose names I don’t know, they really are like spiders, right?”

Johan glared at me. 

"I mean, like, at their core, you know?” I asked. "Like how we're kind of monkeys or something?"

"Yes. They were once spiders," Johan said harshly. "What they have become though is something else, something from the nightmares of gods.”

"Does Aloysius think that?"

“He does not think he is a spider.”

“Does he, I mean, what does he think about the rest of the, um, not spiders.”

“He is not in favor of the current matriarchs. What they have done to be what they are today is repellent to him. But, I believe he is unique amongst his kind, for the others are envious of the matriarchs and would happily do all they could to gain similar powers. All of them are willing destroy everything that is not explicitly theirs for even the shred of more. They want to control all. They have no remorse for their actions, no empathy for what they have done.”

“These are some evil sounding fuckers.”

“It is hard for me to call them evil, because they do not seek to cause harm⁠—”

“Are you kidding⁠—”

“They have no concern for those that are not themselves, barely for those who are of their kind. They are selfish beings who⁠—”

"You mean they don’t mind killing their fellow spiders?"

"They are not spiders."

"Okay, well, give me another word for them then.”

“I have given you words. Matriarchs, daughters⁠—”

“I get that they're bad," I said, "and they're doing bad things, but where are all the people they have tricked into coming there?" Yuri barked out. 

Johann blinked a few times.

Yuri's outburst flustered the man. 

"I, it is difficult to say," Johann said.”

“Is it because things in the valley change so fast? They might have been moved or⁠—”

"No," Johann took a breath, and it really seemed as if he wasn't going to continue. “I do not wish to tell you.”

“Why?” Yuri asked, still on the verge of yelling.

“Because you will not like what it is I have to say.”

“So the fuck what? We’re not going to hurt you. We know you didn’t do it. But we need to know what we’re getting into.”

“This is assumption, but being that you have told me that you are looking for someone you love that you believe has gone into the Matriarch’s valley… There's nothing I can say which will bring you any joy, and I worry that what I might say could prompt you to violence.” 

"We swore we wouldn't, and I did not swear lightly," I snapped in response. “Nor do I take promises as optional."

I was on the cusp of telling him that if he didn’t start talking, then I’d break my promise and beat the shit out of him, but then he cleared his throat.

"Nearly all those who come to the valley are meant to be consumed," Johan said quickly, the words tumbling out of him. 

"Explain," I said.”

“What is unclear?”

“What do you mean consumed?”

"It would depend. There are many beings in the valley and there are different nutrional requirements⁠—“

“And everyone there eats humans and the human adjacent?”

“No, not all.”

“The matriarchs do, though.”

“Yes. The matriarchs eat the heads of all they can.”

“The heads. Like the whole head?”

“I do not know, nor does Aloysius. I have heard tell that they gain intelligence and other powers through that method though. The bodies of those who have been served to the matriarchs are often processed to provide food for the rest of the, um, colony.”

“Colony.”

“Yes.”

“And that's why they're pretending to be Coggeshall? To get a steady supply of heads?”

“Yes."

“Does it work?” I asked.

“Does what work?”

“The head eating?”

“How would I know?”

“Well, what do they hope will happen?” Yuri asked.

“They believe that is the path that got them from where they were as base spiders to where they are now, the matriarchs. I cannot say for sure if that is truth, if it works, but that is what they believe. Aloysius tells me that this was seen as a temporary plan, though, to only bring in such a population that they may have a herd."

"A herd?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Okay, what does that mean?”

"They mean to use them as livestock,” Yuri said. “Enough that even at the rather slow rate of human breeding, they will have a perpetual food supply."

Johan nodded.

Yuri grumbled.

"All right, let's go back to that first part," I said. "They eat the brains of humans to get more intelligence. Is that what you were saying?"

That got a nod from Johan. 

"And there’s evidence it works,” I asked. 

"I would advise against such a path," Yuri said firmly to me. 

I looked back at him like he was a fucking idiot.

"Don't be a fucking idiot," I snapped. "I know that's a bad idea. I'm not trying to do it for myself. I feel like I'm the perfect level of smart. Dumb enough not to know better. But I also," I rubbed my forehead trying to put off the coming pain steam overflow, "I think we need to get a real hold on what's happening in the valley. If the spider queens are eating only humans or⁠—“

“The matriarchs have preferences,” Johan interrupted to say. “They eat any and all humanoids, anything with intelligence beyond the bestial. They prefer not to eat beasts, though I would imagine if there was no other option, they would.”

“And it's always just their heads?"

“If they could, I would imagine that is all they would eat, but they cannot subsist on the heads alone.”

"Got it," I said, turning back to Yuri, "that makes a big difference in the behavior of these spiders who are no longer spiders, right? If they're defending a preferred food source versus something they feel they need to survive and grow into whatever they want to be."

Yuri nodded. "Yes, I would imagine they will fight much harder for one over the other."

“If they believe their only way forward as a species or whatever is to consume humanoid brains or heads, they’re not going to stop. They’ll fight with everything they have to keep their herd and keep eating brains. And… I mean, it kind of means there’s no way to live next door to them with any… There’s no way to just leave them alone.” I turned back to Johan. “Do all the spiders... Ah, shit, sorry, not spiders, I know. But I just, I need a fucking name for them."

"I cannot offer you one," Johan said.

"But they have to have something they call themselves."

"Yes, but it is in their language.”

“Okay, that's another thing. How do they communicate? Do they, are they telepathic? Like, you know, you and Aloysius seem to share thoughts? But can you speak their language?"

"Aloysius can speak their language. He cannot do it through me. We lack the parts to use what they use to communicate.”

“But they are not telepathic?”

“They are not. This connection between Aloysius and I will disappear should he be removed from my body."

"Does he get nutrients from you?"

"Yes.”

"So he just lives⁠—“

“He and I are one.””

“Got it."

"I would know more of what we might encounter in the valley,” Yuri said. “For example, are there others like Aloysius?”

"Yes," Johan replied, "though I fear few are as willing to share as Aloysius."

“What do you mean by willing to share?” I asked. "Does he control you?"

Johan took a deep breath, then did that thing where he was probably speaking with Aloysius.

"He could if he chose," the man said. "He prefers, though, to cooperate, that we might be more powerful together. But he could completely control me.”

Johan paused, clearly to have another quick conversation in his own head with his spider buddy.

"I have given Aloysius permission to speak directly to you," Johan said, and as he said that, I watched his entire physicality shift. It was incredibly subtle, but being that I was watching him and knew that something was about to happen, I did see it.

71

"Iam Aloysius," said Johan, except the voice was the slightest bit different. The same general tone, but the timbre was different, as if the speaker was unused to speaking.

"Hello," I replied.

"I will explain what I do," Aloysius said, through Johan. "I am able to insert my pedipalps into the spine — or, I know not the correct term, nor does Johan know, but I put them in his back.”

“It looks like you’re on the neck," I said.”

“Yes, but is that not the back, still?”

“I guess.”

“It is merely a better point to access what it is I need to touch, which is more inside. There are other positions one of my siblings could potentially use, but this is the preferred.”

Johan turned again to reveal the spider on his neck.

"May I approach," I asked.

The spider looked at me.

"Yes.”

I stood slowly, but even that caused my head to spin a little and I had to reach over and balance myself on the stone wall.

As I paused, I noticed that Johan was watching me through a mirror at the same time as the spider watched me directly. Its eight eyes were locked on me. As I took a little sidestep just to see what would happen, its head moved enough to track me with all eight eyes. Or would it be ten, because Johan’s eyes also tracked me? Super creepy.

"I have placed my appendages into the neck here," the spider picked one leg up to point to his pedipalps, which were indeed inserted into Johan's neck. "And this allows me access to his systems."

"Systems. Okay, and you control him through his systems?”

"Yes.”

“Total control?”

“Should I wish.”

“But you do not.”

“No. I would be one with Johan that we might be greater together.”

“And I mean, are there, um, lots of you out there?”

“There are many like me. I know not where they are, though, but they have been sent amongst your kind to bring your kind to the matriarchs.”

“Well, fuck.”

“We were tasked as posing as your kind to convince others we are in fact humans. Thus, we could guide others to the valley. We can keep the… the… I do not know the right word to use that will not cause suffering.”

“Cause it.”

“The herd, then. We are tasked to move your kind to the valley to become part of the greater herd. There, some of us remain amongst the herd to keep them under control, to ensure compliance."

"Fuck me.”

Yuri had a similar reaction, but he didn't say anything out loud. He just worked on staring a hole through the stone wall, and I could only imagine some of the thoughts that had to be bouncing through his furry head. His anger, rage, was palpable.

"I don't suppose there's just like,” I said, “I don't know, eight or nine of your kind?"

"We were not the most numerous of the matriarchs' children, but we were not uncommon."

"Well, okay," I struggled to find the line of conversation that I wanted to have with this thing, because there were so many fucking questions I had, and this had already taken for fucking ever.

“Do you have other questions of me?” He asked, picking up on what I was thinking.

“What's Johan doing right now?" I finally asked.

“He listens.”

“The others, I mean, are you allowing him to do that?”

“What the others of my kind do with their Johans..." He drifted off somewhere between thinking and maybe being afraid to say.

"I mean, what happens, and I'm not even contemplating doing this for you, it is merely curiosity and a hypothetical to have the knowledge, but what happens if you're removed?”

“If I were to leave voluntarily, Johan would return to his natural state.”

“Paralyzed.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, but if he wasn't paralyzed, if he was otherwise healthy⁠—”

“He would remain as such, at least as much as I wished him to be upon my departure.”

“You control his health?"

"In a sense, yes. I could exert total control to where the body is destroyed wholly. Dead. Where I am still alive to find a new puppet… which is not the right word because they are not toys to us or for show, but instead, perhaps…”

“It’s almost like you're a mech pilot and that's your meat mech.”

“A meat mech?” he asked, clearly confused. “Neither Johan or I know of this ‘meat mech’.”

“Let's just forget it," I said. “It made sense in my head. Why did you leave?”

“The valley?”

“Sure, or the matriarchs.”

"I did not like it when I was being told what to do. I did not want to hurt others. I was punished for my refusals by being assigned to Johan, to wait with him and monitor him until he was ready to go to a matriarch. It was thought Johan would remain unable to move, that I would be forced to remain in the mines as Johan starved, until it was time for him to be eaten. While there, we communicated, and I began to realize who he was, and he helped me find who I was, and I found I did not wish to remain amongst my kind. I had not known fully why I did not like doing what was ordered of me until we spoke at length. Then I understood more. That my kind were being forced into evil. Johan may wish to say that they are just different, but I will say my kind here are beings of darkness. Through experiments, we discovered I could bridge the damages that prevented Johan’s body from moving, and we escaped. But I do not want to be in control. I do not like this. I am just a small creature, and I return you to Johan."

Johan let his hair cover the spider up again, and he turned around.

There was that physicality shift, and the eyes of the human in front of me seem to relax a smidge.

Johan smiled.

"You heard that," I asked.

Johan nodded. "We operate as a team. I share all with him, and he shares all with me.

“Seems unique to you two," I said.

"It is. As I understand, they have a society built upon hierarchies, and I do not believe they are often able to understand the concept of equals. Or partners. There must always be a superior and inferior.”

I started to ask a question, wanting to know more of the specifics, but then I felt like a soft shift of air pressure, like someone pulled aside the leather wind block.

On instinct, I flipped into tremor sense and caught two beings at the door. I gestured to Yuri as I turned, pulling a smaller hand axe from my bag.

Yuri's stepped to put his back against the wall so when the door opened it would block him from view. He had a dagger out, ready for stabbing.

The door opened and I put myself between the newcomers and Johan, ready to fight.

Adrenaline pumped into my veins, which then amped up the pain train, and I knew I was about to pass the fuck out. I clenched onto That’s Not Pain as I began to feel dizzy.

Two paduans stepped into the hut. One was a younger one I’d never met, the other was Minola.

"Ah, you are here," Minola said. "There comes a stranger and we would hope you might aid in our defense."

"Sure," I said, slipping the hand axe into my belt.

"You care not who it is?"

"I mean, you don’t know, do you? That’s what stranger means.”

“Yes, but do you not ask what might come upon us before you agree to fight?”

“You ask me for help, I'll give it. Besides, you didn't ask about me before helping me."

"As is our way. But you are not us."

“True, but let's have this talk later. Now, Yuri, you want to stay here and keep chatting with Johan or go and maybe spill some blood?”

Yuri stepped out from behind the door and Minola stifled a little shriek while the youngster jumped right into the wall, I think trying to get away.

"I am with you," Yuri said.

"All right. Show us where we can set up an ambush."

72

The weather had not calmed down at all. In fact, it seemed like the wind had gone up a notch. There wasn’t much in the way of precipitation coming down, but the wind was whipping loose snow around, and it bit at my face intensely. 

A number of paduans were busy working to camouflage their small huts, while others were packing things in large leather sacks into one of the larger, centrally located buildings. 

"We do not know best where you might set yourselves," yelled the elder, "but the invaders come from that direction." He pointed to the south, which hinted that these weren't spider puppets, probably. 

Whatever was on the way, though, it had stirred up the paduans, at least as much as I'd seen them. They weren't gearing up to fight so much as hide most effectively, while, I guess, letting Yuri and I handle any potential violence. I got it — they weren't into conflict. I could kind of respect that, even if it seemed borderline irresponsible in this world. 

Yuri grabbed my shoulder so I'd look at him. He gestured to the area, and I seemed to think that he was asking me what I was thinking. I glanced around. There really wasn't much strategy possible in this situation, but it is not like there was much in the way of terrain. 

The village was in somewhat of a flat spot on the high side of the mountain, most of the way up towards the peak. Midsummer, and it still had a decent covering of snow, letting the paduans hide their buildings amongst snow-covered boulders.

It was while looking at the potential hiding spots I realized they probably also sourced all their building materials from the rock field below us. But that camouflage worked against us as well, because any good spot to post up with a view of those coming would leave us wholly exposed. If we took a more concealed position, we'd be blind. Not that we could see much through the driving winds and blowing snow. 

I pointed to myself, and then to the center of the village. Then I pointed to Yuri, and tried to indicate he should be somewhat hidden between two boulders. Or maybe they were buildings. It was hard to tell. Effective camouflage, I suppose. Or I was shit at noticing things. Either was totally possible. 

He shook his head and took a heavy spear off of his back and planted the weapon at his feet. I rolled my eyes at him, but appreciated that he was coming to stand with me, even if I didn't agree from a tactical standpoint. 

I pulled out a much larger bearded battleaxe, nearly as tall as me, from the bag. It wouldn't be the best at fighting in this sort of situation, but the visual was top-notch. I figured we could strike an imposing scene, and maybe that could prevent a fight. Yuri and I were pretty good at looking scary. 

That said, I would fight, and I hoped I could fight, because I didn't know how long I could continue to hold standing tall against the oncoming pain. But it was a question that would be answered in short order, as I saw something big and furry bounding through the snow, heading straight for us. 

"Game on," I whispered, and switched my grip on the axe, ready for beheady.

73

As I readied myself for battle, something tickled the back of my mind. A mentally fuzzy thing, but it somehow felt… familiar? Like it was trying to use a channel that had already been created to connect with me. I tried to let it in, to open myself up to communication. 

There was some emotion and thought coming in, but I couldn’t quite decipher it. Whomever was broadcasting it expected me to understand.

It was excited? Maybe? Excited to fight, or to find food or... God, it was really fucking weird trying to parse this shit out. But then there was another feeling, like the second phrase in a conversation. It felt like ‘found you.’

Something was excited because it found me. 

But then a clearer communication came in, as if the thing in my head firmly said, found you.

And the furry thing leapt at me.

Yuri's spear was moving, a blur, aimed to intercept the oncoming attack.

I grabbed the spear's shaft, stopping Yuri’s lunge dead.

And the furry thing crashed into me, trying to wrap itself around my face.

Eight legs propelled the sinuous body round and round. 

It licked me.

"Super weasel?" I asked. 

The creature paused its affection attack and looked me in the eyes.

Yes, it said in my head.

Not quite that clear, but that's what it would have said had we been capable of clear speech between each other.

I found you!

It pushed off me and ran around in circles, like it had the zoomies.

Then it went sprinting back the way it came. 

Something pulled at my hand.

I still had hold of Yuri's spear. He raised an eyebrow at me.

I let go.

He reset himself, ready to fend off attacks.

Attacks I wasn't exactly sure were coming anymore, because I had to think that these strangers were most likely our allies coming to find me. 

"I think it's our people coming," I shouted. 

Yuri nodded, but I didn't notice him standing down at all. He was itching for a fight — probably would’ve loved a little violence to let off steam.

I tried to look more relaxed, but with Yuri next to me, amped up and ready to rock, I didn’t think anyone would buy it.

A figure tromped into view, leaning against the blizzard. Someone well bundled in furs and what looked like the full complement of super weasels. The weasels bounded through the snow all around the lone figure, pushing said lone figure to go faster.

I had to remind myself to relax the grip on my axe, that this shouldn’t be a fight.

And yet, at the same time as I watched the coming figure go from mystery person to someone I recognized, I thought back to Johan, or really, to Aloysius. 

