10.43 – RNG (Pt. 2)

(This is Part 2 of the 10.43 RNG chapter! Be sure you’re reading in the right order if you’re a Public reader! –pirateaba)

 

 

 

 

Cara O’Sullivan was standing on board the deck of the ship, watching the shores of Baleros growing larger under the pale light of the green moon. She kept her eyes fixed on the continent she’d never wanted to visit.

Baleros, the continent of wars and mercenaries. If she had a top-ten list, it was just above Rhir at the bottom. But here she was. No one else understood her train of logic, and it seemed like some of them had finally had it.

Footsteps on the deck behind her. She spoke without turning her head.

“Thien. Did Greg finally talk you into bothering me?”

The [Drummer] and [Historian], one of the longest members of the band, came to rest on the railings next to her.

“Greg’s just a loudmouth shit, Cara. I can’t believe you didn’t kick him out of the band last tour.”

“Not my fault he became a [Famous Guitarist]. Really leaning on the famous part of his class. Or that he threatened to blow all our covers if we didn’t keep taking him around.”

Thien grimaced. He leaned against the railing, his dark skin glowing faintly green under the unnatural moonlight. Well, unnatural to Earthers. She was used to it by now, but he still cast a glance up at the sky and shook his head.

“I can’t believe we’re going to Baleros. Rae’s still in denial, you know. She thinks we’re just going to hit the port cities and leave.”

“I hope it’ll be that simple.”

Cara was sipping from a canteen. Something magical in the lemon-flavored drink to keep her from being seasick. She hadn’t been feeling too bad—until she’d had to perform in a ship’s cabin a few days ago. The effort and motion had made her sick to her stomach—or maybe it was getting nearer to the continent and the tides changing.

Thien leaned on the railing. He didn’t say anything to her. So she broached the silence. She hated silence; it got so uncomfortable.

“It was supposed to be the New Lands. Izril, mainly. We’d hit First Landing, then go south. Tour the big cities and then the Walled Cities. Liscor…”

“You were going to scout The Wandering Inn, right?”

Her face didn’t change, but Thien knew all her tricks. The [Popstar] and [Thespian] was a gifted actress, but she couldn’t hide everything from him. She didn’t want to, but…

“That’s a no-go after the Winter Solstice.”

“So, what? We’re back to keeping everyone in Safety until we find a nation that fits us? C’mon, Cara. You did a great job getting everyone, but Abebi can’t keep them corralled forever. They’re going to…leave.”

“They’re welcome to leave. It’s not a prison. But Wistram’s going after them, and so are Terandrian nations. I just wish we had some place that worked.”

She spat some of her drink out over the railing; a bug had found its way in. Thien shrugged, uncomfortable.

“Avel was great…”

“I know. But its [King] can’t keep a secret to save his life. Nor can he force other nations or spies to back off. We needed Samal or somewhere that was truly safe. It doesn’t matter. The plan changed, and here we are. Is the band mutinying?”

She’d taken the band with her. She shouldn’t have; she’d told Abebi to stay and mind Safety—because someone had to, because this was dangerous, and because this wasn’t something Cara should be doing.

Not her, the Singer of Terandria. She should be making money back on her continent, but…Thien just stared at her.

“It’s the 4th Princess of Calanfer, right?”

She compressed her lips, and he went on.

“Everyone knows. I was friends with Elena before she went scouting Wistram. I’ve been to Noelictus when we tour—there’s all kinds of stories about you, if you know who to ask. The Singer of Afiele…and the performer of the Synphasia both have stories about them. I think it’s a good idea.”

“But…?”

He leaned on the railing.

“But we’re not going up against the Iron Vanguard or anyone, right, Cara? We’re a band. I’ve hit [Thugs] with my drumsticks, and that’s as close as I want to get to fighting. And what about Erribathe or the nations that’re mad at her—or the [Innkeeper]? Are we getting her too?”

Cara evaded the question.

“She can take care of herself. She is taking care of herself with a Great Company, as far as I know. Besides, we don’t have a ship back just yet. I’ll arrange one once we’ve landed.”

Both Earthers were glancing at the [Captain], who was eying them from where he had taken the wheel. He was quite impressed with her reputation and had even changed course from one continent to another for her, but she had the feeling that he’d be glad to put her on shore. She couldn’t blame him; she had an antsy feeling herself.

I should not be here. But I can’t leave Seraphel. 

Not after what she’d seen. Not her friend. Cara moodily poured the rest of her canteen out over the side of the ship. It was nasty dregs, anyways.

“Should we have, y’know, brought more help, Cara?”

“Like who? It’s hard enough hiring trustworthy bodyguards who’ll leave their continent.”

They had a decent number, but they weren’t fighters and had made that very clear to her. Thien cleared his throat a few times.

“You know…Rolairenes.”

“He’s got his own thing to do. Besides, he’s a one-trick pony.”

“Pretty damn good trick. Okay, let me just say this: I’m down to get this [Princess], but I’d like answers, Cara. Serious ones.”

Thien faced her, and she turned.

“I owe you that, Thien. Rae too, and the others. How many are rioting?”

“Just Greg. I just wish you trusted us more, Cara.”

She felt bad about that, she did. The [Popstar] rubbed at her pink hair.

“It’s less of trust and more of me not having a great plan, Thien. I thought I’d gather up all the Earthers, find a home for us. Well, ‘home’ never appeared. Just Safety. I thought I’d link up with another Earther group, like the United Nations company or someone. But no one had a plan. Not at Wistram, not anywhere else. Nothing Earther-first. Then I thought that the inn would be the place. But look at it now.”

He exhaled.

“Damn. Well, that doesn’t make me feel better. There’s no group of Earthers we can join? Not one?”

She ticked off groups on her fingers.

“Wistram lost most of theirs. Erin’s inn…no go. There’s pockets, but nowhere safe and controlled by us. Rhir treats them like [Heroes], but as far as I can tell, the Blighted Kingdom has them under their thumb.”

“…So are you saying that Safety and our group is the only independent Earther force in the world?”

She felt her stomach lurch again.

“I fucking hope not, Thien. Because what do we have to show for it?”

He shoved her gently.

“You. Let’s say we get this 4th Princess—”

“Seraphel. She knows about us.”

“She does? Well, what about Calanfer?”

“Fuck the royal parents, Thien.”

“Oh. Well—let’s say we get her. Then what?”

Cara stared out across the sea, then turned around to face him. The multi-colored stars were out, and she forced a smile.

“Then I think we at least talk to Erin Solstice. And if we go back to Terandria with her or she goes to the New Lands…I won’t make the band follow her. I think, Thien, after that we tell Safety to vote. And if they think we just go to Avel or Noelictus and choose a side, we do.”