Was this actually Amber coming, or was this a weird brain spider piloting the kitsune girl-shaped meat mech? Amber stopped a few feet from me. She unwrapped the covering over her face and smiled a broad, genuine smile. Her round cheeks were a special kind of red from the blend of wind, temperature, and emotion. 

She waved and said something.

I waved back, then pointed to my ears, indicating I hadn’t heard her.

She yelled something, but even that got swallowed up by the wind. The super weasels swarmed me, and I did my best to shower them with affection equally.

Quickly, though, they bored of me and were zooming around investigating things. I caught snippets of their thoughts as they spoke to each other.

Look.

Here.

Found him.

Smells?

Food?

Here!

Ten seconds, and they were already digging out the doors of the paduan homes, making me think that the people were not as hidden as I thought. 

Stop digging, I told the superweasels.

They stopped.

I got close to Amber and yelled, "Is there anyone else with you?" 

Amber shook her head, then leaned into my ear. "Just me and those five. Tarryn is with Wian. Need to talk." 

"This way," I said, and headed back toward Johan's hut.

74

Johan was not alone, and I don't mean because of Aloysius. Petruchio was also there, sitting next to the human.

The two stared right at me, eyes wide as I pushed through the door.

There was a noticeable measure of relaxation when they realized it was just me. 

"The invaders?" Johan started. 

“Not invaders,” I started, but before I could finish, the invaders invaded.

The super weasels shoved around me to get inside.

They spread out, ready to investigate the house, but I sent an immediate command to them.

Be respectful. Do not harm either occupant, and just— you know what? Stand next to me and wait. 

The weasels did as I requested, forming up in a neat line next to me. There was a little shoving as they tried to organize themselves in whatever hierarchy they had going, but other than that, they were perfect little gentle weasels.

“Fuck," I said.

Honestly, I was a little surprised it worked. I almost said that I should have been a lion tamer, but I stopped myself right as Yuri walked in. I’d shoved my foot into my mouth enough times to get a nasty case of athlete’s tongue.

Amber stepped in and closed the door. The noise level immediately dropped. I waited to see her reaction to this unknown group of people who lived in what were supposedly my mountains.

She just frowned.

"Should have known you'd find him," she said, talking directly to Petruchio. 

"You know him?" I asked Amber about Petruchio, almost exactly as Petruchio asked Amber the same thing about me.

We had the classic moment of then staring at each other. 

Amber, for her part in our farce, paused. Unsure how she should proceed, I guessed that she was wondering if I still wanted to pretend to be travelers. But being that Petruchio seemed to know her, kinda was dumb to keep up the ruse.

"You might as well tell him," I said. 

"That's the Duke," Amber said, pointing to me. 

Johan's eyes looked like they might explode out of his head.

“That is the duke?' Petruchio asked, incredulous. “Which duke?”

“The one who rules over here.” I said. “Or, you know, technically rules here.” 

"But, but, but, but,” Petruchio stammered. 

“I’d like to know how you know him?” I asked Amber. 

"'He is a monster!' Johann sputtered.

“Petruchio?” I asked. “He seems harmless.”

“YOU!”

Silence blanketed the little hut.

I waited a moment to let things settle, thinking Aloysius might say something more. Or that Johan would keep talking.

Nope. He had flattened himself against the wall opposite me and looked, well, not ready to fight, but definitely ready to flee. 

“I would imagine there's a difference in perspective amongst the residents of that valley as it comes to myself,” I said. “We didn’t have the best interactions during my last visit. Though to be fair, I wasn’t the one wading amongst them, manipulating their desires and munching on heads. Do they have heads? Spiders have heads, right?”

“I might argue they have a face on a cephalothorax,” Amber said.

“Okay, well, I’m not eating those. And given what you told me they’re up to, I find it hard for me to be the ‘monster’ here, fuck-o.”

Johan's eyes glazed over. He was having a conversation with Aloysius.

Petruchio looked from me to Amber to Yuri and then back to me.

"'You didn't answer my question,” I said to Amber, “You knew these people were up here?”

"'Of course,” she replied.

“And you didn’t⁠—”

“I did put a report in about them.”

“What? Does everyone in Coggeshall write reports that I never see?”

She shrugged.

“No idea,” She said. “I met some of the other paduans in the spring. I was looking for passes between Glaton and the north country, like Wian had asked. I came upon Petruchio running from⁠—”

“Abominaballs,” Petruchio said.

“That’s right. He stumbled into a den of juveniles, and I helped him out. But he ran away without really talking to me. I had Fritz fly around up here and I saw the village. I came and had tea with Vincentio and Petruchio, introduced myself and you, or I guess, the concept of you, and we mostly left it at that.” 

"'I thought the Duke was a great warrior,” Petruchio said. I frowned at the shrew man. He didn't seem to notice. "'This man seems weak. He is⁠—“

"'He should not be alive,” Johan blurted out.

I waved.

“Still here,” I said.

“That he lives… the matriarchs are perhaps justified in their fear of him,” Johan said.

"'Everyone just shut up,” I said, substantially more forcefully than I meant to, but my annoyance had boiled over. Johan’s fear of me was way over the top, and I didn’t understand it.

“I don't want to hear anything more about me,” I continued, “because who I am isn’t pertinent at the moment. We need to know everything we can about the matriarchs if we have any hope of saving the people they kidnapped. Who is there, what they do, and where the humans are, the herd. Where are those poor fucks kept? How are they kept? I want to know numbers, both of the herd and the guards. How many herds are there? What kind of guards are we going to come up against? Are there any traitors amongst them? That’s the fucking conversation to have. It's not important if I am the great warrior that you’ve been told about, because it doesn't fucking matter, okay? We need to know about guards. We need to know about herds. We need to know about puppets. That’s it.”

"'There are many questions there,” Johan said. “You must let me think a moment. Perhaps we might have a bit of tea?”

“Sure,” I said, sitting down and leaning against the wall so I could finally let the pain steam release.

I didn’t think I’d passed out, but the next thing I knew, I had a small cup of tea in my hand.

I took a sip.

It was hot. Tasted like shit.

“Most everything is contained within the caverns,” Johan said. “That is where the matriarchs have their homes, where the daughters are⁠—”

“That’s where the spiders who aren’t spiders live.”

“Yes,” Johan said, frowning at me. “The herd will be there as well, but separated from the matriarchs in case there is a rebellion. The caverns change often, as the matriarchs are keen to improve everything. You ask if there are traitors, and I cannot say for sure. Some of the herd are tasked to work on occasion, but it is in service of the matriarchs and in a capacity wherein none of the colony can do that work. But even if a member of the herd were to become particularly valued by one matriarch, they will not remain alive for long. There is always another matriarch who views the first matriarch as a rival, and they will kill the human to weaken her rival. Invariably, it is death. Death is all that you will find there.'"

"All right, so the herds. They’re⁠—“

“I was not with the herd for long,. I only spent a single night with those I traveled with before I was taken to dig. And then only had the one day of digging before the accident.”

“What about Aloysius?”

“He had nothing to do with the herd. He was⁠—”

“Recalcitrant,” Yuri said.

“Gesundheit,” I said.

“Still in training,” Johan said.

“Training? For what?”

“Acting as one of your kind.”

“But someone minds the herds, right?”

“Of course. There are many minders for the herds. They are quite large and there are always issues with them.”

“Okay, so who are the minders?”

“There are multitudes, each designed to excel at their assigned task.”

“Designed? By the matriarchs?”

“Exactly. There are those who pacify the herd, and are those who move the herd. Those who cull the herd, and those who process it. Some guard the entrances and others guard the inside of the colony. Still others patrol the caverns and others patrol the valley. The matriarchs design each of them, competing with the other matriarchs to make the best designs, to make the most useful children.”

“Like the daughters?”

“Yes.”

“And you mentioned something about hierarchies, right? Where in the hierarchy are the herders? Low?"

"They're low, yes.”

“If it's matriarchs at the top, who’s right beneath them?”

“It is not quite as clear as that. Many daughters are viewed as very powerful.”

“Can a daughter become a matriarch?”

“It is possible, yes.”

“What about a herder?”

Johan shrugged, then shook his head, and then paused. It seemed like he was having an argument with Aloysius.

"Were you pursued when you left?" Yuri asked.

"Yes," Johan answered. “We thought we were clever in leaving at night, but we were tracked and barely made our escape."

“How is this safe?" Amber asked. "How come they aren't up here?"

Johan paused and he did the thing where he was speaking with Aloysius, or at least that's what my assumption was. I glanced back at Yuri, then at Amber.

I was getting worried about Yuri. He looked fit to burst with frustration and rage. I got that. I'd been unconscious a lot, and it still felt like we'd spent a lifetime with the paduans. And this fucking conversation with Johan took a goddamn epoch.

"Aloysius is unsure," Johan finally said, "but believes it has to do with the air and the temperature.”

“Are they cold-blooded?” I asked.

“I believe so.”

“Okay, how many varieties are there?”

“Of blood?”

“Of fucking spiders. Which aren't fucking spiders, I know, but come on."

“Many, and likely more since I left. The matriarchs are eager to breed and engineer more and more. Life cycles are short enough that the matriarchs are able to correct mistakes and find happy accidents."

"Fucking happy little spiders. Is there a military of sorts?"

"There are few who do not fight, at least to some capacity. The daughters often do not directly engage, save what happened with you, wherein they find a means to deliver venom."

"Okay, so they just sit around coming up with poisons and shit all day?"

"They are tasked to provide alchemical solutions to problems."

"So they make potions?"

"Not as you would think, for they do it within themselves. But yes."

"What kind of potions do they make?"

"All that you could imagine, and some you could not."

“How wonderfully and pointlessly vague.”

"Healing potions?" Amber asked.

"Yes.”

“What else?” I asked.

“Among others, they make fluids to enhance the strength of the cavern walls.”

“Like construction potions?"

"Yes."

"How the fuck do they do that?"

“I know nothing of the fluid itself, but I have seen it used. It’s a thick liquid that can be spread with a stick, and will harden to be like rock."

I was very tempted to ask more about the daughters and their various fluids, which, I understand, sounds really bad without appropriate context. Instead, I pressed on.

"So we got the matriarchs and their daughters, and we got the matriarchs' other children,” I said. “Are they all family-based names?"

"Stop caring about the fucking names," Yuri barked at me. "And you, what are we going to come up against? Tell us of what we will fight, not about construction fluids. Focus on what we need to know."

"How should I know what it is you need?" Johan shot back.

"You," Yuri shouted, starting at a ten and moving to eleven by the second word that did not quite come out of his mouth by the time I’d grabbed him and moved him to the door.

"Amber, why don't you find out what you can," I said before pushing Yuri outside. "I think we need to go get some air.”

“Of course, your grace,” she said.

“We’re going to get get moving soon, so let's do this on the quick."

She gave me a nod and then smiled at Johan.

75

"You need to check yourself here," I said to Yuri. "You’re getting out of..."

"The man is a fool," Yuri snapped at me, yelling right up in my face to make himself heard over the wind, and also maybe because his pot of rage boiled over.

I pulled him along into the sheltered side of one of the homes where there was enough of a windbreak that we could talk.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“He tells us nothing and speaks in circles,” Yuri replied.

“You think that’s on purpose? That he’s stalling us?"

“Yes. Maybe he still harbors positive feelings for those accursed spiders, and fuck you if you say anything about how they are more than spiders. Or he is so afraid that he must do what he can to keep us from suffering a fate he believes we will meet, or he thinks that there is a chance these spiders will destroy us and then follow our trail to where he is hidden to destroy him.”

“So either he’s a spider sympathizer, or he’s a caring idiot, or he’s what, a giant fucking coward?"

“Or a combination thereof. Could be that spider on his neck falls into the first category, while the man himself is in the second and the third at the same time. I find it hard to believe a creature could forego his own kind so fully, and before you bring up my de facto defection from the country of my birth to this Empire, it is not the same."

"I wasn't even going to say that."

He paced back and forth.

"Maybe I'm paranoid,” I said, “but if the Matriarchs are so sneaky and so afraid of me, wouldn't this be a great place to stash a fail-safe spy sort of a thing? To catch me and direct me right into a trap?”

“You think them capable of such complexity?” Yuri asked, stopping and looking at me.

“That's the problem, man — I don't fucking know. I mean, it's not like this fake Coggeshall shit is some simple orchestration. The whole thing is so extra that I barely understand how it works. With all the bullshit that could go wrong in so many fucking ways, and those eight-legged fucks are pulling it off. I don’t think we are going to get anything else from our buddy Johan, nor his tick Aloysius. We need to go into the valley, and we need to fuck their shit up.”

“Despite knowing little of what we will face?”

“Trust me when I say I know enough, Yuri. We need to find your family before something actually happens to them."

He nodded, gritting his teeth at me, almost like the mere mention of his family's endangerment was too much for him to hear out loud. I grabbed his shoulder, trying to offer him a measure of support, but just Petruchio came around the corner, his eyes wide, looking afraid.

"Everything okay?" I asked, shouted at him. He winced, maybe at the yelling, maybe at the cold, maybe at the wind. To be honest, I didn't care.

He nodded.

"I do not like to hear what is there," he said. "It terrifies me. You would do well to hear it, so you might realize that only death awaits you."

"I'd love to hear it," I replied, "but I'm afraid I don't have time to listen to my death sentence when I could really just go looking for it myself. Man of action and all that. If you were keen on helping me out, we could use a guide to the valley."

Petruchio's face fell.

"You know, take us to a safe place where we could insert ourselves, skipping the pass or a path or anything that would seem too watched. I figure a man as such as yourself has got to know some secret hidey holes."

"Going is foolish," Petruchio barked.

“Maybe we are going, and we are fools. I am for sure, but I don’t want to label anyone, but if they’re following me, and I’m a fool, doesn’t that mean they’re kind of fools too?”

The shrew stared at me, then at Yuri.

Then he trudged off into the storm, as if it were better to be buffeted about by the intense winds than deal with my inanities.

"Making friends, I see," Amber said, exiting the hut with the five super weasels on her heels.

The weasels seemed poised to chase Petruchio down, but I sent the mental command for them to hold back.

"Is there somewhere we could speak?” Amber ask-yelled. "I'd prefer not blowing my throat out just to tell you what Johan said.”

Yuri nodded, walking towards our guest hut.

76

Inside, where it was quiet, the super weasels sprinted around in full zoomy mode while the three of us sat down, our backs against a heated spot on on wall.

Amber looked at me, a frown on her beautiful face, clearly worried.

"If half of what I learned is true," she started, "going to this valley is a fool's errand."

“This is all my fault,” I started, “I should’ve dealt with everything in the valley the first time. But it’s not like⁠—”

"I get that it is what we must do,” Amber said, a hand up to forestall me. “It’s just that the man dropped a ton of information on me, and I am doing my best think through what is most useful.”

Yuri nodded, and began packing our things.

After a moment, he stopped, and looked over at Amber, as if he’d decided she’d had enough time.

“What will we face?” Yuri asked, though it didn’t at all come off as a polite request so much as an order to report.

“Many things, Yuri,” Amber replied, equally impolite. “I think it would be best to get our military into the valley. We are not likely to find success with just us.”

“And how might you contact them?”

“We would need to go back to Coggeshall, and–”

“That would take too long. We would need to go back down south and around, otherwise, the valley in question is in the way.”

“That is not true — I came here without going all the way south and⁠—”

“How long did it take you to get here? And how long would it take you to return to Coggeshall and marshal the military, and⁠—”

"Dude," I snapped, "let her talk."

Yuri swung his head around to glare at me, and unleashed the growl that had been building in his throat.

That seemed to shock even him. Everything in the hut went still for a moment.

Yuri grit his teeth, then spat out, "We are wasting our time. Time we do not have. It is not important what we think to face when we know we must face it. We should go now! If there is something of utmost importance, tell me now.”

Amber crossed her arms and sat there in protest.

“I see,” Yuri said.

Then he hauled his bag over his shoulder and left the hut. Cold air swirled in behind him, but he did manage to shut the door despite his rage.

"The fuck is going on with him?” I asked myself, my mind spinning to match the current behavior of Yuri to the friend I thought I knew. It had to be concern over his family, right? Just, he'd always been so even keel before. And maybe because I'd never seen him with his family, I didn't understand how much they meant to him.

"Do we go after him?" Amber asked, suddenly by my side.

"No, he probably needs space."

"Unless he's going to just head down the mountain to the valley right now."

"You think he'd do that?"

"I don't know. I also don't know that the three of us can do this."

"What about the eight of us?"

"Eight?"

"Superweasels?"

“Oh come now, they are young. Very young. And do not know how to fight."

The superweasels seemed to intuit they were being discussed, and circled Amber, looking at her.

"They disagree," I said.

"Of course they would — they are young and overconfident."

I looked at the weasel faces, their muscled bodies, way more legs than seemed necessary, and I wondered how they'd fare against spiders. Big spiders. I tried to dig into my brain to see if I could remember anything from the old world where weasels and spiders faced off, but that didn't seem to be in the tiny portion of my brain I'd actually used back then. I had to imagine they wouldn't have the skills or fortitude to deal with the various venoms we'd be up against. Hell, I didn't know of anyone who could, being that I was have trouble. But I also knew it'd be a bad idea to lose the God of Monsters' babies in a suicide charge against a group of overblown arachnids.

"Okay, so we need to get them out of the way of things," I said. “Can they stay here?"

"This is not exactly a safe place," she replied. "I think we all go back to Coggeshall, rally the troops, and go to the valley then."

"When Yuri's family is nothing more than husks and spider poop?"

"We don't known that's what will happen. And honestly we don’t know if it already has happened. But I feel certain he's going to get himself killed going right now."

"Seems to be an either himself or his family though."

"That implies those are the only two outcomes, that his dying saves his family. His dying means his family is less likely to survive."

"Unless we can save them."

"Which we can't."

"Not with that attitude."

"Montana."

"I can say your name with force behind it as well. I just choose the high road. Now," I said smiling her glare down, "what are we likely to face?"

She let out a long sigh.

"Many things. They have patrols that go around the valley, groups of five to ten Stranglers--"

"Stranglers?"

"I have named them based on the nonsense Johan told me, because he refused to give them names and kept trying to describe them to me."

"Ah. So you named them?"

"Yes, and I tried to sort them into tiers."

"How long were you talking to him?"

"Longer than I enjoyed. There is something... Unpleasant happening with him."

"He's a little strange."

For a second, I thought she was about to launch into a rant about the man. Or maybe go into a long discussion about why Johan might be the way he was... 

Instead, she said: "I would categorize the matriarchs as one."

"So one is best in this."

"Yes. Top tier. The 'daughters' are more of a two or even a three. I think there is a fair amount of variability there as well, because it seems like some of them are just, um, crafters? As in, they just sit around brewing their potions and don't really do much else. They are fed by, um," she paused thinking, "by Sibilicates, which are smaller, almost drones that do a lot of the work."

"So they're a four?"

"Ten? It's, I mean, I'm going off Johan and Aloysius. So--"

"Grain of salt this?"

"Shaker of salt. But I don't know that we need to worry about the siblicates. I imagine if we encounter them they'll just run to bring back their bigger siblings."

"The stranglers."

"I believe they are primarily outside, patrol units almost exclusively. And I doubt they're particularly dangerous one on one, only in groups."

"Which is weird because aren't spiders mostly solitary--"

"Don't think of them as spiders. That's--"

"But they are--"

"They come from spiders, but they are vastly different. And thinking that they are merely large spiders, is going to trip you up. Now, these things, the stranglers, they hunt together and work together. Johan called them 'of medium size.’ I would say they are a six in my working hierarchy. Inside the main cave system, we would be up against.... A lot."

"You keep saying that, and then⁠—“

"Because I keep getting overwhelmed, Montana of Coggeshall."

"Well, Amber of Coggeshall, let's just take it one thing at a time."

She rolled her eyes at that, but then launched back into her descriptions. There were the Fangcents, who were the heavy infantry. Very large, not very smart, good at following a single order at a time. They had shearing claws that could cut through armor and exoskeletons with ease. The Mawbrood were the executioners, butchers, and harvesters. Mawbroods were massive, hulking things that could drag humans, horses, most anything, around. Two sets of fangs, one which could be used to slice and dice, one which pumped victims with various venoms. Mawbroods were a tier three. Fangcents were a four.

We would also need to contend with the Whisperfangs, who were smaller spiders-who-weren't-spiders that operated almost like snipers. Lurking in the shadows and backstabbing anyone their matriarch wished, which could just as easily be other spiders. 

"Do you think we could turn the matriarchs against each other?" I asked.

"Yes? Maybe? I don't know. I'm tempted to say yes because I don't think they are overly complicated when it comes to interpersonal relationships. They're a young society and we could probably take advantage of that. But they're also very... What, supremacist? I don't know that any matriarch would listen to one of us meaningfully. I think we are just food to them."

"Johan seemed to think they valued some humans."

"Maybe. But we're getting almost all our information about this whole group from one biased source.

"Yeah, not the best."

"Outside, we won't actually see any guards beyond the patrols. Any guard unit posted outside is hidden, ready to ambush someone. But if we find an ambush, that means we’re close to something worth guarding. Probably. And these are Mantlegraves. They can liquify stone with their saliva, and use that to both dig and build."

"Like an organic sort of cement?"

"Yes? They also serve as diggers and miners, making tunnels and chambers. They line all their tunnels with silk, and can leave spots sticky to trap anyone who comes along. And if we get stuck, we're waiting for the Gloamgnashers. They function as the cleanup crew, with hooks on their legs that can cut most anything into transportable pieces. They work in groups of six-ish, and are skittish. They kill, but they don't fight. Much."

"Lowest tier?"

"Maybe? Tied with the siblicates, I think. Although maybe compete with the siblicates is better."

"Is that all?"

"Nope. That's where I stopped Johan because I was overwhelmed and thought it might be better if I tried to convince you and Yuri to not go down there."

"Which I understand, but we have— let's not get into it again."

"But what do we do? Just go down and hope we survive?"

I scratched at my beard, trying to stimulate my brain into working when it very much didn't want to do so. 

"We need to get these furry friends somewhere safe," I said. “They're okay at throwing down against more normal opponents?"

"Against random beasts? Moreso. I’d trust them to travel through the valley as long as they had someone to tell them where to go.”

"And it'd be great to get our military in place."

"I don't see any real way to handle this situation without them."

"Okay, so what if you and the weasels go and raise the flag and then bring in the cavalry."

“We have cavalry? Getting horses up here--"

"I didn't quite mean it like that. It's a phrase, you know. Let's just not use that one and maybe just bring all the soldiers we have to clean out this valley of horrors."

“I’m not sure that’s the right plan either, because I have to go with you."

"Why?"

"Because."

"That's not a why."

"Because you're not at full health and Yuri is losing his mind. Someone needs to be there to moderate the two of you."

"Even though this is kind of likely a one-way trip?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm flattered you'd come with me to this hell, but I might need to order you not to do that."

"I will disobey that order."

"Isn't that treason?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

"Um, nope."

I didn't like having Amber come along — I felt like I would to spend more time protecting her than I was fighting. Although, she was pretty tough. Good with the bow. It might be useful to have some ranged damage at our beck and call. And she was smart, good at tracking and finding paths through nasty places. That could be very useful getting to and through the valley. Once in the caves, probably less so.

"What if we get the paduans to do it for us?" I asked.

"You need to be a little more clear with what you mean by it, because I don't think they'll do anything that puts them at all closer to the valley or anywhere the spiders are."

"Not that. We ask them to send someone down to Coggeshall to let Skeld know what's happening, and that he needs to bring the thunder down on this place. Or or on that place. The valley with the spiders."

"I got that. And the superweasels?"

"Send them as escorts. They can handle most anything they come up against, right?"

She frowned, but eventually gave me a slight nod, and I got the feeling she was finally on board with my plan.

77

Istood in the cold, letting the wind blow through my hair while I watched Amber confer with the village elders. She'd tried to push the job onto me, but I pushed back, pointing out while I understood that as the duke, it should be me, she had significantly better interpersonal skills and her doing the talking had a much higher chance of success. As Yuri had been pointing out, we weren't flush with time, and I didn't have the luxury of fucking up and doing some grand gesture to regain their trust before we could get them to go and do what we needed done.

Based on the facial expressions, I presumed she was in the midst of telling the paduan elders about what actually existed in the valley, and how we, Coggeshall, could pull a Delbert McClintock on the spiders and make sure those eight legged fucks didn't infest no more.

Yuri, next to me, kept looking in the direction of the valley, then at the paduans, and then over at the impending storm. There had been a break in the weather, somewhat, so it wasn't horrible outside at the moment. I could even see a few spots of dark blue sky above, but it was very clear that bad things were on the horizon. Huge black clouds, lightning already whipping between said black clouds, and the blurry haze indicative of a deluge. 

It looked as if the elder shrews were not enthusiastic to what had been offered to them. I worried they wouldn’t want to get involved. But kitsune girls have extra powers of persuasion, and I noticed that some of the younger shrews in the village had joined the conversation, pestering their elders about lending hands. Which, I mean, I got, because I couldn't imagine living long-term in this village. Spending your life up beyond the tree line, beyond the snow line, enduring perpetual wind and storms and hoping beyond hope they could harvest just enough lichen to feed their herd of marmots, but not take so much that they ruined the next potential harvest.

Yuri seemed to have hit a boiling point, and he started toward Amber.

I put a hand on his shoulder.

He glared at me.

I smiled at him.

He took a step back, rolled his shoulders, clenched his fists, did all those little things where he was both relaxing himself and, hopefully inadvertently, amping himself back up.

Amber fairly bounced over to us, all smiles.

"Success?" I asked.

"All we asked for," she replied.

"I feel there's a but."

"Always," Yuri grumbled.

"I did maybe tell them that they could join us in Coggeshall proper. Is that⁠—“

"That's fine. That's better. For everyone involved, I think. But, um, won't that take time to--"

"They're sending someone with the weasels now. They will start packing up to move shortly. I think hoping to wait until the valley is cleared. Or at least no longer a danger."

"Excellent," Yuri said, "then we can go."

"Let's do this,” I said.

Yuri was already moving.

"Petruchio," Amber called out. "We're leaving."

"Why are you saying goodbye to him?"

"I'm not. He's coming with us."

The tiny paduan in his hair-dryer shaped coat walked toward Amber, then past me.

"I will guide you to the best point of entry into the valley," he told the kitsune girl. "But I will not go in."

"We wouldn’t dream of asking," Amber said.

She smiled at him, and we were off to explain to the weasels what they were going to do. Hopefully, they’d manage to escort the little shrew folk to Coggeshall without eating their charge…

78

Petruchio had wanted to bring us to the valley along the same route the spiders’ victims took, going through the pass. But we disabused him of that notion, pointing out that it was way too likely we'd be noticed and run into some unwanted interactions with the locals. I think he still wasn’t clear what was going on, that maybe we were looking to join the spiders or something, even though we’d made it clear we were going to kill the fucking spiders and save the dumbasses who’d gotten caught.

As much as this group of paduans seemed remarkably conflict averse, Petruchio was worse than the rest.  He'd intimated many times that we were nuts to go anywhere near the spiders. Pretty sure he was thinking that the best course of action was just to spend his remaining years at the altitude where the spiders couldn't survive, so the fact that we were willingly going down lower than that was madness. Venturing into the valley itself was just suicide.

Heading down the mountain should have been an easy hike, and not just because we were going down hill. There was something of a trail made between the paduans and the local wildlife. And yet, because the brief break in the storm had been just that — brief — it wasn’t long before ice was hammering us, and incredible display of precipitation and wind force came down. Petruchio was mostly taking shelter behind me and guiding us from the rear. The weather patterns were bizarre and unnatural. 

That much we all agreed on. Beyond that, we were kind of a mess. Any time we paused for me to rest and quietly endure horrific agony, Amber would get a concerned look on her face. Then Yuri would say that there was no option but to continue on into the valley, and then Amber would say that she didn’t say anything. But then Yuri would say that he knew what she wasn’t saying, that she thought we should turn back and get more prior to doing anything foolish like saving Yuri's family. 

Which, naturally, pissed Amber off. She might have been thinking those things, but she wasn’t saying them. And I’d argue she was probably reacting more to my obvious pain than thinking going to save Yuri’s family was dumb. And Amber would get angry and she’d let Yuri know that Yuri was being an ass.

That didn't sit well with Yuri. Probably because he knew he was being a dick and no one likes that being pointed out.

Eventually they settled on just not talking to each other, which was phenomenal since there were only two people that I could talk, and they didn't want to speak to each other, and we were all preparing to risk our lives.

There might be the question of ‘what about Petruchio?’ to which I would say, yes, what about the little shrewfolk? He wasn’t interested in speaking to me because he clearly thought I was either a psychopath, a moron, or a suicidal dickburger. And if he had said that, I would have pointed out how those things are not mutually exclusive and it’s exceptionally likely I could be all three. But he didn’t say those things because he was only willing to speak to Amber. 

So Amber had some chats with Petruchio when we huddled in boulders to get out of the storm, and I passed out from pain. 

Otherwise, I had to trudge on in silence. Brooding about things.

Like how the storm made this impossible. Even if we did believe our new paduan friends could get there in time to send the military via Air Fritz, I worried Fritz couldn’t fly through this mess with any degree of safety. I was doing my best to project optimism, but I didn’t believe we were going to be okay. I imagined we’d be able to do something — maybe we could get the family out, or maybe some of the others. Maybe we could find a bolt hole to hide in and ride out things until the rest of Coggeshall came riding in to our rescue. But that was really the best case scenario, given that I had to take breaks just from the hiking to let the pain wash over me. 

And each time I did, Yuri would stare at me, and I couldn't tell if it was concern or frustration or a mix of the two. 

So, you know, a lot on my mind, and a fair amount of time to deal with it when there was nothing I could do to resolve any of those issues. Always the best.

Given the cloud cover and the perpetual ice and rain and snow falling, it was difficult to judge the time, but it felt like it took at least most of the day to get to where we were going. At least it was still daylight when Petruchio stopped walking and pointed.

“What?” I asked.

Petruchio turned to Amber. “That is where you should enter the valley.”

Amber squinted, looking along the furry fellow’s finger.

“Where?” she asked.

“There, do you see those trees?”

“There are trees everywhere.”

“The one that is a little red? Next to the leafy green one bent over?”

“Yes, but–”

“There is a gully there. A spring higher up, that empties into the valley there. You can go down that gulley.”

“Isn’t it-” I started, but Petruchio had turned and was walking away.

“Petruchio,” Amber called out. Not loud, but you know, making it clear she was trying to get his attention.

The little guy didn’t turn around. He was done. As soon as we got to where Petruchio thought we could see where we needed to go, he booked it back home. He had no desire to be anywhere close to the spiders in all their terrible forms. I didn’t really want to be there either — the fucking things gave me the heebie jeebies in the bad way. But I had to be there, I had to help Yuri. And all the other people who were being held by the spiders.

I kept telling myself that — that I had to be there. That there were people who needed help, and I was someone who could, in theory, help them. Which meant I was honor bound or duty bound or bound in some capacity to help.

We walked the rest of the distance, maybe a few hundred yards, until we found the little stream coming down from the little spring and leading to a gully that lead into the valley. Just as Petruchio had said.

It wasn’t going to be a super easy trip down, because it’d been raining a ton. So more than likely, it was going to be a dangerous slide down.

I sighed, and dropped into a squat next to the reddish tree, a maple. I pulled off one of the seed pods and threw it into the air, hoping I’d get that classic helicopter drop.

It spun once before getting nailed by the rain and then disappearing below. 

Amber sat next to me. 

Then came Yuri.

The three of us huddled there on the edge of the valley, watching the swirling haze below. The unusual heat of the valley blending with the freezing rain created a weird mist that didn’t fully obscure the view, but it did make any sort of observation difficult. 

I didn’t think I’d miss Petruchio, as he’d mostly given me the silent treatment, but I’d had some second-hand enjoyment of the conversations between him and Amber, learning a little of the life he was leading as a paduan. Talking about marmots and lichen and their little world I’d been completely ignorant of until this misadventure. Now that he was gone, there wasn’t anything to balance out Yuri’s black mood, which was somewhere between rageful and murderous. Quietly seething over things, ready to unleash whatever hell he possessed on anyone who did him wrong. Which I got. I'd been there, was a regular visitor, in fact, but it didn't make him much of a conversationalist or enjoyable to be around.

"You have been here before," Yuri said, breaking our quiet reconnaissance. “Where is their main home?"

“That cave over there," I said, pointing in the direction of where I remembered their cave to be. “The lake over that way is where the witches had their school and whatnot."

"On that island, right?” Amber asked. 

"Yep."

“And the brownies?"

I closed my eyes, trying to bring up an internal map for the valley. Not a system based one, just one in my imagination, but as I did so, I got a vast list of maps at my beck and call. 

Tons of them.

Every indoor place I'd ever visited since I got Labyrinthian Recall. 

Because I couldn't help myself, I brought up one, a house in Osterstadt. It was decent, a bit hazy because I hadn't gone upstairs, but it did contain everything I'd seen in a nice top-down visualization, including furniture placement, windows, doors, and even the knickknackery on the shelves. If I'd been into burgling, I could imagine this an invaluable skill.

As I was about to pull up a map of Valamir's home that was now my home, I felt something furry grab my face.

I opened my eyes to see Yuri staring at me.

"Sorry," I said. "I was trying to see if I had a map of it."

"You have such a skill?"

"Not exactly. I have one that can map indoor spaces."

"Ah. But this would then not qualify."

"It does not, so I... I think the brownies were over there, beyond the spot where the witches were, nearer the spider cave, but, you know, don't, like, hold me to that."

"I will keep it under advisement."

"You have a plan?"

"No. I am thinking, though."

"Want to share it with the class?"

"Who is the class?"

"Mainly me and Amber. But also that bug over there if he wants to join."

I pointed at a beetle picking its way through the pine needles at my feet.

"I know what you are thinking,” Yuri said.

“About the bug?”

“Forget the bug. And stop with the juvenile attempt at humor — this is not the time.”

“Not sure I agree with that, but sure. Consider it stopped. So tell me what I’m thinking.”

“It is the same as what Amber is thinking. You believe we should retreat and signal for Fritz to come retrieve us, then push on the valley with the entire might Coggeshall could muster..."

"But you believe your family is out of time. You have a mystical feeling that is the case.”

"Not just that. Imagine what the reaction would be to such an invasion?"

“The reaction of me or of them?”