He thought about it.

“In that case, I vote to join The Wandering Inn.”

When her jaw dropped, he grinned at her.

“What? They’ve got a Hobgoblin with a guitar who shreds. Let’s go with Erin Solstice, replace Greg, and just…live there.”

She almost laughed at him, this silly Vietnamese man with too much optimism for her doom and gloom. Cara shook her head.

“Well, let me address the band and tell them a story about Seraphel and me. I owe them that. We should be at port by daybreak according to Captain Thursc. Then, I want us to make a stir like we’re just here for the attention. I’ll do some scouting undercover, and—”

And we’ll just get to Seraphel and make sure she survives. If we can get Ryoka on our side, so much the better. Erin…I’m not so sure about. 

That was the plan. It was a decent plan for the Singer who had come this far purely based on a desire to help her friend Seraphel. It was even a good plan…until she gazed over the starboard bow and saw the ship rising out of the waters.

It shed black liquid silently, and she saw the hull was a pitch-black color as well. Only the faintly-shimmering orange barrier protecting the crew from the sea had any color to it.

Silent. Thien saw Cara’s face change and swung around.

“A ship? What the?”

“Captain! A ship!”

She raised her voice and shouted. The [Captain]’s head swung around from the prow of the vessel, and she saw him jerk in alarm. So she wasn’t the only one who thought that the sudden appearance was—

“Thien, get the band. Tell them there might be tr—”

Cara was already going over the list of songs they could play in her head. They could speed the ship or protect the [Storm Sailors] from the elements. Her band wasn’t helpless. But that sensation of dread still didn’t prepare her for the first volley from the ship.

Wooden panels on the side of it glowed, and huge, magical hooks appeared and shot towards their vessel. They smashed through the hull, and Cara stumbled. The roar of sound was followed by a shout.

“Starboard! Starb—”

A thunk. She peered up, and a [Sailor] plunged head-first past her, onto the deck. Cara saw a black quarrel in his chest.

“Oh. God.”

Thien whispered. Then Cara screamed with a voice to wake the dead—

“WE’RE UNDER ATTACK! SHIP TO STARBOARD!”

She lurched to her feet and pushed him towards the cabins as shouts and screams began. The [Captain] threw the wheel around, shouting.

“They’ve raised red flags! It’s [Pirates]! To arms! Wait…”

His eyes focused on the distant ship dragging itself closer as more grappling-spells shot from their bow. And Cara had seen the same thing.

“Those aren’t fucking [Pirates]. Thien, activate the [Scrying] spells! Call for help!”

She shoved him again, and then the [Drummer] ran. But Cara knew before he came running upstairs to scream that the scrying spell wouldn’t be working. She stared at the black ship as a calm sense of dread filled her.

The ship had risen from the deeps, but it was no Drowned Folk crew on board. They wore no insignia she could see, but their spells and bows rang again and again over the waters. Killing [Storm Sailors] with each volley.

She had seen this vessel before. The Singer finally remembered where. The battle at sea. She uttered one word.

“Rhir.”

 

——

 

One of Lord Hayvon Operland’s best people was [Lieutenant of Pragmatism] Eireth Versh. She waited until they were less than three hundred feet from the ship before speaking.

“[Ship Magus], signal our alarm on all channels. The First Point is under attack by the Bloodtear Pirates. Our vessels are moving to engage, but we are out of position.”

“Sending, Lieutenant.”

More of Rhir’s ships were sailing in from the north, these ones without submersible capabilities. To an observer, it would appear like they were indeed attempting to chase off the [Pirate] ship assailing the vessel. Without scrying spells, no one would have more than a distant view from the harbors.

“Prepare for boarding. [Archers], strike the [Captain]. The Singer of Terandria and her band are to be taken alive at all costs. No other survivors.”

She re-iterated her orders for the benefit of the soldiers who stood ready to board the ship. This wasn’t their primary mission, of course; they were supposed to be transporting their package and aiding in the destruction of the Dyed Lands as well as performing reconnaissance. However, when they’d been informed of the Singer’s presence on The First Point, her orders had changed.

“The [Captain] is deflecting shots, Lieutenant.”

A crisp voice spoke in her ear, and she tapped the speaking stone.

“Understood.”

The archers fired faster, trying to target the obstinate [Storm Captain], but it appeared his Skill was capable of holding off their arrows and bolts. No matter. They were minutes from boarding, and the other ship was being pulled towards theirs. No chance of breaking away.

It wasn’t her first naval battle, but it wasn’t Eireth’s specialty. She disliked uncertainty. So she touched the speaking stone and re-tuned it to another channel.

“Ship’s hold. Status of prisoner?”

“Dreaming, Lieutenant. Still dreaming. No fluctuations in the spell latices. Should we move to deploy?”

There was a hint of eagerness in that voice she didn’t like. They wanted to see what would happen. Eireth had seen what happened.

“Keep him that way. Boarding party, [Advantaged Blow]. Prepare for ramming—!”

They were larger than the carrack by a good margin, and her ship was loaded with Rhir’s [Soldiers], who stood in ranks, ready to stride over [Light Bridges]. The [Storm Sailor] crew were being suppressed, hiding behind cover.

A perfect assault…except for the presence of the Singer of Terandria. She was standing behind the mast of the ship, and Eireth saw her head poke out, pink hair shining in the moonlight.

“Stunning spell, hit the Singer.”

A [Battlemage] took aim, but she just ducked back into cover, and the spell harmlessly splashed on the mast. Eireth didn’t like it. There were far fewer options to neutralize someone at range without harming them…

“Lieutenant, [Threat Forecast]! Sound!”

“[Silencing] sp—”

Her people were good. The spells were already going up as Eireth shouted. She relaxed as the Singer’s head poked out from behind the mast. Then she activated her Skill, or at least, the [Lieutenant] assumed she did.

The waves rolling past her ship shivered, then fragmented into sprays of water. Eireth felt her own ship vibrating slightly and saw the Singer’s mouth was open. Whatever it was seemed loud—the Storm Sailors had hands over their ears, and she saw a fallen sword juddering across the deck.

Upon contact, paralysis! Eireth signalled to the [Mages] next to her, and they nodded. She lifted her hand; the ships were close enough now to activate [Light Bridge]. As soon as the Singer stopped singing, they’d attack.