"Them,” he said with a sigh of frustration. “I know what you would do, but I have been thinking what they would do. The spiders who are not spiders, how would they react?”

“I mean, either they fight or flee, and if they’re really afraid as Aloysius said, probably flee.”

“Perhaps. But what of their... livestock?"

"The people,” Amber said, as if she was beginning to understand things.

“You don't think they’d leave it all behind to be scooped up and returned to an ordinary life?" I asked.

"I admit I have had no interactions with them,” Yuri replied. “But I do have theories, based upon what I have heard. Would you consider them merciful?"

"I don't think that's really part of their culture."

"What, then, would you posit their actual reaction?"

"Slaughter, gorge, pack what they can, exit stage left, pursued by bear."

Yuri gave me a strange look. "You would assign the Urus to chase?"

"No, it’s⁠—“

"But they are so slow."

"It was a bad joke."

"Indeed," he said, staring into the valley as if he'd be inspired by something there and see the tactic needed to get his family back. “Instead, then, imagine yourself in the situation of facing an overwhelming force set to eradicate you. When you would flee, what would you do with your resources?”

"Like if we had a herd of cattle," I started, "and we saw a force coming we couldn't fight?”

He nodded.

“I mean, I guess we’d retreat and either take it with us or, you know⁠—”

“Exactly. That is what I have been worried about. That were we to return with force, en masse, there would be no hiding our intentions. Anyone down there who are not of the spiders would be slaughtered or otherwise prepared for a retreat. They would not leave anything behind, certainly nothing for you, who they believe to be their fundamental enemy. I know you believe I am only thinking of my family, which of course is my main priority, but this other reason has been present in my thoughts. And is why I had been fighting Amber so stridently on this.

I leaned back and looked up at the skies, letting my mind relax in hopes that it would come up with something. It did not. Instead, I got rain in my eye.

"Shit," I said.

"What?" Yuri asked, his attention still on the valley. "Another spell?"

"No, just a bit of ice in my eye."

More unreal maelstrom headed our way from the west. It seemed like it was becoming a storm of biblical proportions, clouds so thick that it looked like night on the other side of the valley, and rainfall so intense it looked to be a solid wall of water on approach.

"We are poorly placed to weather that," Amber said. “If it arrives while we’re still up here, we’ll get washed into the valley.”

"And it definitely grounds Air Fritz,” I muttered.

"Indeed," Yuri said, getting to his feet. "We must move. The storm will provide us cover — let us use it."

"You want to try the gulley?” I asked. “Pretty sure we can use it like a waterslide and get down there fast.”

He gave me a grin that reminded me of better days.

“It could be fun,” he replied.

79

Did the gulley function like a slide? 

Yes.

Did we make it into the valley?

Yes.

Was it fun?

No.

80

We did get down into the valley very fast. We also got a few scrapes along the way, wound up soaking wet, and I definitely had to dig some large rocks out of myself. Although, to be fair, we were already pretty soggy at the start of things. 

The gulley stream bounced back and forth a little before letting out into a smaller pool that was in the midst of an overflow event. It required a little swimming to get to dry land, which was most definitely a misnomer at that point.

But we’d made it into the valley before the storm hit, and the trees provided a modicum of shelter so that we managed to stay out of the weather exactly five point four seconds longer than had we been out in the open. Though they did break the impact of the ice a little, because somehow there was hail mixed in with the downpour. Wintery mix, I think I remember it being called. 

Yuri held at the base of a particularly large tree, something I was glad for, as the next wave of pain hit, my nerves lighting up under the venom's assault. It was weird to be the one who had to request the rest. Not that I had to, because it seemed like Yuri was quite aware of when I needed breaks. 

The pain wave broke over me, and I had to hold on to the tree to keep from pitching over.

It was a weird shift to go from the freezing cold above into the absurdly warm valley. Disconcerting, unpleasant, other negative words to try to make it clear how fucking weird it was. 

I still hadn't solved that mystery, and that quest was lingering. I knew there had to be a reason. What the fuck would make this micro-climate exist the way that it did? The only saving grace for us was the weather, because it was completely fucked out. I'm pretty sure I learned that phraseology from the Weather Channel.

The rain itself was frigid. That, plus the wind, meant we could move around with a vague sense that no one else was going to be dumb enough to be out there doing it too. 

But frankly, I didn't want to be doing it. I was pretty sure this was a...uh, Yuri was using the weather as an excuse to completely ignore any sense of stealth. We were going full speed ahead, depending on Amber's ranger skills to keep us from stumbling into a trap. There were quite a few obvious traps, at least once Amber pointed them out, that we might have fallen into. 

As we approached the woods, Yuri hissed at Amber, and then snapped his paw.

She glared at him for being so rude, but went over to him. And because I was starting to feel the pain reach a breaking point, I leaned on a tree and released the ability, that glorious pain wash over me without dropping out of the world. It was weird to have to fight to maintain consciousness, but, like most anything, I was starting to get used to the whole rigamarole.

But my dissociative state meant I missed the next smidgen of interchange between Amber and Yuri. Something went down, because when I looked back to the world, mostly pain free, I was there with Amber and Yuri was gone. 

I looked over and she did the universal signal for 'just shut the fuck up and wait.' 

I had no idea if we were currently in danger, so I did in fact, shut the fuck up. I waited and I watched. Seconds later, Yuri came back, moving out of the mist and the rain, hopping up out of the grass in such a way that made me very glad we were not enemies. He was fucking seven feet away before I even fucking noticed him, he blended in the grass so goddamn well. 

"There is a group ahead," he whispered. "It would appear they are resting or," he shook his head, "I don't really know. They're grouped together, I know that much. They have no eyelids. Maybe they are sleeping, maybe something else."

"What kind are they?" Amber asked. 

"I would presume patrol."

"Okay," I said, “do you think we go around them or we go through?" 

I could tell immediately that Amber had one idea and Yuri the other. Yuri and Amber were both smart enough to recognize that as well. So Yuri just launched right in with defense of his idea. 

"If we go around, we leave them behind us. As soon as they see we were here, they’ll be on the hunting." 

"If we kill them now,” Amber retorted, “we alert the entire valley that we are here and we will be fighting from this point on until we either are victorious or are overwhelmed." 

And then both turned to me as if I was going to be the one with the wisdom. What a fucking mistake that was. But then I realized that I was just the tiebreaker. Or, more precisely, I was the one who had to actually make the decisions.

I didn't like the idea of leaving anybody behind me from an enemy perspective. Because then we didn't just need to be watching in front of us — we also had to watch our backs. But if we threw down and attacked this group, we might make enough noise to wake up the entire valley, and then we’d be more or less fucked. But if this group was just snoozing it, maybe we could kill them on the quick and quiet.

"I don't see another way," I said. “We have to take them out. Otherwise we have to keep a set of eyes behind us." 

Amber frowned. "I am already watching behind us.”

“You’re partially watching behind us because you’re also looking to the front.”

“We have no idea what we've already missed. We just know that these are the first that we have found, and⁠—”

“Do you think that this valley is just filled to the brim with spiders that we've missed them all?" 

“No, but⁠—”

"How many did you see?” I asked.

"I counted eight," Yuri replied.

"How big?" I asked.

"Larger."

"Okay, larger than what? There's a big difference between, like, larger than a house cat and larger than a fucking horse."

“Not so large as a horse, but larger than house cats."

"Okay, those are still two extremes, man. Like, are they, like, me-sized?"

"It is difficult because their abdomens and thorax⁠—“

“Cephalothorax,” Amber corrected.

“—are not that large, but they have long legs."

"Okay,” I said, thinking through a potential strategy. “Eight of them, three of us. They’re sleeping. Beyond everything else, might be useful for to hit this group to gauge their reaction. If they send a runner, send up a flag, make contact somehow with another group, that tells us what the rest of the valley might hold. If we make too much noise, we’ll retreat into the snow and wait until dark, and then come back down. At that point, we go full stealth.”

"That is a gamble," Amber said.

"This is all a fucking gamble," I snapped. "We are doing the only thing we can, and right now, we’ve got a shit plan. But you know what? it’s the only plan we got, so we need to be happy with our shit."

Yuri nodded.

And even though I knew this was the right way to go, Amber probably viewed it as me taking his side. I could see that made her angry. But I had to wonder if that was anger born of fear. Or if she was somehow feeling betrayed, I don't know.

Finally, she nodded.

"I am not as good in the melée," she said. "I will hang back. And I presume, Yuri, you will attack first. And you, your Grace, will come from the flank."

Yuri nodded. I did a quick mental run of that tactic in my head.

“No,” I said. "It would be better if Yuri does the flank, and I do the full straight on. He’s quieter than me, and if they are awake, he has a better chance of coming around on the flank. Whereas if I’m flanking, I am destined to make noise. And that changes me to being on the front because they’ll turn to face me, and Yuri will be the flank. But he’d be thinking he is coming from the front and not hit correctly as the flanker. I am the loud, he is the quiet, you are the distance. I am the front hitter, he is the flanker. And Amber picks off anything that makes a run for it.”

“But maybe you need to get around to the other side,” Yuri suggested. “Get between this group and the caves.”

“Are we still going with the idea that these fuckers are based out of that cave?"

I got nods.

And the quiet that came told me that we had transitioned from planning into preparation. These were two professionals, and even though I knew we were not doing exactly what either really wanted, once the plan had been set in motion, we weren't going to dick about it. We were going to do it.

I gave each of them a nod. And I pulled an axe from my bag. 

I was ready.

Or… maybe not.

Looking over the big axe, with its very large cutting surface, I thought about what I would be cutting. Spiders. With their exoskeleton. Built-in organic armor. While I loved the axe, I had to admit that it might not be the right weapon. Every hit was going to be against armor, so something designed to punch through armor, not cleave flesh, would probably be better. Which meant a maul, a mace, a warhammer.

I put the axe back, focused on that family of weapons and told the magic bag that’s what I wanted, and promptly felt a handle in my hand. I pulled out a big fuck-off chunk of stone on the end of a pole. Crude, but effective.

Meanwhile, Amber had pulled out her bow and was whispering something over a small packet. She took a length of cord out of the packet and strung her bow. Apparently she had a spell she could use to keep it weatherproof and work in wet weather.

Yuri had his nasty spear out and I could tell he was already waiting for me to give him the go-ahead. 

"You need me to put anything in the bag for you?” I asked. 

Yuri thought for half a second and shook his head.

“I am good to go,” he said, and then went.

Which pissed me off, because we hadn't figured out what the attack cue was. I looked over at Amber. 

"He's just gonna start when he sees them, isn't he?" I asked. 

She bit her lip, watching Yuri disappearing into the mist way faster than I was comfortable with. “I imagine he is out of patience,” she said.

"We should get in place fast then,” I replied. “Get around to the other side and I guess just listen for when you hear sounds of battle ,and see if anything comes out of this copse of trees.”

“You want me far enough away that I'm not amongst the trees?”

“I think that you're gonna have trouble shooting anything in the trees, they're kind of tight packed in there." 

“I will have trouble seeing anything. The mist is… everywhere.”

"All the better to have a clear line of sight for where you can see it then, right?" 

She sighed, but nodded. 

"All right, let's do this,” I said, starting to feel that tingle of eagerness at the expected violence.

81

Istepped as quietly as I could through the trees, and came upon the spiders. 

It was what Yuri said: a group of biggish spiders all lumped together, in between some trees. It looked like they were sleeping. They had their bodies — abdomens, cephalothorax, and whatever other bits and bobs make up a spider — resting on the ground, and their legs were kind of pulled in tight next to them. Like Yuri said, they were very long.

Eight spider souls needing to be sent packing to spider heaven. 

But something felt a little off. 

So even though I was right at the edge of the clearing, ready to rock and roll heads, I took a moment to look around. All around.

There it is, I thought.

Above me, I saw a spider that I think was supposed to be on watch. It was on a ‘Y,’ between two branches, but in a similar body position to the spiders on the ground. Abdomen and cephalothorax resting on the tree, legs tucked just underneath the main body. 

If I had attacked then, that thing would have jumped me. I’d have been in a perfect position for it to drop down and drive its fangy bits into the back of my neck.

That wouldn’t do.

Quietly, I pulled a spear out of my bag, took aim, and hurled the spear as hard as I could. I didn't wait to see it hit — I had confidence in my ability to throw a spear mostly straight for about twenty feet and hit an unmoving target. 

I reached striking distance on on the sleeping group before the spear hit, and started swinging the big piece of stone on a stick.

I wish I remembered where I'd gotten it, because the crude hunk of junk worked like a fucking charm.

When I hit the first spider, there was the tiniest bit of resistance before the carapace succumbed to catastrophic failure. At which point I head a kersplooge followed by the explosion of lymphatic fluids all over the surrounding spiders.

They were very much asleep, but spreading their buddy’s innards over them did a decent job at waking them up.

A death notice popped up, surprising the shit out of me because I hadn’t seen a notification in a long fucking time and probably because it had been so long, I didn’t send it away immediately, I gave it a cursory glance and saw that these were the strangler patrol spiders at which point the notification got a bit blurry and disappeared as if someone realized I was reading something I shouldn’t and yanked it away. Fine by me, no time for reading, Doctor Jones.

The poor stranglers were groggy as fuck, rousing from what seemed like a pleasant afternoon nap in the rain. They moved with confusion, trying to address the situation, namely me, amongst them.

For once, I was not groggy. Nor confused. I had a simple job: bopping them fucks like a pissed-off employee who’d just fired from the piñata factory. 

And man, how I enjoyed that piñata de araña time. I chopped up and down, slamming that rock on those abdomens, fast and furious. Maybe thirty seconds of mayhem before I realized I was all out of piñatas. Sadly, these piñatas had the worst fucking treats inside. All the stranglers were dead as fuck, except for the one that was currently dying, slowly sliding off a spear lodged into the tree.

Some truly foul gurgling noises emerged from it as its vital fluids poured out its ruined form. 

Yuri emerged from the mist, face grim and ready to unleash hell.

He looked at the carnage I’d laid out for him, and nodded.

"We good for a second?" I asked. 

Yuri glanced around.

“I believe—” he started, but I missed the rest of it, because I released That’s Not Pain and passed the fuck out.

82

Iwoke to see Yuri kneeling over me, his dagger out and held at the ready.

"Uh..." I said.

He glanced down at me and flashed his terrifying smile.

"Heard something, sorry," he whispered, "stay here."

He disappeared into the mist and the trees.

I tried to get to my feet, but nothing seemed to want to work that way. My body-brain connection had something of a shaky vibe to it. Had to be a by-product of the pain cycles, or the nearly continual use of my That's Not Pain ability. Not sure if it there would be unintended side-effects, but it really seemed like all my special abilities worked in ways that were not immediately apparent.

Being that my body didn't really want to work, but I didn't really want to just lay there on the ground like a corpse, I maneuvered my weapon, the stick-and-stone combo, into a stable position against the ground. Then I kind of hauled myself up the haft. By the time I got to my feet, I was, well, not that much better, really.

I leaned on the nearby tree, a birch, and tried to brush some of the detritus off my pants. But the detritus was really just the external covering of the spider liquefaction, so all I did was smear arachnid foulness around until I gave up, realizing I was just making it worse. 

A moment later, I saw Yuri and Amber speaking quietly as they exited the mist.

I pushed off the tree and tried to appear as if there was nothing at all wrong with me, that I hadn't required a tree to lean against.

"What's up?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"We were—“ Amber started, but Yuri cut her off, clearly back to being irritated.

"We did a quick check of the ground surrounding this copse."

"To see if there was some sort of scout that might have alerted the rest of the colony,” Amber added.

“And?" I asked.

"Nothing," Yuri said.

"At least nothing that left tracks," Amber added.

"We should get moving. The longer we remain still, the more danger we are in."

Yuri didn't want for anyone to agree or argue. He just turned and burned. Although, in this case, the burning was more of a stern but quick saunter in the direction we believed the caverns to be.

Amber watched him go for a moment, then looked to me.

"What?" I asked.

"I feel... Is something wrong with him?" she asked in reply.

"Beyond his wife and children being in mortal peril and the nagging doubt that he's spent too long helping me to actually save them?”

"You know him better than me, but..?"

"I've had similar doubts. And the answer is that I don't really know. He's under stress and he's frustrated with me. I get why he'd be, um⁠—“

"Short?"

"I mean, I was going to say a raging dick, but your phrase is also accurate. Maybe we go with that."

Amber did a little eye roll, but smiled and put her arm in mine. She helped me along through the trees, and as we moved I started to get more of myself back, until it was more like we were walking together.

When we got out of the trees, we paused, looking out into the torrential downpour and thick mist.

No Yuri.

"Yuri?" I hissed, hoping he was just hanging out somewhere nearby.

No response.

Amber pointed at the ground, at the boot prints already being washed away by the rain.

“Oh."

So we followed the tracks. It was quickly apparent that Yuri was done waiting for us. He was moving fast and somewhat loose, not quite without any regard for stealth or possible dangers, but it didn't seem like there was a chance we’d catch up to him without throwing caution to the wind and sprinting. And that wasn't a grand idea for a myriad of fucking reasons.

"Fuck," I said softly.

Amber glanced over, I think expecting me to continue speaking on whatever was bothering me, but that was the extent of it. I didn’t have anything else to say.

I stopped walking.

Amber took another few steps before she realized I was no longer following, and then turned back to look at me.

"You need a break?" she asked.

I kind of did, but I didn't want to admit that. Which she picked up on.

"You should at least be honest with me about that," she snapped, coming up to me and gently pushing me until I was leaning against a tree.

"That's not why I stopped," I replied, "it just seems like we can slow down. At least to make sure we're not going to walk into some shit."

"You think I can't do that at the speed we're going now?"

"That's not what I meant. But, can you?"

"Yes."

"Totally?"

"What does that mean?"

"I mean... You know what? You're right."

"I don't wan to slow down too much because Yuri is on his own."

“You think we can catch up with him?'

"I think we can try to not be so far behind him that we're not there when he needs us."

“But if we go too quick and fall in a pit, it's hardly like we’re any help."

"Won't we notice him in the pit with us? Because we're following his tracks?"

"So you think he'll trip anything before we get to it?"

"Yes."

"I guess I can see that if it’s a literal pit, but if it’s just an ambush set up after he wakes up the next spider slumber party--"

She frowned.

"I don't want to go slow either," I said, "but I know that Yuri isn't being careful now. Which means we have to doubly so. We shouldn’t run our selves ragged only to stumble into a problem we can't get out of."

"How much of this is because you don't know how hard you can push yourself?"

"That's part of it," I replied. 

Amber sighed but nodded. She waited for me to stand up before we continued on at a significantly reduced pace as Amber checked out a lot of little things she now saw as suspicious.

83

Moving through the mist was disconcerting, a feeling intensified every time Amber told me to hold up because she wanted to check something.

"Hold up," she’d say.

I'd stop and drop to a knee.

She'd move off to look at a tree or a bush or a rock.

I'd let my That's Not Pain ability drop and get the rush of primal agony washing over and through me until I was back to the stasis point, where I could just exist without pain and without the ability running in the background. Most of the time, I managed to maintain consciousness. Twice, though, I came to, still kneeling, with Amber's face in front of me, a look of concern marring her otherwise unreal beauty.

The next time, when I let the pain come, I grit my teeth as the blinding, fierce anguish flayed me. I clung to consciousness tenaciously. My vision began to narrow down until it felt like I was looking through a long, small tunnel. Amber returned, dropping into a squat next to me.

"We have a problem," she said.

"We're out of cheese?"

"What? No. There's a trap ahead."

"What kind of trap?"

"A trap trap, I think."

"Trap trap? I admit that my grasp of tra- making is limited, but I feel like I'd know if trap-trap was an actual thing."

"Just come with me," she snapped, and then crouched walked away, as if we needed to keep out of sight.

I hated the crouch walk. Sure, in a video game, you can crouch-walk no problem. Do it for-fucking-ever. But in the real world, even being fit as fuck with better than average flexibility, it sucked. I felt awkward, and all sorts of shit pinched, especially when wearing shitting ill-fitting clothes I think I'd looted from a castle after said castle had been empty for generations. And since I hadn't showered in who knows how long, the crouch walk really intensified the crotch musk that my pants had developed, getting it all up in my senses. And not in a good⁠—

"There," Amber said, pointing to what I saw as a somewhat leafy, muddy spot under a large oak tree.

"What am I looking at?" I asked.

"Lack of movement."

"Lack of⁠—“

"The leaves and grass do not move there, despite the wind and rain. They are being held in place by something."

I halted the pithy statement I had ready to go when I realized what she meant. As soon as she'd pointed out what was missing from the view in front of me, I couldn't really see anything else. A rough circle on the ground, maybe six feet across, looked just like all the rest of the overgrown undergrowth we'd been moving through so far in the valley. Except that nothing moved in response to the environment. In other spots nearby, I could see drops of rain hitting grass stems and causing a little bounce. The intermittent wind would shift grass, move leaves, all of that. But in this one circle in front of us, nothing. It was as if it was either some incredible sculpture work, or something had sprayed a fixative across the surface, locking everything in place.

But... Yuri's tracks...

"Are those Yuri's tracks?" I asked.

"Yes. That would be... Another weird thing.”

Yuri's tracks led to the spot and then disappeared, only to reappear on the other side, continuing on into the mist.

"Yeah, super weird," I said.

"Could be they wanted to let the first person pass, then spring their trap," Amber offered.

"Seems like a strange tactic — what if there isn't a second person? Do they have some sort of lookout… except that doesn’t work because the lookout wouldn’t have been able to see us, so they wouldn’t know anyone else was coming.”

"But... There could... Yeah. I ... What else could it be, though?"

"Sleeping?"

I inched closer to the circle of non-movement so I could almost reach out and touch it. I went from crouch to kneeling so I could get a better look at both the point where the non-moving circle met the regular environment, as well as the non-moving circle stuff itself, to see if it was engineered to look like grass or if it was actual grass, just sealed.

But up close I noticed another oddity— a bump. A long hump that almost reminded me of a speed bump, except not quite as tall and not quite as wide. It almost looked like it might cover a hinge?

I leaned forward, then over to the side to get a better look at the bump. But I’d already gone too far, and the trap sprung.

84

Several things happened simultaneously. 

The round bit of ground flipped open, hinging on the bump. So it was a hinge. 

It revealed a dark pit hidden under the flap of ground. 

Which was filled with a very large, very hairy clump of legs that was busy emerging at speed, and between all those legs and all that hair was a face with lots of big eyes.

I pushed myself back, whipping my torso back against the mud.

Something went over my face, and one of the eyes of the creature seemed to sprout feathers?

The thing sort of fa-whumped to the ground in a rather pathetic finish to what had been, up at that point, a remarkably terrifying ambush.

I had my dagger out, ready to attack the creature that was mere inches from me.

But was no longer moving.

Well, it wasn’t moving forward. It was, however, startling to curl up, its limbs pulling into itself. Something oozed out around the feathers, which I realized were attached to a very thick arrow, nearly as thick as my forearm.  

The thing was dead. And it had died very quietly. In fact, everything had happened in total silence, with just the rain as background noise. Which made it all creepier. In that stillness, the spider-ness of the creature became evident, and as I stood up to get a good look at the thing, I was a little taken aback at the scale of the beast. 

"Did it get you at all?" Amber asked, rushing in.

"Um, no," I said, giving myself a once over. "Still whole. Good shot. Presuming, I mean, that's your handiwork?"

"Yes. And thank you." She blushed. "I, um, was lucky."

"Being that I don't have an arrow in me, just gonna say a quick prayer of thanks to Picus. Where'd that arrow come from? It's huge."

"Ability."

"Big-fuck-off-arrow?"

“That’s not its name, but I guess that's accurate. Useful when I'm up against larger opponents."

I nodded. It had definitely been a larger opponent. The hole in the ground was around six feet wide, and it didn't give our ambusher much room to relax. It had been squished inside, giving it a little more pushing power so it could explode out. It had eight legs, naturally, and seven eyes plus one otherwise occupied ocular cavity. Huge fangs tucked tight under its mouth, um, parts. Fangs that glistened with some foul viscous substance I imagined was venom.

"Big boy," I said.

"Girl."

"Girl?"

"She was a Strangler."

"Ah."

I stared down at the spider that wasn't a spider. It had nearly gotten me, and I had to wonder if I was losing my touch. If I missed something that allowed it to sneak up on me, or⁠—

"What?" Amber asked.

"What what?" I replied, ever the eloquent one.

"You don't normally spend this much time staring at a corpse. What's wrong?"

"I'm not used to, um, being saved like that. Worried what it means."

"Probably that you're finally getting better working with a team."

"Maybe. But what if I’m⁠—“

"Now is not the time. You can get introspective when we're not in the middle of this shit I tried to tell you was a bad idea."

"Is that your I-told-you-so?"

"Yes."

"Noted. It's just that, I mean, you're right. And we might, or I might not have another chance at introspection, and I'd rather be in top form for this. Or have⁠—“

"It would be nice if you were in top form for this, but you aren't. And as I've been told repeatedly, we have to do this now, so you have to accept that you are as you are, and you need to rely on me and Yuri to shore you up so you can shore us up so we can complete this as a team."

"Except that Yuri is a damn runaway, and⁠—“

"Right, so maybe not Yuri," she said. “But I’m here with you. I always am. I promise.”

She walked over to peek at the léonin’s tracks. "I think he jumped. The tracks are deeper here, as he landed in the mud."

I had some of the spider in my hands, trying to get it into my bag, but I paused to consider how to do it.

"Do you think he just figured we'd notice the tracks and not get jumped by the spider thing here?" Amber asked.

I shrugged, thinking the why didn't matter as much, and then decided that it probably also didn't matter if the spider was a little squished whenever I remembered to pull it out of my bag, so I just sort of forced it in.

Amber had gone back to the hole, kneeling at the edge and peering down.

"This might be an entrance to the caverns,” she said. "Can you see inside?"

Getting next to her, I held onto the edges of the hole and shoved my head inside. 

It was a nearly vertical shaft going down at least thirty feet before making a sharp turn to the north. The walls of the tunnel were layered in silk, an off-white matting of finger-thick strings. The texture was unpleasant, and combined with the alien sort of stench wafting from below, I had zero desire to be in there.

I pulled back up, knelt on the edge, and took a few breaths of the relatively better smelling air.

I told Amber what I'd seen.

"I think this could lead inside," Amber said, peering into the hole. "Into the caves."

"Somewhat impossible to say," I replied. "Perfect time to have some spare kobolds to throw about. Or goblins. Or..."

I summoned some prinkies, and suddenly there were three furballs in front of me: one red, one blue, and one looked like it had fur made out of glitter.

"Go see what's in there," I said. 

The red one jumped in without any sort of hesitation, and half a second later there was a sort of thud, followed by silence.

"Maybe climb down?” I offered to the other two.

Glitter and Blue nodded, and started down.

"Do you think we have time to wait for them to go and come back?" Amber asked.

"No. And, frankly, I don't think this is... I mean, I don't think we should go this way even if it turns out to lead to the caverns."

"Why?"

"Yuri went that way. And you were right — we need to be there to back him up when he inevitably gets in too deep. We know there's an entrance that way. I mean, I think we know that, but this tunnel could go anywhere and take a long time to get where we actually want to go. There are too many variables here."

Amber didn't like that. I could see she was half-tempted to jump down despite what seemed to have happened to the first prinky.

"Besides," I said, “did you bring a light for this?"

"I've got a candle and a torch," she replied, already pulling the items from her pack. 

And before I could tell her that I didn't need to see them, she'd lit the fucking torch, a surprisingly large hunk of well-oiled rags attached to a metal rod about a yard long. 

Amber leaned forward, using the rod to get a better look at the tunnel, illuminating the two little prinkies who were only about six and eight feet down, respectively.

Back in the old world, I always imagined that torches were used as the primary light sources in the age of castles and knights and such. Torches in sconces in hallways, and torches in hands when walking around, and torches just hanging out in bedrooms. That's not really true though, because torches have a number of issues to them that I didn't consider until I saw both torches and candles in common usage. Torches put out a lot of light, and can handle some weather. Candles don't, and can't. Or something like that. But unlike candles, torches also put off a ton of smoke, and worse, tend to drip oil out of them. Oil that has the nasty habit of lighting on fire.

So as Amber leaned over to look in the pit, getting her torch over it to see better, a particularly large drop of oil fell out of the torch, giving us a nice glimpse of the tunnel as it went down, lighting up the silk-lined walls until the drop of fire hit the bottom, showing, definitively, that the little red prinky had become nothing more than a splotch of glitter on the floor. Also, the drop of fire told us something else very useful: this spider silk was flammable. Within a second, the fire started to spreading as the silk burned. Not quite an inflagration — it wasn't totally out of control — but it was growing exponentially. 

“Get back up," I yelled at the prinkies, reaching my arm in as far as I could so they could grab onto me. Even they scrambled, they weren’t going to reach me fast enough.

I unsummoned them, then grabbed the torch from Amber and threw it into the tunnel. 

"Hey, wha-" she stated.

Before she could say anything else, I pulled the trap door closed, save the thickness of a large branch I laid horizontally across the hole. I could hear air being pulled into the hole, making a whooshing noise.

"Let's move," I said, "I think we maybe just caused an excellent distraction.”

85

Maybe five minutes after we started the fire, Amber stopped. She got a crazy look on her face, and then grabbed me and pulled me on top of her into some shrubberies.

”What—“ I started, but she grabbed my cheeks.

”Shush,” she hissed.

I shushed and tried not to think about how I had to be crushing the poor girl who probably only weighed a fourth of me.

For a moment, we just laid there being awkward. I was about to say something along the lines of this probably not being the right time for a trip to her bush, but then I heard something.

A bunch of things rushed through the landscape with no regard for stealth. They crashed along, and I think it’d be fair to say they were yelling at each other in whatever language they used. But somehow, my skill wasn’t proccing, I couldn’t learn the tongue. Maybe because it was a bunch of clicks and clacks I had no idea how to reproduce, or maybe because they didn’t have distinct words that could fulfill that three-word magical limit. Whatever the case, I felt like there was communication happening.

I lifted my head up a little to try and take a look, but Amber yanked me back down.

Instead, I pushed into tremor sense and realized two things right away.

One, I had to let go of That’s Not Pain to make it happen.

Two, there were so many damn sources of vibration nearby that my senses were overwhelmed. There were too many footsteps to count, and something was going on underground as well. Things moving and some other set of vibrations entirely, a bit like a rhythmic whomping. Maybe that was the fire? Some combination of the silk burning and air flowing? I wasn’t sure.

But then the pain got too be too much and I had to let go.

Amber rolled me off of her. She got to a knee, peering through the leaves at the world around us. 

“You good?” She asked.

“Are we clear to go?” I replied.

She nodded.

“Then I’m good,” I said, getting to my feet and putting my ability back in place.

She moved on.

I followed, but I couldn’t help but look back over my shoulder, trying to get a sense of what had just passed. 

They were out of view, lost in the mist and the rain. Rain that was still pouring down in biblical proportions. Whatever had gone by, though, had left a very clear path for us to follow, trampling down the grass into mud through their mad rush to get to wherever they were going, which, I’m pretty sure, was the fire we started.

We hurried along the muddy trail, keeping to the side as best we could. Another five minutes or so, and Amber gesticulated wildly and we hid ourselves in the tangled roots of an ancient beech.

This time, I was able to get an eye on the passing horde, and it was the stuff of nightmares, just a gaggle of huge fucking spiders. Heavy enough to make noise with their passage, throwing up mud behind them as they sprinted along. And they’re enough of the eight legged shitbirds that I couldn’t count them. I could tell it was a mixed brood, with some that looked like giant wolf spiders and some that looked like massive huntsman spiders and it all just looked like an arachnaphile’s fever dream. Nothing good. Nothing pleasant. Just a whole lot of awful.

“Shit,” Amber said quietly, I think to herself.

”What?” I whispered in response.

“Yuri’s tracks.”

”Did we lose them?”

”No, just — they go that way.”

”So?”

”So the path from those things⁠—“

”Just call them spiders.”

I could tell she wanted to give me a look, the look, but instead shetook a breath and continued on without getting into it.

”The paths diverge.”

”Two paths diverged in the woods, and I took the one less traveled?”

“What, why? That makes no  sense.”

”It’s a poem, I think. Why did I remember that just now?”

“No idea. But it’s dumb.”

”Unless you want to take a nice walk.”

”Pretty sure we don’t. We want to find the cavern, and all those things that are a lot like spiders but aren’t probably came from the entrance to that place, which means we should go after them.”

”And Yuri?”

”Who are we trying to save?”

“Fuck,” I snapped. “Why⁠—“

”Not the time, your grace. I can hear more of them coming. So either we follow this trail and get to the entrance, or we follow Yuri’s tracks and hope we catch up to him.”

I really wanted to tell her that she should choose, but I knew that was unfair of me. I was the duke — still not sure how the fuck that happened — which meant I had to make the choice and take responsibility when I fucked it up. But there was one thing I could do…

I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer to my lord and savior Mister Paul.

”Dude,” I said, “which way do I go?”

I opened my eyes, expecting some sort of sign.

Nothing that I noticed.

And it’s not like Mister Paul was overly subtle. 

But, then again, he’d been silent for a while, so maybe he was, somehow, busy somewhere else instead of helping me like he should have⁠—

“Which way?” Amber asked.

”If we can get to the cave quickly, we might be able to take advantage of this mess and get some people out. If we go after Yuri, we’re just wasting this distraction.”

She nodded, and we were off once again.

86

We had to stop two more times to let hordes pass. All outgoing, nothing was coming back to the caverns now.

Once we got to the entrance of the spiders-who-weren’t-spiders’ home, it became rather apparent what was going on. Thick sooty smoke was pouring out of a twenty-foot hole in the limestone, or dolomite escarpment in front of us. 

We crouched in a small group of bushes about a hundred yards from said hole. There was nothing but trampled muddy ground between us and that entrance.

And no one else around.

“You think someone’s watching this place?” I asked.

“Has to be,” Amber replied.

I pushed into tremor sense, letting the pain wash over me, and did my best to get a handle on what we might be up against. But I didn’t really have the range to ‘see’ into the cave. I could tell that there was still action happening underneath us, but, again, it was difficult to parse through all the inputs. There were a lot of muffled tremors as well, like footsteps on memory foam, or non-Newtonian fluids. Which made me pause because why did I know about non-Newtonian fluids? And then I had a vague flash of Mrs. Hickenbocker teaching physics my junior year, talking about corn starch and⁠—

I snatched my attention back to the present and pulled on That’s Not Pain as if it were a helm, and I was going to battle. Which was essentially what was about to happen.