Her hand rose and stayed up for five seconds. Ten…Eireth frowned as the vibrations through her boots grew louder. Now she saw the Singer more closely, it didn’t seem like Cara O’Sullivan was singing. It more looked like she was screaming…

There was a faint—wailing sound in Eireth’s ears. She felt at them and glanced at the [Battlemages] enforcing [Mass Silence]. They were casting, eyes locked on the Singer. But the sound was growing louder. And louder—

Eireth studied the Singer and moved to signal to attack—when the silencing spells tore and the [Wail of the Banshee] blasted her and everyone on board her ship.

The sound—! Eireth nearly clapped her hands to her ears as her entire body felt like something was vibrating it from inside out. The ship was shuddering—she pointed.

“Board and silence her!”

No one heard, but Rhir’s [Soldiers] were charging over [Light Bridges] already. However, the Singer’s voice—she turned, and the Lieutenant saw a cone of force sweep through the air and blast one [Light Bridge]. The spell shattered as the Blighted Kingdom’s warriors were hurled into the surf.

Dead gods, the Singer had the power to send objects flying? Despite herself, Eireth hesitated—this was on par with the [Heroes]’ abilities! But she hadn’t appeared in Rhir, had she?

No wonder I was given the order to claim her for the Blighted Kingdom! The [Lieutenant of Pragmatism] shouted.

“Advance! Stop her! [Squad: Haste]!”

[Soldiers] sped up, dodging another cone of sound, but the [Storm Sailors] rose from their hiding places and began to fight. Sea-faring fighters against Rhir’s own.

The Blighted Kingdom should have killed them fast, despite the [Storm Sailors] fighting on their own ship, but the [Captain] swung the wheel, and his ship rocked, splintering more [Light Bridges] and sending [Soldiers] plunging into the water.

“Press the attack!”

More and more [Soldiers] were advancing, heedless of the obstacles. But the Singer kept screaming—and Eireth feared actual hearing damage now. Even so, she saw a [Storm Sailor] fall as three black arrows sprouted from one eye. Her people were on deck now, and the Singer’s voice faltered.

She gasped for air as they surged towards her, then tried to scream again. Movement at the cabin doors—someone hurled a [Soldier] back with a heavy impact, and Eireth threw up a hand.

“[Halt Action]! Earthers, do not harm!”

The [Soldier] froze, and a second mallet hit him so hard he dropped, but the Earther, Thien, was safe and kept swinging his drumsticks around. She heard music from below, possibly empowering the crew…

The Singer. Some kind of barrier was surrounding her, blocking the spells the [Mages] were trying to disable her with. She drew in breath, but her wail was gone. Then she began to sing another song.

Eireth simply plugged her ears with cloth, knowing that her forces were doing the same. Charm or other effects wouldn’t work on them. She saw her [Soldiers] killing surrendering [Storm Sailors] on the deck and nodded.

Then the [Storm Sailor] with three arrows lodged in his eye sat up and jumped on top of one of her people. He ripped a gorget off one of the [Soldiers]’ throats—then the throat as well.

Ghoul. The surprised [Soldiers] were suddenly under attack—their own deceased and the ship’s dead crew were rising! The [Captain] wasn’t doing it—he backed away as more undead threw themselves at Eireth’s people. The [Lieutenant] just gazed at the Singer.

She could raise the dead and use magic with her voice? Small wonder Eireth’s superiors wanted her so badly. This woman should have been summoned to Rhir’s soil! Eireth clenched a fist, then relaxed. As soon as possible, she intended to return to Rhir where the only battle that mattered was taking place.

 

——

 

The dead were rising, but it wasn’t enough. Her trump card that had saved her so many times—the [Soldiers] just hacked down their own number and kept coming. She’d seldom seen such efficient killers. The crew, the [Captain]—

They ran him through as Cara backed up on the deck, the [Sailors] still alive fighting around her. She was trying to deflect spells and arrows, raise the dead, and debilitate them all at once.

She had more Skills than just her [Wail of the Banshee]. [Fame is My Magic]. [Melody of Flames]. [Song of Rejuvenation]—

She was activating them all. Flames appeared like burning stars, igniting [Soldiers] of Rhir, and lightning crackled overhead as the [Storm Sailors] fought harder around her.

But she was just one person. One—and her magic was up against dozens of [Battlemages]. She wasn’t a warrior.

And she had no champion. No ghostly [Knight]. No hero to fight for her.

Her voice was weakening. Cara was staring up at the sky, hoping someone was watching, but if this was Rhir, they weren’t going to leave witnesses. Some of the [Sailors] were shouting at the approaching vessels, but they all had the same black hulls. No help there, just more death.

God, what a mistake. She should have never done this—but she hadn’t thought they’d come after her like this. Cara’s voice was hoarse as she drew breath for one final scream. She saw the black armored bodies surging up the stairs of the deck—and falter.

Cara’s voice caught in her lungs. It felt like a hand was squeezing, squeezing her lungs. A knife’s edge of terror forced her juddering heart to halt, and her head turned.

On board the Blighted Kingdom’s ship…she felt something wake up. And then it was like someone was holding a knife to her throat. A feeling she’d felt before—she touched her throat and gasped.

“Who—who’s laughing?”

The [Sailors] cast around. They couldn’t hear it—but there was laughter in her ears. Was that an aura?

It was like pure madness—she saw the figures turning, and the rush from the other ship reversed. Someone, a female voice, was shouting orders.

“Surpress—Lord—fall back!”

A [Lord]? Then, there was a press of bodies around one of the stairwells. Cara saw the bodies pressing together fall about. She swore she saw a flash of silver—then red.

Something sliced through the bodies, and the spray of blood coated the black hardwood decks. She saw a smile flash across her eyes. Her head jerked, and it was burned in her vision. She was shivering—

“What is that?”

Then the laughter was surging across the decks, a man’s high-pitched voice. She saw a figure, thin and dressed in a ridiculous, colorful suit, turn, knives in his hands.

Cara laid her eyes on the first [Hero] of Rhir she’d ever met a moment before he began to kill the [Soldiers] around him. A laughing madman wrapped in steel and insanity.

A [Clown].

 

——

 

The voice woke me. So I killed my way out of the dreams. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know who I’m killing.

A thousand Demons are screaming at me. It’s a funny trick. Is this reality? Is this another dream?

Eireth. I swear I hear her voice. But I don’t care. 

Blood on the ground, in my mouth, on the floor. I turn, and the skies are a thousand eyes. The ground…is rolling. Where am I?

I hear a voice. Something real in this endless night. Kill that, kill the faceless marionettes with blades in front of me.

It’s so easy. They wave their blades, and my knives swing through them all. I leap, throw my blades, and pull more from their hands.

Still laughing. I can’t stop. I see another…hill…and now they all look like my friends. I plant my blade in Richard’s eye and twist—that’s the only thing that’s real.

If I’m awake. Have to think they made a mistake. Or else it’s just who they want me to kill.

The voice. Towards the voice. A singing Demoness with pink horns. She screams, and I hear it—

Hear it through everything. A female voice, screaming at me, and I luxuriate in the truth of the sound. But it’ll kill me.

—So I leap through the air. Grab that arm, and a blade slashes across my ribs. I’m laughing as I toss her from the hill into the ground that rolls and vanishes. 

Instinct. Madness. Everything else appears the same. So I kill the Demons in front of me, the ones behind me.

Friends.

Children.

They look the same, and I can hear Eireth telling me to stop—I put my foot on the edge of the cliffs behind me, grinning at her as she appears out of the mists. Raising her hands. 

Someone shoots me in the knee.

“I used to be a [Warrior] before that.”

No one gets the joke. I’m laughing. I spread my arms as she reaches for me.

She told me Emily was dead. Expected me to cry, if I even believed her.

I take a step back as well and—

Swear I’ll kill them all.

 

——

 

By the time ships were able to investigate the wreck of the ship assailed by the Bloodtear Pirates, there was no evidence aside from a huge amount of fish devouring the dead bodies.

…No armor or weapons to be found, which wasn’t thought of as suspicious by the [Harbormaster] until several inquiries had him sending [Fishers] and [Divers] to confirm that was the case.

But his hands were preoccupied with the Blighted Kingdom’s ships, who were unloading passengers. The [Lieutenant], Eireth, practically strode off her ship, so intent on heading out of the city. He supposed that was Rhir for you and thought little of the incident except to wonder why the Bloodtear Pirates would slaughter an entire crew including the Singer of Terandria.

They did that—but such a beloved person? Then again, perhaps she’d survived? No one could confirm seeing her die.

There the matter rested. Aside from a quiet request from Tulm the Mithril to the Seer of Steel to have any ships available investigate the matter—but he was unable to move from the New Lands where Dullahans were disembarking and felt frustrated.

Another, more direct message came from Elvallian to the Blighted Kingdom. It was addressed to King Othius IV from the Titan of Baleros. Of course, it was vetted by countless [Strategists] and other members of the court, but the message was a one-line sentence that eventually did reach the Blighted King.

 

What are you doing in my territory?

 

No response was sent back. Not that the Titan of Baleros had been holding his breath. Niers Astoragon sat and tapped his fingers on the chess board he was no longer using, then turned.

“Send Wil and Yerranola with Erin Solstice’s party. Tell them that the Singer of Terandria is either on board those ships…or those screams they heard from the harbor mean she escaped. Hand Wil a copy of my notes on Rhir for senior [Strategists].”

Atmodeca, his [Seneschal], nodded, and the Crocodile Beastkin stepped away.

“At once, Lord Astoragon.”

 

——

 

When Cara opened her eyes and found a seagull pecking at her hair, she realized she was badly sunburnt. Also, alive. She sat up on the beach, searched around, and began swearing.

 

——

 

It was another difficult day. A bad day, he would have said…but he had lived through truly bad days. Having a bird rip a leg off didn’t even rank in his Top 10.

No, these were just unpleasant. And it seemed, again, as if he should say that such days and nights had increased in number, but his memory was too good. Being an adventurer and then a young [Strategist] leading mercenaries meant he had wept all his tears long ago.

Niers Astoragon had buried every companion he’d loved and known save for Foliana and precious few others. His best officers and friends in the Forgotten Wing company were former enemies—and children like Perorn all grown up.

No—it was just disappointing. That was the word for it. He felt like he had earned, or won, the right to more pleasantness. At least some calm. Instead, he was once more up against multiple foes. Watching the Jungle Tail company, revived, eating pieces of his territory. Fighting the Dyed Lands, witnessing the scramble for the New Lands, and wondering when the next continental war would begin and whether his company would be in a position to weather the storm.

But not just the big things. Big things he could accept and even pat himself on the back for being in a position where the Forgotten Wing company were players on the board. It was the small things.

Small…like thinking you were going to meet someone you’d put a lot into. Too much, really. Imagination and hopes and—too much for her to ever live up to. If it was even appropriate.

But it wasn’t even her. Or was it? Was he mistaken? Now the doubts came, but that just added to the—disappointment. He’d hoped and, again, been reminded why you didn’t do that. He felt like a young fool, only he was far too old for this.

Small things. All the excitement of a new world tarnished by children being turned into pawns and soldiers. Having to play unkind hands against their ideals and finding bodies.

Or rather, not even bodies. More than he’d told Erin, Ryoka, or the United Nations company. Baleros was a harsh continent, and he couldn’t confirm if they were an Earther or a random Human. Or whether something worse had happened to them and been covered up. Roshal, hungry Lizardfolk, bandits—the jungle was a damn kindness.

The Titan of Baleros had been drinking, true, but the final straw had been this evening’s events. It wasn’t even someone he knew—it was just depressing.

Bloodtear Pirates. Go suck on a stickbug. Every [Storm Captain] and [Sailor] worth their salt who looked into that supposed raid would realize it wasn’t them. But there wasn’t any proof.

There never was. What got Niers was that they hadn’t even had the decency to be subtle about it. They didn’t have to. They just erased an entire crew, captured or killed the Earthers, and that was it.

And he couldn’t do anything about it. Rather, he could, but for reasons even Foliana could articulate, he wouldn’t. Niers had thought about it. He’d thought about everything. Killing the King of Destruction.

Making contact with the Demons and trying to get ahold of some truths.

Invading Terandria.

Even put a few plans into motion only to watch them fail. That was…fun. Making a difference felt like forward motion. Watching a ship burn and knowing he had to be silent made him feel like he was sinking into the mud. Drowning in disappointment.

It makes me want to pack up shop. Pull up the stakes, hand the reins off to Perorn, or just let them figure it out and lead a crusade, Terandrian-style, at something. Head over The Last Tide. March on the next country that thought it was funny to take Fraerlings hostage, like that story about Samal and the Fraerlings in cages.

Just burn a hole straight out of the world and rip a page out of the history books. Of course, it wouldn’t topple any true systems. He’d done it before; it never did. But dead gods and cats…it made a difference for the nation that vanished.

It was the same feeling that he thought, on dark nights, that had driven Flos Reimarch to becoming the King of Destruction. Or perhaps not; Flos was an actually principled man, even if it was all ego. Perhaps…this was the feeling of Goblin Kings.

The Titan of Baleros was sitting on his desk, tossing a few items in his bag of holding for his campaign. He didn’t really have a focus; anything he wanted would be sent after him. He wanted to go with Erin, Ryoka, and Geneva to Oelnnox and face that mess. He wanted to shake Erin by the shoulders or drop Iuncuta Eirnos and a full strike team on Jungle Tails’ heads. But he couldn’t.