“Can’t tell if there’s anything there,” I said. “But we need to go in.”

“I know. Just, what’s the play?”

“I take point, you follow. I can probably handle thirty seconds to a minute of intense action, at which point, I’ll have to pause and reset myself. “

“How much of a pause?”

“More than I’d like, but you’ll have to cover me through that.”

“Five minutes?’

“Less than that. But I haven’t been able to get a good sense of timing. You have any more of those giant arrow abilities?”

“I have more abilities, just… nothing like that.”

“Well, do your best.”

She gave me a nod, but the look on her face betrayed her. She had a complete lack of confidence in the situation.

Neat.

I reached into my bag, thinking it was time for the big ol’stick and rock combo, my new favorite way to smash spiders. But I paused. Ee were going into narrow caves, so it was probably better to have something smaller. But there was something in my hand already. 

Pulling my hand out, I saw a stick.

Or, rather, The stick.

I got the identification on the magic item immediately.

The Stick

Item Type: Mythic

Item Class: Utility

Material: Unknown Steel Alloy

Damage: n/a

Durability: n/a

Weight: 1 pound

Requirements: Ability to push a button

Description: A metal rod, about eighteen inches long with a button on one end. With the appearance of a thin flashlight, The stick’s appearance belies its abilities. At the press of the button, The Stick sticks wherever it is in the world. It will remain in place until such time as the button is depressed, at which point, the stick is no longer stuck.

I frowned, trying to remember where I’d gotten this thing and why I hadn’t used it before. Or had I? How much stuff was in this magic bag that I’d completely forgotten about?

”You’re using that?” Amber asked.

She already had her bow out and a clump of arrows in her other hand for quick firing.

”No, just, um,” I shoved the stick in my belt and reached back in the bag to get a war pick.

It smacked into my hand.

Warpick

Item Type: Common

Item Class: One-handed Melee, Two-handed Melee

Material: Steel

Damage: 10-20 (Piercing)

Durability: 14/20

Weight: 4.8 lbs

Requirements: Str 8

Description: A point on a head perpendicular to a shaft roughly thirty inches in length, designed to puncture armor.

It was only about two and a half feet long, made all out of steel and with a nice sharp pointy bit for all the exoskeleton bashing I could want.

”More like it,” I said, brandishing the weapon, getting used to it in my hand. “Ready?” 

Amber nodded.

I sprinted across the open space, going at full speed for the dark opening, the rain slicking across my face.

Midway there, something launched at me.

Without really looking, I swung the pick, catching the thing mid-flight. The pick’s point went through the exoskeleton like it was nothing, and what had once been a spider became a gooey explosion as I blurred on by.

Another something and another swing and another bit of goo left behind.

The pain was building, the damn close to bursting.

I dropped into a slide, pushing into the cave’s entrance like it was a contentious second base play.

In that split second where I had to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, and while I was still sliding, a set of fangs or or claws slapped shut right where my head would have been, had I been upright.

Instead, they closed on empty air with enough force that I could feel them.

I pushed my left hand into the ground to give my body leverage to twist to get the pick around, and slammed it hard into the holder of the claws. The steel pierced the carapace and kept going, gouging out a giant hole through the face and head of the spider that had just tried to eat me. Or was it even a spider because it had big claws? A ground lobster?

It was not a ground lobster, since the thing brought its big tail around, driving a stinger down towards me.

Ichor poured out of the ruined front bit of the creature, and I could tell that it had seconds left to do whatever it was going to, so I kept rolling my body toward it. The scorpion thing’s stinger went over me just as it also brought another set of claws my way. I got my dagger out of my belt, and stabbed it between the claws to keep them from closing on my torso.

For good measure, I hammered the pick into the thing’s tiny black eyes, one after another until six were gone and its legs finally began to curl up underneath it.

I put the pick out against the wall as I let the pain of the encounter wash over me, my teeth clenched tight to keep from screaming.

Amber was there as I came back to reality, her back against me as she scanned the area.

There were dead spiders all round us. Small ones, as well as one more large scorpion that was pinned to the wall with an arrow.

”You did all this?” I asked.

“Think it’s nearly a full minute you’re out,” she said quickly, sounding terrified and overfull of adrenaline.

”Fuck,” I said, “that’s not good.”

”Let’s hope the rest of this colony is busy fighting that fire, your grace.”

I didn’t have a response, so I just pushed in.

87

The entrance was a tunnel about a hundred feet long. It was tall and wide and had a smooth floor that transitioned from mud to stone. At the hundred foot mark, the tunnel opened into what felt like an underground cathedral-sized cavern. Soaring ceilings peppered with stalactites and nearly fully covered with silk. Lots of little balls of light were tucked in and around the stalactites, giving the cavern a blueish-white hue. Some of the lights were moving in the silk, and some things in the silk moved. And by things, I meant spiders.

Lots of spiders.

As my eyes adjusted to the weird light, I could see that there were all kinds of spiders everywhere. All busy doing things. Moving stuff, spinning webs, fixing things?

I don’t know. It wasn’t super clear what any individual arachnid was doing, but they were busy with the day-to-day logistics of this place, and maybe also dealing with the growing problem of the fire. There was plenty of evidence that our little oopsie had grown into a conflagration. Or an inferno. Hopefully.

A mass exodus started as soon as one of the smaller spiders saw us. Granted, by small I mean around the size of a larger dog. It was just sort of moseying along, a silken bag on its back, or its thorax or whatever. It got with ten feet of me, then paused. All eight eyes focused on me as it had to use its entire body to look up to see me.

Then it made a keening noise and scurried away.

Which caused a rippling cascade of both keening and scurrying, and the huge open space began to empty out.

I paused, gauging the room, trying to follow where all the little fucks were headed, because there were too many tunnels leading away from the cathedral. A quick scan and I counted five, plus the main entrance tunnel we’d just come through. Paths of smooth stone had been either carved out or worn down throughout the cavern, though most of the other surfaces were covered in layer upon layer of silk.

Most of the little dog-spiders headed directly away from us, through the largest of the internal tunnels. Some went into the opening to our immediate right, a few went to the closest tunnel on the left, and some went to a third tunnel. The smoke was coming out of the tunnels to our left, mostly from the closest one, and had done a pretty solid job of filling up the soaring ceiling above us.

”That way,” I said, pointing to the right. “No fires that way, no little fuckers going that way, I think⁠—“

”Stop explaining,” Amber called out, already running.

She made a good point, so I hurried after her.

Along the way, a few little spider things tried to attack us. I batted one away with my pick, smashing the floor. I stepped on another, and just straight-up punched a third. They didn’t seem built for combat, and I had to wonder if they were just trying to get out of my way and I wrongly assumed they were attacking and killed them. But then again, it’s not like a larger spider would have shown mercy had I just been trying to run from it.

We hit the tunnel at speed, and I tried to gauge how much more time I had before I reached my pain threshold. Not that much — certainly not enough if I had to go up against something as soon as we got on the other side of the tunnel. I knew the better plan was to pause before and go in to the new area fresh and ready to rumble. 

“Hold for a second,” I snapped, and slid to a stop with my hand against the wall, letting the abilty drop and the pain wash over before Amber even acknowledged I’d said something.

It wasn’t a full pain wash, but it still sucked. It almost felt worse somehow, like the pain was more piquant, and I had to wonder if I’d experienced enough agony to somehow develop some sort of skill in determining the specifics of affliction. Was I going to become a sommelier of pain? Or maybe I could just make a lot of shirts with weird ‘tribal’ patterns emblazoned on them. 

“Faster,” I heard Amber say.

I opened my eyes and saw that the little spiders had reached their big sisters and sent them our way. And these were some big fucks, like body of a cow and legs from an excavator’s arms. Huge fangs hung under weirdly small heads. They were really damn ugly.

“Moving,” I said, pulling the ability up, and running.

The tunnel was shorter than the first, maybe only twenty yards, and it looked like it had been carved from the rock instead of a natural cavern. Also it lacked the silk that was most everywhere else.

Which gave me an idea.

”You got another torch?” I asked.

Amber gave me a look like I was nuts.

“Anything with fire?” I asked.

She held up an arrow and the tip suddenly flared to light.

”Why?”

”Shoot the silk behind us.”

“But—“ she started, and then I think she realized our tunnel wasn’t coated.

She nocked the arrow and fired it in one smooth motion. It whizzed down the tunnel and thunked into a silk-covered stalagmite.

Our pursuers paused at the shot. I think they were a little surprised when Amber missed what I had to assume they assumed was the target: themselves.

Obviously, it wasn’t. The silk-covered stalagmite smoldered for a moment before fire really took hold, and then it was game on.

One of the big fuckers decided to take one for the team, and it ran across the space to the fire, probably planning to put it out. 

But that didn’t go as planned, because the spider happened to have quite a hirsute exoskeleton, and fire liked that shit. I’d have called it inflammable, because somehow that also means flammable. Fucker went up like some books in Florida.

The spider didn’t take being enflamed well, and made some terrible noises as it ran around in a herky-jerky, I’m-being-burnt-alive sort of way. That had the fortunate side-effect of spreading the fire around in a way I hadn’t seen since Buck Lewis tried the dance of the flaming asshole in our Lansing clubhouse. A clubhouse that is no longer there.

”Can you do more?” I asked.

Amber didn’t even reply, as she shot fire arrow after fire arrow into the cathedral cavern.

“Go,” she shouted between shots, “I’ll catch up.”

So I continued deeper into this nightmare.

88

The next room wasn’t as high as the Cathedral, but as I ran out of the tunnel, I was taken aback but the sheer size of the space. It was huge, going on far enough that I couldn’t really see the back wall. The immediate area was stone, but then I saw a stone fence of sorts, and then a whole bunch of grass. And spread out amongst the grass, humans. Like livestock.

Quite a few were looking in my direction, because, clearly, most of the action was happening behind me as the conflagration grew and spiders screamed and all that fun stuff.

I ran for the fence and was about to vault it when someone on the other side waved for me to stop.

”You’ll get stuck to it,” a young woman said, her voice just barely above a whisper.

I gave her a nod of thanks, then took a second to look around.

Which felt weird, because I could tell we were going to be in the thick of things any moment.

The joint was fucking weird as fuck. I’d never gone golfing in any real sense, besides getting drunk and pissing off old rich assholes, but the place seemed like a really long par 5 with a dog leg to the right, a few sand traps, and some water hazards. Lots of brilliantly green grass that didn’t quite look natural.

“How many of you are there?” I asked.

The girl had come closer to the fence while I’d been looking around. She was wearing crude, barely-cured hides over a rather emaciated form.

She looked back over her shoulder at the rest of the herd, and shook her head.

”Not as many as there were,” she replied. “Many have been taken, and I know not why so many are being⁠—”

”Taken where?”

”The butcher.”

”The butcher? Where’s the butcher?”

She pointed.

Another tunnel, about a hundred yards from where I was.

”Is there a way out of here?” I asked.

”Where you came from,” she replied.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Amber running my way. Behind her was fire. Roiling fire. 

“Okay, not really an option,” I replied. “Where else?”

”The butcher.”

”The butcher is the only other way out?”

She nodded.

”Okay,” I said, and I started towards the butchers. “Get everyone you can over near the butcher’s, and I’ll start doing my thing.”

The girl didn’t reply, or do anything really. She just sort of watched me go.

Amber caught up to me, breathing hard.

”Don’t touch that wall,” I said, using my head to gesture at the stone fence. “Apparently it’s sticky.”

”How—“ she started, and then stopped. “Answers that question.”

I paused to look over where she indicated. The remains of a human who’d gotten stuck in the wall, and had just stayed there. The punctures in his side told me that he’d been drained.

”And to think,” I said, “I used to dream about being sucked to death.”

Amber just shook her head.

I kept moving.

“Ahead is the butcher’s, apparently,” I said. “The girl back there told me the butcher has been coming and taking a lot more people than normal. Maybe they knew we were coming.”

”And they’ve been prepping their food for travel?”

”Maybe? Either that or they’ve got some party planned⁠—“

My words stuck in my throat as a massive being emerged from the tunnel. 

It was a spider, but bigger. Much bigger. Bulldozer sized, with legs as big around as tree trunks. Its fangs were large and thin, three-foot long hypodermic needles. It had what seemed like very specialized pedipalps next to its mouth parts. They looked like blades made out of chitin, shiny and smooth and black, and surprisingly flat. It had to duck to get through the tunnel, but once through, it was able to get its legs out straight, and I had to crane my neck to look at it.

The beast paused and slowly turned so that it faced me. 

All of its eight eyes met my two. I felt just a little outmatched.

”Mawbrood,” Amber said.

”Butcher,” I said.

A muffled scream came from the field, as if the mere sight of the butcher was enough to bring terror. Which I got. Because it was one ugly fuckface. 

Amber aimed and let loose a fire arrow.

I half hid a smile, getting ready to watch the dance of the flaming asshole once again.

But that did not happen.

This fucker, the butcher, was smooth. Maybe also in speech and dance, but at that moment, it was only apparent that its exoskeleton was completely smooth. Almost buttery, such that when the arrow hit it didn’t set anything on fire. It didn’t even penetrate the creature’s organic armor. The arrow merely slid off before slamming into wall behind the butcher with a fiery explosion.

But with no silk on the walls, there was no further fire.

”Shit,” I said.

I took a breath, swung the pick in a little twirl, and before I could think things through, I charged.

The butcher wasn’t expecting that, and it took a step back, unsettled.

I closed the distance in a matter of heartbeats, but by that time the butcher had recovered and counter-charged me.

Its bladed pedipalp came at head height, which meant a slight duck, and I was under it, getting up close and personal with the butcher. But the shift in height robbed me of my planned attack. My arm wasn’t in position to swing the pick up into the belly of the beast. Instead, I went to the side, driving the point of my pick into one of the segments of the Butcher’s leg. 

Steel met chitin.

Steel won.

But not as much as I’d hoped. The pick bit deep into the butcher’s exoskeleton, and stuck enough that I let go as I moved forward, not wanting to get caught under the butcher.

I ran out from under the back of the butcher just as it was turning around, and got my hand in my bag, yanking out a spear.

Spinning, I thrust the spear out, knowing there had to be an attack coming.

But there wasn’t.

The butcher, for all its size and obvious power, wasn’t that quick. It was still turning around to face me, which meant I had something of a free shot at it.

And I took it, throwing the spear into the side of its cephalothorax, slipping it between sets of legs.

The spear hit true, going deep into the absurdly thick exoskeleton, and then just remained in place.

I grunted in frustration while I pulled another spear out my bag, getting it into a ready position just in time for the butcher to face me again. 

It looked pissed. Or at least as mad as a creature without much in the way of mobile facial features could look. It was a bit like trying to gauge the rage of botox-riddled convertible drivers while lane splitting. You just kind of assume they’re about to blow.

The butcher lunged for me.

I slipped the butt of the spear against my foot, but otherwise just held my position, letting the big fucker, clearly used to harvesting humans and not fighting them, do all the work.

The spear went right into the mouthparts, with the butcher impaling itself, taking a solid iron point where only liquids had gone before.

It was a heavy beast, so I slid a step or two before stopping and wrenching the spear upward.

For a second, it seemed like I might lift the whole butcher into the air, the spear’s thick ash haft bending from the weight, but then the exoskeleton suffered a catastrophic break. With a snap, the entire front portion of the gigantic spider that wasn’t a spider broke open. Gore washed out from it in a veritable wave, and the creature died instantly.

I stood there for a second, stunned.

”Behind you!” I heard Amber holler.

I whipped around, leading with the spear point, thus sending rivulets of spider innards out around me, just in time to catch another butcher’s attack.

Butcher Two seemed to have as much martial skill as butcher one, and impaled itself on the spear. But it had caught me somewhat unawares, having brought its twin blades down and slicing into my arms, the chitin edges catching on my arm bones. 

It probably hurt a ton, but I didn’t feel it. Just noticed that I’d lost a fair amount of strength in my arms. 

My forearms still held, though, and my grip on the spear was solid. I used my upper body to work the spear around inside the butcher, doing my best impression of an immersion blender.

Butcher Two tried to move away from me as I swirled the stick inside it, but I followed, almost letting the thing pull me along. Fluids oozed from its wounds, and it was having trouble moving, only managing a few more steps before it seemed to lose whatever ability it had to make its legs extend. Butcher Two assumed the traditional death pose I’d become used to: limbs retracting underneath its abdomen.

I had to extricate the blades from my arms, each sliding free reluctantly and with a sucking noise. I stumbled a few steps away from the twin butchers’ corpses, shoved the spear into the ground and leaned against it, holding tight to consciousness for a second longer, knowing that I had to let the pain wash over me.

The tunnel to the butcher’s redoubt was our weak point, and I was almost there. Almost blocking it. If I could fight, I could hold that spot indefinitely against almost anything. Which meant I really just needed to stand there and look like I could fight.

I tried to make it look like I was just using the spear as a fun walking stick and not as a means to keep myself upright as I sallied over to the tunnel, where I casually leaned against the wall with the spear over one shoulder.