So, the tired Titan of Baleros stood there, counting pairs of socks and wondering if eleven was enough. Dress socks, enchanted socks…it used to be you just hoped you had enough socks. He was so tired that when he turned and saw the door, he just ignored it.

Niers Astoragon walked past the door that stood upright, despite having no hinges or anything supporting it, next to a map of Baleros. He found another pair of socks and tossed them into his bag of holding. Then his head turned back.

“…Hm?”

The door was gone. The Titan rubbed at his eyes, then went back to picking out socks. And oh so carefully, he adjusted his belt and made sure the enchanted dagger was ready to throw. When he turned around with some boxers, the door was standing in the center of his table.

“Ah.”

This time, he walked around it and triggered a silent alarm on one of his rings. A door appearing in his chambers meant whomever had sent it had bypassed enough security measures to make even Foliana trip up.

But he didn’t sense instant danger…the Titan inspected the carvings on the stone door.

“Hm. Harpy. The Death of Wings? If you’re here, announce yourself. I’m in a bad mood.”

The tiny Fraerling’s head swept around, and his stare left a streak of soot on the maps on his blackboard, the table with the chess board. He waited—then counted.

“…nineteen…twenty…ah, fuck. Someone’s taken the citadel.”

He grabbed his sword. That alert should have had a response in five seconds or less. How many of his people were dead? They’re going after Erin. Get to the Fraerways, then Foliana. Activate—

Seneschal Atmodeca leapt into his rooms, wielding two toothed swords from the Beastkin tribes, and Niers heard a response in his ears.

“Lord Astoragon, Foliana is on her way!”

He blinked—turned—and the door was gone. Niers saw Atmodeca sweep around amazingly fast; the Crocodile Beastkin woman could move like her animal ancestors when she chose to, all speed and reaction. He frowned—then the hatch in the Fraerways blew open.

“[Mark All Targets]! Two?”

Iuncuta Eirnos and a full squad of Fraerlings wielding crossbows sighted and stopped, searching for an enemy they couldn’t see. Niers felt a finger touch his shoulder that neither Atmodeca nor the Fraerlings noticed.

Foliana. But even she didn’t react at the speed she should have. Niers spoke, frowning.

“There was a door with Harpy markings on it. Slow reactions, Iuncuta.”

“We were here in ten seconds, Lord Astoragon! Harpy? The Demons? Spread out and check for magic! [Mages], what do you sense?”

She barked at him. Niers saw more [Soldiers] appearing, and on a hunch, he frowned and touched his ear.

“Operator. How fast was your response time?”

“Four seconds, Lord Astoragon. Is this a test? Your code, please.”

He rattled it off and assured them this time wasn’t a test. He’d done this before, but…Niers frowned.

“I counted twenty-four. Time-stop. We’re up against [Chronomancers], perhaps. Or the Skill has a time slow embedded.”

Even the Fraerlings gaped at him, aghast, but Foliana just poked him gently again, signalling she got it.

What the hell can do that? The list was narrowing, but his first thought was…Nereshal? The Blighted Kingdom wasn’t that pissy though. Unless there was more to that ship attack?

Bogleraums?

Cats, he wished he hadn’t thought of that. The Titan swung around and gazed at Atmodeca, who was waiting for his opinion.

“I think I was hit with a Skill. A door appeared for me to enter. Some kind of negotiation or contract-type Skill. Perhaps the Blighted King.”

“Don’t enter it!”

Eirnos snapped at him as if she could give him orders. Niers just spoke to Foliana.

“It felt rather safe.”

Her third poke with the tip of a knife indicated she thought his instincts sucked. But now, Niers was waiting. Once, twice…do we get a third try? He pulled something out of his pocket and began flipping it in the air.

A coin. Just a tiny coin—Fraerling money from Rozcal’s city. Niers had no use for coins, but the glittering piece of worked gemstone flashed in the air. He flipped it a few times as he spoke, asking for [Mages] who could analyze Skills.

“I know it’s a Level 40+ spell, but I heard there were magics that could detect this kind of thing, Eirnos. Do you have any specialists? I—ah.”

Niers stopped talking and glanced up. The Fraerling coin hung in the air like a little star, the light reflecting off it. He turned, and Atmodeca was frozen, sweeping a hand over his desk, a giant woman. Niers turned back.

“Last chance, one supposes.”

The door. He could just let it go, and he bet whomever was sending it would get tired, but that didn’t fit his style. Most Skills like these, even if they were traps, had rules.

You don’t get a free time-stop with Skills meant to just kill you. Unless, of course, this was coming from a Level 70+ [Harpy Empress], in which case she might murder him dead. But that would beg the question why the Death of Wings thought he was worth murdering.

Maybe the door was faked to let him think it was Harpies? But if so, then you were faking a Skill. Nothing for it but to open it; he wasn’t getting more information from the façade of the door, and he did a circuit; it always faced him such that he couldn’t see the back of it.

Niers thought all this in eleven seconds. Nine left. He checked his sword and pulled out a scroll from his bag of holding and tucked it into a holster in his belt. Then he did an inventory of his equipped rings and made a firing order of spells.

And then…he reached for the latch handle and thought that if this was a fake, most idiots wouldn’t know what a Harpy door handle looked like. And that this was the perfect lure for him.

He shouldn’t have opened it. He was needed. If he died, so many bad things happened…but this door was the call to adventure, to danger. He had to open it. The Titan of Baleros reached for the handle and casually swung it open.

He stared into the empty blackness of the void and saw the strange brick path leading towards the distant gazebo. He breathed out, once, and then took a step forwards.

He had observed that he could ignore the door—that his levels and Skills meant he could even refuse it. Even now, he felt like he could step back if he wanted to. Though the effort was increasing with each passing moment.

I outlevel whoever this is. It still could be the Blighted King. Niers glanced over one shoulder, intending to send a message to whomever was here. Then he blinked. Stared up at something and smiled.

“Sorry. But I have to know.”

He walked through the door as it slowly swung shut behind him. Then, the Titan of Baleros realized that this strange place wasn’t empty. There was, in fact, a distant figure standing at that gazebo sinking through the void of reality.

She had brown hair. The Titan stumbled slightly on the path. He stared ahead, and his mind told him that it was like every other time: a mistake, a disguise, an illusion, a disappointment. His feet took him onwards.

 

——

 

Everything was strange about this time. She should have known it would be…but this was the first and only time she found herself waiting in the room.

Waiting—and chatting with the Pavilion of Secrets. Pavilion-Erin was watching the figure striding towards them. The real Erin Solstice was sitting.

“I didn’t know someone could refuse it like that.”

“They seldom do. This time is…unique. You’re amidst high-level people. Sheta never experienced this, but she was careful.”

Pavilion-Erin sounded—intent. Her eyes were on the door and the man. Erin Solstice just coughed into one hand.

Three times. She felt her heart pounding. The [Pavilion of Secrets] frowned.

“Ah, he finally noticed the rules. He’s got them in his hand.”

“I thought you beamed them into their heads?”

“Not this one. Do you want me to stay around?”

Erin frowned at Pavilion-Erin.

“You can do…no. No, not for this.”

“As you wish. I have something to—to do. This will be interesting.”

Oh yes. Erin Solstice saw her image vanish. Then it was just her, and she couldn’t quite see the road, so she craned her head. Glanced at the chess pieces on the board. She’d set them up with her as black, her opponent as white, but suddenly she thought this was so clichéd and stupid.

Act cool and sit here? They knew each other.

They were strangers.

He was perhaps the most dangerous man she had ever met. She owed him a great favor.

Part of her feared him.

She could have not told him anything, but Nerry had said he suspected her.

She wanted to meet him.

Erin Solstice owed the Titan that.

So she stood slowly, pushing herself up from the table, because just waiting for him to arrive was silly too. Her head rose, and the first thought that [The Wandering Innkeeper] had, when she saw Niers Astoragon in the flesh, was…

Hey, he’s pretty tall, actually.

The man who came walking across the brick path leading to the gazebo would have actually been a pretty tall Human—and it was Human he appeared to be to her. Or maybe she was just Fraerling-sized?

Or perhaps…this was how he saw himself. Because for the first time, she felt as if she could sense his will, his very aura, swirling into the [Pavilion of Secrets]. Changing it ever-so-slightly.

The Titan of Baleros was reading from a sheaf of papers in one hand, head bowed. He was walking straight to the gazebo, not following the slightly meandering road. He was, in fact, stepping through the void on a path of his own, not on the bricks.

No one had ever tried that. But he did it without even noticing, reading the papers in one hand. He was so engrossed in them that when he glanced up, he was barely ten feet from the steps. Then he stopped.

“Hey. Sorry about the late hour.”

She spoke without thinking, no grand pronouncement in mind. She should have said something fitting for their relationship, something to mark this moment. But the [Innkeeper] just smiled wearily.

The [Strategist] stood there, inspecting her, his face one of utter surprise. He blinked, lowered the papers, and spoke.

“You’re the real one. That is—I swore I saw a fake just now.”

She gazed at him. His voice was hoarse, and he seemed nervous to approach. She beckoned slightly.

“You’ve got good eyes. That was, um, the Skill.”

“Ah. A sentient Skill?”

Niers didn’t approach. Erin nodded.

“Wait, you’ve heard of them? It’s, uh, me, by the way. Erin.”

“Yes. You know who I am.”

She nodded. He just inspected her.

“What is the name of the Skill, if I may ask? I’ve heard rumors of Skills this powerful, but never…was this your Level 50 Skill?”

The [Innkeeper] blinked. He was interrogating her? And—she saw his eyes flick to his notes—

Was he testing the rules already? She glanced over her shoulder at the chess board and felt like water was rushing around her. As if she were in the presence of a Grandmaster of chess from her world—and she had met them. But not, well, just a ‘Grandmaster’ of chess.

Something more.

 

——

 

A word on chess.

According to the FIDE (the international chess governing body) ranking, the highest-ranking chess players were Grandmasters or International Masters as a rank below that. You could also get titles like World Champion, but anyone who ever hit that rank was a Grandmaster already.

Maybe a dozen players had won the World Chess Championship as International Masters…the point was that they were the best. Erin, back when she’d been on Earth, hadn’t been nearly good enough to even approach that level. She’d been considered a prodigy as a child, then gotten back into chess—still enough to be considered one of the best in the world, but that was comparing a molehill to mountains in terms of ability.

Still, she’d met them. A few of them. The feeling that she got from Niers Astoragon was like that of sitting down and facing a Grandmaster. But again—not just like meeting them.

Grandmasters were people too. They got mad, they told jokes, they were silly, and once you got past their reputation, you just saw people. Incredibly gifted players of chess, but it didn’t make them geniuses.

Chess was just a game. That was what Erin Solstice knew. Everyone else put so much into it. ‘If you’re good at chess, you must be smart. Chess is like strategy!’

It…was like chess. The pattern recognition, practice, reading your opponent, and skills that you honed through chess could apply to lots of stuff, but it was still, ultimately, only chess. Or at least, Erin hadn’t heard of a chess Grandmaster being asked to general an army or solve math equations.

You had to be careful to remember that. People cheated in chess. The players could be petty, silly, stupid—or the opposite, of course. But you couldn’t know who they really were until you sat down at a board against them and they played you.

Really played you. No amateur could bring a Grandmaster out on the board. They could beat you blindfolded, drunk, and half-asleep because there was no competition. But when they were sharp, well-rested, at the top of their games, motivated…then you saw them.

 

——

 

That was what Erin meant in her head when she felt like a river was rushing past her, the sensation of meeting a Grandmaster. It was the feeling she got from the Titan of Baleros, the world’s greatest living [Strategist]. Focus. Intelligence, thoughts swirling around him so loud and coherent she could almost hear them.

The Titan of Baleros was gazing at her. Directly at her, testing her. Testing this place, and he was not merely good at chess. His company was one of the greatest fighting forces in the world, and he had been a Named-rank adventurer, a leader of armies. It all pressed at her—and he didn’t even have a mastery of his aura. It was just him revealed in the Pavilion of Secrets. A tiny, subtle knife so sharp it would cut through you if you reached for it.

And yet, the [Innkeeper] had been here before. She leaned on the white wooden railings of the gazebo and inhaled the air, which was neither cold, still, nor really air but simply the void itself.

She stared past Niers, into forever’s darkness, and then smiled down at him. The rushing river of his intensity broke around her smile. She knew he had every right to be suspicious, to question, and she owed him this.

But even so, she reminded him of his manners.

“Before I answer that, I think this is the part where you introduce yourself.”

She called down to him, and the [Strategist] blinked. His mouth opened, and then he coughed into one hand. Folded the papers up and stuck them under an armpit. Then felt for a hat he wasn’t wearing and said—

“Ah. I am Niers Astoragon, the Titan of Baleros, Second-in-Command of the Forgotten Wing company. Last surviving son of Laismosz the Praeriehome. And you are Erin Solstice, the [Innkeeper] of The Wandering Inn. Aren’t you?”