That’s Not Pain went off abruptly and the pain crashed over me almost physically.

I took it for the briefest of moments, trying to hide everything happening.

But then, things went dark.

89

Whoknowshowlong later, I opened my eyes to a horror show. So many fucking eyes looking at me, more than I could reasonably count without assistance. Across the short tunnel, which was perhaps only thirty feet long and fifteen feet wide, were so many different spiders. And they were all looking at me.

”Come on then,” I heard Amber say. “Try us.”

The spiders didn’t really move, but they made noises, clicks and clacks and the sorts of sounds that came from chitin rubbing against itself.

”Or you could just let us go,” I said. “And we’ll let you live a little longer.”

I heard Amber let out a breath, a sigh of relief that I was back.

The spiders didn’t reply.

“Well, my union break is over, so I’m back on duty,” I said to my attentive audience, and I stood up, walked to the middle of the entrance tunnel, and I took up what I thought of as a position of power. Spear ready. And, for good measure, I pulled a heavy scutum out of my pack, one of the large shields from the Legion.

One of the spiders, a smaller thing somewhere between the range of breadbox and cat, tried to make a run across the ceiling.

I let it get closer before lashing out with the spear.

The spear sunk into the apparently softer rock of the ceiling, pinning the smaller spider in place. It squirmed a little as it died.

I pulled out another spear and restored to my ready state.

”Next?” I asked.

Another spider moved, but, this time, it ran away. It left a little room behind so I could see through the group of spiders opposite me into what had to be the butchery. It was a large open space with several flat slabs to allow for cutting and processing, with grooves cut into the sides of the tables and holes in the floor. Two tunnels lead away from the room — one was dark and felt foreboding. The other had a bit more light and seemed to have the typical silk lining that was sadly absent in the butchers.

We were now at a standstill.

”You have a plan?” Amber whispered, standing just behind me and to the left.

”Don’t suppose you can get everyone out of here?”

”Through the fire?”

”Is the fire still going?”

”Yes.”

“You have an idea of how many people there are?”

”More than I think I can get out of the valley.”

”I can hold here for a long time,” I said. 

“As long as I can puppet you while you’re out, you mean.”

”You did what?”

”I made it seem like we were conversing, that you hadn’t passed out.”

I turned to face her, keeping watch on the spiders our of the corner of my vision.

”How long?”

”A minute?”

“And they bought it?”

”I guess? But⁠—“

I had been ready to interrupt Amber and ask where the fuck Yuri was, when there was a crack and a crash, the sound of something hard falling a fair distance. It had come from the grassy field, some rocks had fallen from the ceiling. 

As I heard the sound, I was already prepping to sprint over, but Amber held me in place.

”Move too far and they’ll come in,” she snapped. “You stay here. I’ll deal with⁠—“

She didn’t finish, because Yuri’s head was suddenly poking through a hole in the ceiling. He looked from left to right, and then back to left.

”Daddy!” called out a high pitched voice in mahrduhmese.

Yuri’s attention focused immediately on a clump of people over to the far side.

”Masha!” Yuri yelled out.

And then he disappeared.

”Unique reaction,” I said.

A rope dropped down from the hole, and a split second later, Yuri slid down to the ground.

He sprinted across the grass, moving around the various prisoners like he was in a football drill. A younger version of him ran right at Yuri, and they met in the middle where Yuri picked up his kid and held on tight.

Yuri didn’t stop moving, though, carrying his progeny towards the rest of the group.

”Might be our way out,” Amber said.

“Get Yuri moving them through there, and⁠—“

”You’ll hold here?”

”I have to.”

She gave me a nod, and then sprinted toward the field.

I returned my attention to my opponents, feeling like maybe, just maybe, we might weasel our way out of this mess. Or, you know, super weasel our way out.

But that was not what happened.

Because it couldn’t be that easy.

The problem behind me was that there weren’t many people in the herd of humans who had the strength to haul themselves up a rope, and even fewer could maneuver in a way to get themselves through the hole that Yuri had managed to find. As per Yuri, there were a number of ventilation holes hidden on the mountainside. He noticed one that was steaming ever so much amidst the storm, and he made his way through the, for lack of a better term, HVAC conduits until he got to the blocked end that was just enough rock stacked up to keep someone from seeing there was a hole in the ceiling, but not enough to withstand some dagger thwacking. 

The problem in front of me was, to me at least, significantly more terrifying.

The matriarchs had arrived.

90

At first, I thought maybe the spiders in general were kind of giving up, because they’d started to move away. They weren’t running away in obvious fear and surrender, but they were moving with the intent to make sure I was not at all close to any of them.

I grinned, hoping that whatever Yuri and Amber were doing was going to get better. I wasn't getting a lot of great feelings from behind me where they were, but in front of me? that was good stuff. 

And then the first matriarch came into view, and everything just soft of shifted.

She was very obviously not just your run-of-the-mill giant spider. There was a way she moved, a way she looked at me and the situation, that gave the air that this thing was much smarter than it appeared. That, plus it was significantly larger than any of the spiders I'd seen so far. 

Then came the second one, and the third, and the fourth, and at five there was no longer space for more matriarchs to join the viewing party.

But the noises happening off to the side told me there were more matriarchs nearby, conversing about who was allowed to come and kill with me, I supposed. 

Some primal part of me screamed that these things were too big, too powerful, and so wrong that they didn’t belong in the natural world. They were just products of a mad god's bad, bad dreams. 

I’d like to think there was something special about me that kept me there when others would have run away, because I did hold my spot. I didn’t take a single step back.

Instead, I stood there with my shield and my spear, and I eyeballed those fucks like the dipshits I thought they were. I’d faced down a god, after all. These were just some overgrown arachnids.

Now, while I was throwing around the stink eye, I also wondered if maybe it would have been a better idea to have taken the time to throw on some armor. I was still just rocking my winter wear — shitty leather coat, pants, and a flannel shirt. None of which really fit. And nothing that was going to do fuck all if any one of these queens decided to flex their muscle. 

Which made me wonder, did spiders have muscles? Is that how they made their limbs move? And as I pondered that, I waited for the quest to show up.

But maybe the universe realized that it wasn’t the time for silly quests, because nothing happened. There was no glibness. Maybe it was just waiting to watch me get my shit pushed in by spider legs.

I made guesses about the tactics and strategies the matriarchs might use based on what I could see. They were all unique, with different physicalities. And they all seemed to be holding back, kind of waiting. Maybe they were doing the same thing I was, looking at me as I was looking at them, trying to make guesses as to what we were going to do. 

The first one that had come in, the biggest so far, looked like she maybe had more than eight legs. There were spikes and spines coming out of all of her limbs, and everywhere across her carapace. It was hard to count her legs because of all the fucking spikes. And then, just to really amp it up, she had spiky claws on the end of each of her legs, like the grabber things in claw machines, except with a few extra grabby bits. Eight little claws on the end of each leg. Based on the long ass legs she had, I would have expected a larger abdomen and cephalothorax, but then again, what the fuck do I know about spiders? Making a guess about her fighting style, I’d bet she would charge in fast and then sort of thrash around, depending on those spikes to impale the shit out of anything and everything she touched.

The one next to Mama Spikes was more of a brute. Not as tall, but still seriously thick. Thick legs, thick abdomen, thick mouthparts, fangs the size of traffic cones, except pointy and likely not as useful for holding parking spots in the Chicago winter. Though I had the feeling if she claimed a parking spot in Chicago, she wouldn’t need to put out cones or a folding chair. No one was going to take it. The size of the BruteMother was startling, because she did not move the way her, I guess, size would indicate. While Mama Spikes had a fidget about her, the BruteMother was pretty solidly planted. But the few times she shifted her bulk around, she did it fluidly, with grace, like every step she took she thought about beforehand, and placed her thick ass foot exactly where she wanted it. It almost seemed to me as if the stone itself would flex as she stepped onto it.  She was ready to charge in like an eight legged rhino.

Next to the BruteMother was a deceptively slight-looking matriarch. Maybe only six feet tall, she could almost fit underneath the other matriarchs, except they gave her a wide berth. Her eyes looked at me with a knowing hatred. Her long fangs, tucked up tight under her cephalothorax, were nearly as long as her fucking abdomen. Long and thin, surely designed to pump a fuckload of venom into her enemies. It made me think she was probably mother to the daughters.

Other matriarchs were shuffling around the fourth and fifth place, but it seemed like no one wanted to get too close to MotherDermic and her needle fangs. So other spiders would come in and scuffle around to get a look at me, before another matriarch would push into view. The only ones who really stayed in place were MamaSpikes and the BruteMother.

I had to wonder if those three were the martial matriarchs. 

The few times I chanced a glance behind me, it was chaos.

Yuri seemed mostly back to his old self: calm and unflappable in the midst of everything.

His family, from what I could tell, was all there and whole. They were helping him triage the herd, trying to find out who needed immediate assistance, who needed medical care at some point in the near future, who was healthy enough to travel, and who could climb up the rope, which was, spoiler: basically no one. 

What we needed was for me to climb up the rope so that I could start hauling everyone up.

But I had to stand in front the matriarchs, making them remember that if they tried anything, I’d kill them. Thing was, I knew we had a real time limit because the fire keeping the other entrance to the herd cavern blocked was going to burn itself out eventually. I couldn’t cover both entrances, and then it was going to be spider lunch time.

I knew had to do something, but I didn't have a fucking clue how to get out of this situation besides standing there, looking menacing. 

Then the spider I had dealt with the last time came out. I recognized her immediately. She was bigger, having clearly grown since our first meeting. But she had the same markings, coloration, and unique features over her carapace that made her stick out. Notably, the gaggle of sickly, half-alive humans in a silk sack hanging from her abdomen.

The other matriarchs moved a little out of the way, making it clear that they weren’t moving in deference to her, so that she could stand directly in front of me.

She used a long leg to yank one of her meat puppets out of her pouch and set the poor woman on the ground in front of me. The poor woman had probably been beautiful and vibrant once, but had been virtually destroyed by her confinement within the matriarch’s puppet pouch. Her legs trembled trying to support her wasted body. What few bits of cloth remained were clinging on only because they’d rotted onto or within the skin itself. Her eyes were unfocused, her jaw slack, and if she could say anything, I could only imagine it would be begging for the sweet release of death. 

Then the matriarch, with no ceremony or pause, jammed her pedipalp into the poor woman’s head with a sickening liquid sound. The woman’s eyes rolled up, her body went slack, and the physical form of the human was being held up in place by the spider.

”You,” the woman said. Or, rather, the matriarch said through her meat puppet. Her voice was… different. Raspy and discordant. Like she’d been shown how to speak, but didn’t actually know how to do it.

”Me,” I replied.

”We are… surprised.”

“I thought you were the Grandmother.”

“We told you what we wanted you to know.”

“So, not a grandmother?”

“We do not conform to your foolish names.”

“Okay. Still weird that you’re calling yourself surprise, though.”

“We are surprised.”

“But… you’re not going to get it.”

“Get what?”

”Never mind. Good surprise I hope.”

”No.”

”Should I have brought something? I should have brought something. I knew it. But I just didn’t think you liked wine. Flowers? Chocolate?”

There was a pause for a long moment. I had to imagine the matriarch was confused as fuck with my witty banter.

”You would bring us a gift?” She finally asked through her meat puppet.

”I mean, that’s the polite thing to do when visiting someone. And I bet I have something here,” I said, letting my spear lean on my shoulder while reaching into my bag and trying to think of a gift.

Nothing.

Flowers.

Nothing.

A candle stick?

Bingo.

I whipped out the incredibly heavy, probably very valuable candle stick, roughly three feet long, as thick around as a normal person’s arm, intricately cast with a bunch of little monster types holding up a bowl where you could put a burly candle you wanted to burn for a week.

“Ta-dah,” I said, and I brandished the candle stick. “Might, uh,” the spear fell to the ground, clattering on the stone, “shit. Didn’t really mean to drop that but—” I left the spear in place while I took a few steps closer to the matriarch so I could toss the hunka hunka gold in front of the huge spiders who weren’t spiders.

All the matriarchs flinched back, taking at least a single step. Some, like the very little one, moved behind their larger fellow matriarchs to get a measure of safety.

The candlestick landed with a heavy thunk. It didn’t bounce, it just collected another dent from being dropped on another stone floor.

”I think that might be actual gold,” I said, trying to do the math of how much money I’d just thrown out as a joke. 

The matriarchs stared at the candlestick.

I stepped back to where I’d positioned myself and snatched my spear off the ground, resuming my stance. 

“Probably shouldn’t leave that there,” I said. “Someone might trip over it.”

“You give us a trap?”

”It’s not a trap, it’s a candlestick.”

”We do not use candles.”

”Well shit. Guess I should have just brought wine.”

”Enough of your jokes. You should not have come here.”

”You should not have been taking people.”

’’They are not your people.”

”They’re not yours either.”

”But they are. We have taken them. That makes them ours.”

“Doesn’t really work like that.”

“It would seem it does.”

”Can’t let you do that. Especially when you’ve been using my name to do it.”

”You have no choice in the matter. You have been absent, and we have grown stronger in that time while you dithered.”

”Dithered?”

”We are smarter now. Stronger. Faster.”

”Harder?”

”Yes. You have grown soft in this time. We have watched you and we have seen all you have done, or not done. All that has happened in this land, we have seen. And we have controlled. We control your lands, we control your people, and we control you.”

”The fuck you do,” I said, gripping the spear hard enough to make the wood creak. Because I wasn’t sure they weren’t wrong…

“We recognize that you still have some power,” the matriarch said. “Worth. We might be willing to negotiate.”

”Oh? Do tell.”

”You give yourself up, and we will allow some of those behind you to leave.”

”Give myself up how?”

“Give yourself to us so we may consume you.”

”Vore really isn’t my thing.”

”We are unfamiliar⁠—“

”Forget it,” I snapped. “You really aren’t my target audience. Also, I don’t trust you. At all. Any of you. You might say you’ll let these people go and then I die, and you don’t let any one go.”

“We would abide⁠—“

”And even if you did let them go, you might send your little fucking neck ticks to wrangle them all back as soon as they’ve left the cave, claiming you’d kept your promise.”

The matriarch shuffled, as if I’d discovered her clever plan.

“And,” I continued, “even if you did let these kind people go, let them settle in Coggeshall and live their lives, you’re not going to stop snatching folk and eating them, which means, sooner or later, we’re back in the same fucking spot we’re at now. Right?”

“You would be dead. It would not be the same spot.”

“You know what’s weird? I think I could come back from something like death if it meant I got to kick your stupid fucking teeth in.”

“I have no teeth.”

“Well, fuck. I guess I’ll find some teeth, shove ‘em in your mouth, and then fucking kick ‘em in. Better?”

“That is not the deal we would negotiate.”

“Are you sure?”

”You are unwilling to agree to our offer?”

”It’s a shitty offer.”

”It was presumed you would be selfish in this regard.”

”Selfish? I⁠—“

”This one,” the meat puppet screamed out at full throat-tearing volume with no regard for the physical issues such yelling would cause, “refuses to trade his self for you! He could end your suffering with his one life, but he refuses⁠—“

”Hey,” I bellowed, “not the whole story⁠—“

”even when he knows he is dying! When he knows he cannot fight us, he can do nothing but posture and lie!”

“You can call me a lot of different things, but I am not a liar.”

Which was mostly true.

”We know the truth of you,” she continued to yell, “for we are the ones who first delivered the venom into you.”

“Yeah, that stuff sucked, but⁠—”

“As well as the poison that continues to burn in your veins.”

”Isn’t it all venom?” I asked. “Kind of⁠—“

But then I noticed a certain someone walking out between the legs of the matriarch. Someone with really nice hair, smiling broadly. 

“Motherfucker,” I said, shaking my head at Johan. “Well, shit. Gotta hand it to you, that was some impressively sneaky shit.”

I could almost feel the smug joy radiating out from the matriarchs.

”Are you there, Johan?” I asked, “or is it just the tick?”

“He is not a tick.”

“Pretty tick-like.”

”We are together.”

”Really? You’re choosing the arachfucks?”

”I have a better life with them that I could ever have had under you. With you, I would have been little more than a slave because of my birth. With them, I am valued. Here, there is no benefit from birth⁠—“

”Dude, in a very vague sense, I get where you’re coming from. The whole lords thing is total bullshit, and I know I get to talk about it from the top of the pile so you won’t listen to me. But seriously? It’s so much worse with these fucks. You’re⁠—“

”You will die soon,” Johan shrieked. “And I will be rewarded. I will live on while you are consumed and my… my queens grow!” 

”I’m pretty sure I can kill you before anything happens to me,” I replied.

”You can do nothing,“ he said, smiling at me with the sort of smile that I used to dream about punching, but then would have to remember to be a ‘decent human being’ who ‘didn’t randomly punch smug fucks who took the all the Swedish meatballs at the DelMarVa Ikea.’

I got the spear up and hefted it, testing its weight and measuring the distance.

Johan’s smile disappeared, and he paled.

“I need but wait to watch you descend into death,” he said softly.

“Just a tip,” I replied, “I’m pretty good at throwing things. So if you want to do that, you might want to make a break for it.”

Johan looked at the matriarchs around him, and he did move a little to the left, kinda sorta getting a big leg in between me and him. But he didn’t run.

He should have.

I whipped that spear as fast as I could. It blurred across the space and pierced Johan’s neck. The whole spear went through his perfect beard and perfect hair, and then cracked the stone bench on the other side of the room.

There was serious kerfuffling amongst the matriarchs as Johan gurgled and stumbled around, his hands on either side of his ruined neck, blood spurting out between his fingers with all the impressive pressure a destroyed artery can deliver.

Some of the giant spiders moved back and out of the way out of very obvious fear, but the BruteMother lunged for Johan. She got her mouth parts over his head. There was a squish and a pop and the BruteMother had her snack.

She shivered.

I felt like vomiting.

Screams rang out behind me — the ‘livestock’ had obviously stopped trying to escape and were now watching me and the matriarchs. Which was probably the worst possible sitcom that could have ever been sitcom’d: one unruly lordling forced to room with man-eating giant spiders… hilarity ensues.

91

Ihad another spear out, ready to go. The matriarchs shuffled themselves around a little, as if trying to make sure they could dart out of the way if I threw it. I really felt like I could take them on, one at a time. But if they worked together, they’d be able to kill me.

But they knew I’d fight back, and that they could be injured or killed. And none of them had the courage to step forward. Not when they could be left weakened to be killed by one of their sisters. They were afraid. Or, as Johan had told us, they were creatures of fear and paranoia. Which meant I needed to figure out how to use that mindset to my advantage.

”We can offer you mercy,” the matriarch made the meat puppet bellow to the herd of humans behind me. “If you come to us now, we will show mercy to you. If you wait until this one dies, we will slaughter you without mercy.”

”You need a thesaurus,” I snapped.

”He will die in minutes! Even now, his strength is draining. All he does is bluff.”

”I don’t know,” I said, hoisting the scutum up, moving the spear around, and rolling my shoulders, “I’m feeling pretty good. Ready to rumble.”

”You are bluffing.”

”Am I?”

I was. But I was also hoping that Yuri had managed to get some people out.

”We know you are. It is only a matter of time until you collapse.”

”You might be right, you overlegged insect. I might be bluffing, you overinflated sack of rancid farts. You did poison me, and envenom me, you pultritrudinous organic dipshits, and that might have had some bad effects. Or maybe I have the strength after all…”

I took a step forward, and my knee gave out a little, causing me to stumble.

”And now you die,” the matriarch said with as much glee as she could shove through her meat puppet, already moving toward me.

MamaSpikes also came for me, as was the BruteMother. 

In fact, in that one stumble, it was as if I’d broken the magical barrier keeping the matriarchs back. They were all engaged in a mad scramble to get to me, to be the one who’d get to feast on my brain. Which, if I’d been able to actually tell them, was not worth it.

Although, if I’d been able to tell them something, it might’ve been that I’d been bluffing.

92

As I took a second stumbling step and the matriarchs closed in on me, I planted my right foot and used that to move my torso around, driving the spear out. It went into the second leg of Spikes and then into her abdomen, pinning her leg in place and causing her to fall.

I got my shield up and blocked a huge blob of webbing that hit with enough force to cause me to scoot back a foot. 

Reaching into the bag, I got out a war hammer, and had it going around in time to catch the BruteMother in the side of her head, knocking her mouth parts off track so she missed me, her fang catching in my shirt sleeve and ripping the cloth all the way down.

It didn’t crack her carapace though, and her bulk was doing a good job of keeping the others out of the way.

Which could be useful — if I could get her immobilized, she’d make a pretty effective block.

But she was a good fighter, because she must have realized what I was doing, moving under her body. She just dropped her entire mass down, trying to squish me.

I dove to the left, managing to avoid her heft by what felt like inches. 

Rolling to my feet, I got my shield up to block a leg from some fucking spider, and then lifted the shield up and slammed the edge down on the leg, smashing it against the ground and breaking the exoskeleton.

Fluids poured forth and an arachnoid-esque scream echoed in the butchery.

More of the matriarchs swarmed me, and it became difficult to tell who was attacking. But they also got in each other’s way, and I felt like the best thing I could do was just hit everything.

So I did.

I swung the hammer out wide, connecting with the thorax of someone and cracking it.

Something went over my head, a huge something that had jumped from the butcher’s area to get behind me.

Keeping the shield against the ground with one arm, I followed the spider’s form with my eyes, whipping the hammer into a hard throw to hit as the jumping spider landed.

Then I pulled out another hammer, which was a damn framing hammer, but it was what I had so I just slammed it down against a fang the size of a toddler coming at my face.

At the same time as I broke the fang in two, I heard the warhammer connect with the sharp snap-goosh of breaking chitin.

My head was pounding, my ability reaching the point where I might have to let go of That’s Not Pain.

I threw the framing hammer at the oncoming spider mom, the hypodermic needle asshole, and grimaced as she batted it from the air. She leapt off the side wall, legs reaching for me, fangs bared and ready to pump me with her venom.

Ducking low, I pulled myself completely behind the shield, and braced for impact. 

She hit.

And was surprisingly heavy.

I sprung, leaping up, forcing her up as hard as I could. I got lucky, putting myself in the right place. The stalactites covering the ceiling pierced the matriarch in what had to be twenty different places, showering me with gore but pinning her spiderness against the ceiling.

My vision blurred, and I stumbled to my right, turning into a dodge and roll to get away from the oncoming leg smash of BruteMother.

But the shield got stuck. Some combination of gore and chitin and the stone floor made it stop rolling, so I stopped rolling.

BruteMother’s huge leg came down on my ribcage.

Insane pressure crashed into my chest, and while I couldn’t feel any direct pain from her hit or her squeezing, I could feel my flesh splitting, caught between the huge leg and my unbreakable bones.

I brought my forearms across in what would have been something along the lines of an arm bar had I been fighting a human opponent, but,in this case, I guess it’d be more of a leg bar. I had her leg held in such a way where I could leverage my arms to put pressure on the leg itself, and I had to hope I could generate enough oomph to either crack her insane chitin, or force her off balance to get her off of me. Because try as I might to wriggle or move under her foot, I couldn’t get out.

Above me, the Meat Puppet Matriach moved forward. BruteMother lunged at Meat Puppet, snapping her fangs and waving her pedipalps threateningly. As if pointedly claiming me as hers.

Which, in that moment, I was.

I was losing.

Both in the external battle against the spiders, and the internal battle against the poison and myself. My ability was running up against its limit — I had to let it go. But when I did, I’d be unconscious. And if I was unconscious, I was spider food. And if I was spider food…

I gritted those metaphorical teeth and held onto my ability, even as I watched my HP drain.

I tried to break the leg.

Nothing.

I tried to lift it.

Nothing.

She’d felt me fighting her, and she managed to push a little harder against me. The skin on the sides of my ribcage ripped apart.

And to make it worse, she was still only paying slight attention to me while fucking around with her sisters.

I had to do something. I had seconds until the matriarchs finished their spat and I got my head popped off.

But my hammer was off to one side, out of reach, my shield was under me, lodged tight.

My hands scrabbled at my sides.

And then the damn BruteMother was looking at me, her mouth parts open wide with excitement as she readied to eat my head.

Something crawled over my face and leapt up onto the spider. Something bright and furry and gone in a blur, because the BruteMother lifted herself away from me in a blur.

I didn’t know what had just saved me, but something did, and I needed to take advantage of the BruteMother’s momentary focus on something else.

In my belt, my hand closed on the Stick.

Small, but it could give me some leverage.

I yanked it from my belt and activated it to the side. Then I tried to pull myself free.

Nope.

I was starting to think there was some extra ability the huge BruteMother had to keep me pinned down.

Whatever that had saved me had done all it could, because as I looked up, all I could see were the BruteMother’s mouth parts returning for my head.

Time for one last play.

I unset the stick, then as the BruteMother opened wide and was about to decapitate me, I shoved my hand and the stick, into her open maw. I went as deep as I could handle, and then pressed the button, fixing the stick in place.

The matriarch halted all forward progression, confused and clearly feeling something wasn’t right.

Then she tried to pull back and, again, felt something off. Probably felt it stuck in place.

She stopped moving, and in that instant, I felt her leg relax just a smidge, enough that I finally managed to shift out from under her foot.

Her eyes followed me as I moved, but she kept her mouth parts, her cephalothorax, her abdomen, everything else completely still.

I was breathing hard, and blood poured liberally out of me, my shirt soaked.

Then I smiled, and put my foot against her cephalothorax.

I pushed.

There was a moment of hesitation, a slight resistance.

So I pushed harder. 

She batted at me with a leg, but she was confused and couldn’t seem to put her full power behind the hit.

I just took the thwack on my back and kept pushing.

Something had to give.

Which, ultimately, turned out to be the organic inners of the matriarch. The stick held in space. And that immovable rod tore her internals apart until I felt the stick hit the inside wall of her carapace.

As soon as that mild thump happened, I grabbed her and pulled. And then I pushed her. And then pulled her. I did the chimichanga with the BruteMother, dancing her around as much as I could, using that glorious Stick to whip her innards into stiff peaks.

She collapsed, mostly, spewing forth a foul melange of guts, gunk, and gore. Which, naturally, went all over me.

I had to wipe a thick layer off my face, then slicked my hair back with all that ichor. I reached inside the corpse and yanked the stick out, then shook the yuck off of as best I could.

The matriarchs, who had already been cowed by BruteMother, stepped back even further as I climbed on top of the corpse of their biggest warrior.

I was high enough, then, that I could tickle the abdomen of the dead matriarch pinned there on the stalactites. It’d be difficult for any but the smallest of the spiders-not-spiders to make it past the body-barricade, no matter which side they chose.

It was an effective block.

And I stood there, another spear out.

Ready to fight.

”Who’s next?” I shouted, and did my utmost to hide the quaver from my voice. I knew I’d gone too far. The amount of pain that was going to hit when the ability finally dropped would break my brain. But as long as I could hold it, I could fight these fuckers, and I could make sure that the people behind me could make it out alive.

There was no response from the matriarchs.

So I threw the spear and drilled Meat Puppet through one of her eyes.

And then I threw another.

And another.

Blinding Meat Puppet, and also making a defacto spear cushion.

She flailed about, trying to get away from me. 

Some of her sisters ran. 

Others seemed to trip up meat puppet before running.

Meat Puppet went down. Very obviously dead.

I shifted targets and threw more spears until the matriarchs were gone. Until it was just dead spiders in the butchery.

I took one more spear out, my entire body shaking with the sheer grit of holding everything back, of keeping the pain and the poison at bay. At the blood still leaking out of me. I slid the spear through my belt and my trousers to brace myself up, knowing it was very likely I’d be little more than a corpse myself in a moment, but I could still look like I was ready to kick ass and take names.

As my vision started to go, as I felt a strange coldness all over my body, I leaned against the spear, and it held. 

And since it held, I let go.

For the briefest of moments, it felt like the entire universe bore down upon me, that I was being squashed under a tidal wave of agony the likes of which I’d never experienced. All I could do was clench my jaw as tight as possible, hoping I could just let the pain take me.

And then, it was black. And in that instant between blackness and nothingness, I felt at peace that this bullshit was all over. And I was no more.

93

In those last moments, I wasn’t really sure what’d happen next. I had three main competing theories. 

One: I’d just die. Disappear into perpetual blackness, or something along those lines.

Two: I’d wake up in the snow on top of the mountain.

Three: I’d start having a conversation with Mister Paul where he’d apologize because he didn’t have the power to bring me back, and I was actually dead. Or something like that.

Mostly, I expected to die.

I didn’t expect to wake up.

Not in a warm bed, looking up at a white ceiling, lit by soft yellow lights. 

I didn’t think there would be furry things laying on top of me, five different snores coming with enough of a rhythm to make me want to check the valve timing. 

I didn’t think I’d smell fresh bread, cookies, chocolate?

But I could. I did.

I heard a child laughing somewhere nearby, a slight giggle going to full-throated, collapsed-on-the-floor laughter that could only come from a toddler. 

Without moving much, I could tell that the things on me were superweasels, woven together in a clump of fur and legs and teeth. They were deep asleep.

I turned my head, and I saw a window. It was sunny outside. There was a tree under the window — I could just see some green leaves waving back and forth. Beyond, I could see mountains, with snowy peaks. My mountains. More laughter. Kids were playing below my window.

I thought about sitting up, but I was so warm, so comfortable, so… not needed, that I didn’t want to ruin things. I wanted to remain in that state as long as I could. Part of me wondered if this was the afterlife. This sense of relaxation didn’t feel natural or possible.

Had my mind broken and this was where I’d parked myself? Was this a construct⁠—

A bee flew into my window.

Five heads snapped up, as all the superweasels focused on the intruder.

”Leave it,” I whispered, feeling that one of them was about to pounce, and probably overshoot and self-defenestrate.

All the eyes whipped to me, and I felt an overwhelming wave of love followed by this mass release of held worry. At which point, they attacked me.

”Gently,” I said, trying to give out scratches and pets equally.

People started arguing on the other side of the door, and I thought about sitting up. I thought more about pretending to be asleep again. But I also had a ton of questions. Why was I here? What had happened? Maybe I could do nothing and then just see what occurred…

The door opened and a face peeked inside.

Maybe a nurse. Maybe a doctor. A healer, though, who wore the Coggeshall crest on her chest.

”Oh,” she said. “Awake at last!”

”He’s awake?” I heard Skeld call out, just as someone tried to push past the nurse.

”Excuse me!” The healer snapped. “Just because he’s awake⁠—“

She shut the door and the argument continued behind it. I could tell that Skeld wasn’t relenting, and, finally, both my chancellor and my doctor came in together.

“I have to be quick,” Skeld said, shooting a dark look at the doctor. “She thinks you’re unable to handle this.”

”I feel,” I paused, testing myself and realizing that I felt fine. Good. “Okay.”

”Good,” the doctor said, sitting down on my beside and putting her hand on my forehead. “No status effects on your sheet?”

I paused, and took a quick look.

”No.”

”And your HP?”

”Full.”

”Good, good,” she said, and she wrote a few things down on a chart she’d pulled off the end of my bed. “Talk already. I’m counting this as part of your time.”

Skeld growled.

”What happened?” I asked.

”I don’t have time to get into all of it⁠—“

”Quick version then.”

“Ragnar, Tarryn, and a few others convinced Fritz to fly them through the storm to help you. We used Fritz to move a sizable force into place, and we managed to evacuate all those who were still alive.”

“And the matriarchs?”

“Mostly dead.”

”Mostly?”

”We believe some may have gotten away. I have sent some rangers out after them.”

”Amber?”

”Not one of them. She’s been, um, uncooperative.”

“What do you mean?”

”She’s mostly been hanging around here. Worried about you.”

”How did, I mean, how am I — I don’t really get what happened.”

”I’m sure she can tell you.”

“Okay, what about the other thing?”

“What other thing?”

“I saw something. tIt, um, maybe saved me from one of the matriarchs, from the BruteMother.”

“What the fuck is a brute mother? I haven’t heard of that⁠—”

“One of the matriarchs.”

“Didn’t we just go over me not knowing about what happened there at the end?”

“I thought you just wanted Amber to tell me.”

“No, I have no real knowledge of what happened there, including this mystery thing that may or may not have saved you from a brute mother. What I do have is something really fucking important I need to speak to you about that Amber or Lee or anyone else here cannot tell you.”

”Let’s both chill, and then you speak to me.”

”Fuck being chill, your grace,” Skeld said, making the ‘your grace’ into such a glorious insult that I was so impressed I couldn’t be mad at him. “There is a royal missive for you.”

”A royal missive? Seriously? Tell Valamir to fuck right off. I’m permanently fucking indisposed.”

”I would if it were Valamir.”

”You can definitely tell Kronth to fuck right off?”

“I could, but being that it was not from Kronth, I fear they would just be confused. Your grace, the Dark Queen of Mahrduhm would like a word. She has invited you to take tea with her, at your earliest convenience.”

“Going to Mahrduhm is not at all convenient.”

“Montana, she’s just outside NorthFort.”

The end of book 16.

READY FOR BOOK 17?

Don’t worry, the Good Guys ain’t done yet. Montana still has a lot of story left to go, and the next book will be coming out soon. Ish.

Truth is, I just don’t know exactly when it’s coming out. However, if you want to find out, pop over here: ericugland.com/latest and that’s gonna tell you what you want to know.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

July 7, 2025

Hells bells, Margarets.

Been a year. This was a damn hard book to write. Tough year for me, for a fair lot of us, I think. I don’t want to get down into the weeds of it all, so I’ll just say that times were tough, and like Billy Ocean said, the tough got going. Which, you know, was my wife. Who definitely kept in moving in a forward direction through it all. But I think I’m out the other side, and I think I’m going to be able to get back to a better writing schedule where I can write more than a book a year.

This book was a bit odd, if only because it needed to serve as the bridge between two larger arcs, and I wanted to wrap up a few of the storylines left dangling out there in the metaphysical winds. It’s the longest of the Good Guys so far, and I really do hope you enjoy this chunk of the ride.

Next up is going to probably be another Bad Guys book, but I’ve got a question: Would you be interested in some other stories in Vuldranni? Maybe follow Bass Reeves as he solves fantastical mysteries around Glaton? Let me know in the discord: here.

Thank you all for reading my stories. I love you all, you make my dreams possible.

Smooches,

Eric

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