He gazed up at her, and she smiled and nodded. Then she reached up and a waterfall of burning colors painted her hat, which she swept off her head. She bowed slightly and straightened.

“That’s me. And this is the [Pavilion of Secrets]. I invited you here because…I think I owe you a chat. No. I wanted to speak to you, Niers. That’s the truth.”

Though it was the [Pavilion of Secrets]…he didn’t believe her. He walked forwards slowly and rested a hand on the gazebo’s staircase.

“May I come up?”

“Please do. I’ve got a seat ready for you and everything.”

She gestured to the chessboard, and Niers halted when he saw it. He peered at her with such a curious expression on his face, and he glanced back at the door from which she could see a dark room, still cracked open.

“What’s wrong?”

When he hesitated too long, the [Innkeeper] asked, and the Titan eyed her.

“It’s…simply that if I were going to choose a trap for myself, I’d probably make it look like this.”

He murmured, and she inspected him. The [Innkeeper] slowly nodded as her smile faded, and she stood there, wondering what to say. Then her lips quirked upwards, and she walked over to the chess table. Casually, she swept the pieces off of it. Niers jumped and reached for a sword at his side as the pieces bounced to the floor of the gazebo or fell into the aether and vanished. Erin leaned over the table and beckoned.

“I wouldn’t blame you for thinking that. The last time you tried to meet me, a bird ate your leg, right? You opened the door anyways. Don’t fear me, Niers. I think I wanted to meet you to thank you, because I need help, and because I know you’re smart and I must plan ahead. But I also think I wanted to meet you so you could judge me. It feels like everyone I meet is afraid of me or thinks I’m silly. But you won’t do that.”

She glanced up at him, and the Titan stood there, frozen a second, before walking over. He sat down, glancing at her, taking in her hair, her arms, the scar around her neck…and she wondered what he saw of her.

 

——

 

The Titan of Baleros saw many things. But it was mostly what he didn’t see—the truth behind the illusions. When you built someone up in your head before meeting them, you imagined them to be all kinds of things.

Taller than they were, or more eloquent. You saw the pieces of them that you glimpsed, and so if you placed them too high, they always let you down. So it was true—

He saw no genius mind, all sharp blades of intellect. She didn’t approach him like someone dueling with a sword of wit. Nor was she a warrior.

Niers was a warrior. Erin didn’t sit ready to move or with the air of someone who had confidence in her body to execute what she willed.

She was, even, not a leader. Someone who thought of her people and who spoke and acted as the face, the pillar, the center of a group, whose limbs could be that of a nation. Who read rooms and minds with ease, and who inspired others to follow with their very presence.

Erin was an [Innkeeper]. Her class did not lie. But nor did she disappoint Niers Astoragon. He had thought, in the fake Erin he had met, that he had found a truth behind her, the warrior unveiled by fighting and the battles at sea, a jagged blade.

But this stranger wasn’t one for all she had so many scars. Nor was she a [Survivor], someone who had endured the unimaginable.

She was, instead, like a piece of glass. A prism, and the lens of light that shone in this place without a sun reflected those rays of her. Strategist and general, leader and builder. But he wasn’t sure what she was, not quite. She didn’t fit in the neat boxes he’d built for so many people over the years. Not even in three boxes.

[Innkeeper] was a good class for her, because he had no idea what she was.

If he had come in here like a rushing river of suspicions and fears, seeking information like a hungry bank overflowing, water flooding into every crack and crevasse, a tidal wave of inquisition—she just sat there.

Her flaming hat was the most magical thing about her, and when it vanished, she was just a young woman with patchy, white hair, discolored in places, fallen out in others, scars on her arms. Around her neck and on her wrists.

She seemed like she had gone through lifetimes. When she smiled at him as he sat down across from the table, Niers saw what he had always seen:

A wonderful mystery. As if even Erin Solstice didn’t know what might happen next, what she might say or do or think. A confidently vague mountain sitting in a world of mists. Waiting for life to hand her something else.

A mountain of experiences, each one built up on her regrets and failures and desires. Ready for her to collapse it to pave a path across the sea if need be.

Ah, there was her danger. The Titan smiled at last and inspected the table, then twisted around.

“Thank you for inviting me here. May I ask a few questions, or have I missed other niceties?”

Her hazel eyes twinkled faintly at him.

“I suppose we know each other well enough for you to ask. I hope I didn’t alarm you with the door. When you rejected it, I wasn’t sure if I was bothering you in a battle or something. It doesn’t affect you until the Skill ends. You just wake up—”

“And remember. Yes, the notes said.”

He’d pulled the notes out and was glancing at them. Erin peered at them, then stood up.

“Hey, can I see those?”

“You don’t know what they say?”

She edged around the table.

“Nnnnope. I mean, I know the rules, sort of. But I’ve never felt what it’s like to have the door come for me. Hey! This is written out really nicely.”

He coughed into one fist.

“I suspect it came to me in a way I found most understandable. So you’ve invited people in here?”

She glanced sidelong at him, and he was amazed he was taller than she was. Did it mean she was a Fraerling or was it just the property of the room? He could reach out and touch her if he raised a hand.

Niers did not. Erin nodded absently.

“Just a few people to see how it worked and then to tell some friends I was alive. I had it for a while…but I didn’t know how to activate it. I thought I’d have to get back to my inn or something. And I was busy not dying.”

“Ah. As a Fraerling?”

Another sideways glance. Erin nodded.

“I should’ve known you’d figure out what was going on.”

“Well, I met your imposter. Ah. You’re aware you have an imposter, right?”

“Mm.”

She frowned at the notes and then turned a page.

“Hey, it says here, ‘no harm shall come to you by any means save your own’. Does that mean you can, like, punch yourself in here?”

Niers cleared his throat.

“I suspect it means that you could activate a mental Skill or some other effect that might harm you, especially if it was something like accelerating your mind at cost. But it certainly seems as though you could trick someone into injuring themselves.”

“Or you could punch yourself in the face.”

Erin nodded to herself, and Niers felt a touch—exasperated. Which also reminded him that his relationship with her had rather been like that. She could be silly. Remember, it’s an act. I think.

“Doubtful.”

“No, you go ahead and try it.”

“…Why don’t you?”

Erin gave Niers a very serious look.

“I don’t want to. Also, this paper lies a bit. You can’t hurt people, but you can touch them. Plenty of ways to cause people discomfort.”

She paused and then shivered softly. Niers nodded, eyes on Erin.

“I promise that isn’t my intent, Erin. I’m simply here to ask questions.”

She peered at him like an owl—and then poked Niers in the side.

It was so fast that he jumped and slapped her hand by reflex. Neither action truly hurt the other; but Niers had definitely felt the poke. Erin sidled to her side of the chess table, then peered at her seat.

“Darn. And here I thought we were going to talk and hang out. Instead, this is like training for the Quarass. Phooey.”

Rather than sit down, she went to the benches that encircled the inside of the gazebo and lay down on them! Niers half-rose, then cleared his throat.

“The Quarass of Germina? I wouldn’t talk to her. If there was any person who could manipulate this place and you—she would be the most dangerous.”

His tongue seemed to twist in his mouth, and Niers hesitated—then the truth compelled him to add—

“Aside from the Blighted King, the Death of Wings, or Emir Yazdil, that is.”

She glanced up at him, as if realizing he’d had to add that. Erin put her feet up on the open window of the gazebo, which meant her back was on the bench. It was an attempt to appear casual, but it seemed highly uncomfortable, and she managed it for about six seconds before sitting crosslegged and scowling at him.

“You don’t tell me what to do, Niers. I need to talk to her, and the Quarass is like…the second-worst at best.”

“Who’s first?”

“Noneya.”

“Noneya? I don’t know that n—”

Niers’ mind, sharp as an Adamantium blade, caught up with the word right as Erin pointed at him.

“Noneya business! Hah!”

She stared at him. He stared back. Erin lowered her fingers. Coughed.

“I guess it’s some of your business. But I’m going to talk to other people whether you think it’s a good idea or not. Besides, I’m not the one opening random doors.”

She folded her arms triumphantly, and he fought for control of his features. Then realized…he was trying not to smile.

When the Titan smiled, actually smiled genuinely for a moment, he thought Erin Solstice relaxed. Certainly, she gave him one of her own, but it was far, far more worn than he remembered. Niers sat at the table and suddenly wished he had asked to play chess. Because he needed a piece to look at. He gazed at Erin again, trying to redirect back onto the mind sharper than the Quarass—if it wasn’t him, then who?

Or other matters. But he just watched her, and the words slipped out before he could help it.

“Dead gods, Erin. Who put you in chains? And are they alive? Because I will have them killed.”

The Titan gently asked Erin, and she blinked at him. Then her hands rose to her neck, and she stared at the scars on her wrists as if she’d forgotten she had them. Her face went blank. Her head lowered, and her locks of hair covered her face. He was guilty, then.

But then, after a moment, Erin inhaled; her head rose, and she looked him in the eye.

“Thanks, Niers. The ones who were on the ship already died, though. And the rest are too well protected to kill, for now.”

She thanked the Titan, who had terrified so many, even when he was small as a mouse, for the truth of what he would do. Simply and without doubt. And he…ah, damn.

He covered his mouth to hide a smile and kept his mouth shut.

Because his treacherous heart was falling a tiny bit in love again.

 

——

 

“So you killed them.”

The Titan and Erin were talking, him from the chess board, she from the gazebo seats. Then he moved—not to sit next to her, but to peer out across the void. She sat there in various positions, and he paced or leaned out the gazebo—even hopped out of it to pace around the outside and walk in the void.

Again, things she had never seen done. But it felt like they were both strangers and as if they knew each other well. So well. For you see, they had talked across the board, both as players and as well as sending messages. They’d seen what the other could do.

“I had help. And the masterminds in Roshal are alive, the six of them. But everyone else who tried to chain me and Ulvama died.”

Niers nodded. He turned his head to her, and he was again too sharp for Erin’s tastes. But she had wanted this.

“Where is Ulvama now? In my company or elsewhere? And the [Slaves] are with House Shoel, I presume? Or headed back to your inn? It won’t be safe if it’s the latter.”

She scowled at him.

“Do you get tired of asking nosy questions?”

He tugged at his beard, vexed.

“We’re on the same side, Erin. Can’t you trust me with answers?”

“I’m great at not giving out answers. Do you give your allies all the answers all the time?”

“I’m quite honest about what I do!”

She rolled her eyes.

“Sure, until you do the thing you were actually planning. Telling someone ‘you’re in check’ doesn’t stop you from forking their pieces or setting up a move. That’s what you do.”

“Point.”

He had to concede that and ran a hand through his hair.

“Alright, fine, what will you tell me?”

She thought about it, and he figured some of her hesitation came from experience in this place. Certainly, he’d managed a partial ‘lie’ about honesty, and she’d caught him on it. It would be extremely fun to use this place…if he didn’t actually want to talk to her. His desire for information was warring with his desire to talk to Erin, and he wished he could stomp the former, but alas—he was enjoying this too much. He waited as Erin uncrossed her arms, then rested her arms on the wall behind her.

“…I hate giant centipedes. And sandfleas.”

The answer took him off-guard, and he laughed despite himself.

“Oh. Oh, no. You’ve run into Balerosian wildlife? As a Fraerling? Are you okay?”

“Hey, I hit Level 50! I’m great! Look at these guns!”

She flexed a bicep, and he didn’t see much muscle, but Niers turned.

“You’re actually well? There are monsters which could kill Level 50 Fraerlings, Erin.”

“Yeah…I found help. I shouldn’t say who or what. It’s a promise.”

“Ah, a Fraerling village. Say no more.”

This time, she threw something at him. A chess piece. He caught the pawn in one hand and blinked.

“You can shift the [Pavilion of Secrets] as you desire. Ah, yes, it was in the rules. I skimmed that. Can you alter this place completely, like your [Garden of Sanctuary], or just in small ways? And can you open that door?”

She threw up her hands.

“Hey! Why don’t you reveal all my tricks? No, that leads to the [Palace of Fates]. No getting in. Now I bet you’re going to research that when we finish talking. This is why I didn’t call you up right away.”

Embarrassed, the [Strategist] changed subjects.

“I appreciate that you called. Truly. If you tell me where you are, I can have my Fraerling allies send help. Though there is a risk they might be monitored. It’s slight, but there. You know what’s happening with my company, don’t you?”

“Some things, but tell me.”

She sat up, and he shrugged.

“Let me see. The Dyed Lands are expanding aggressively, and three of the Great Companies are battling it. I haven’t heard from the Eyes of Baleros—the Gazer company—but they’re fighting Jungle Tails, who have emerged and are skirmishing across western Baleros, mostly. I suspect they’re also combating the Dyed Lands, but these two affairs are wrapping up my forces. It makes rescuing Rabbiteater’s group, or any other, very difficult as my armies will come under attack.”

“That’s rough, buddy.”

His brows crossed, and he turned to see her giving him an innocent expression. Erin wavered, then scowled herself.

“Damn pavilion. Alright, fine—that sounds awful, but I can’t do anything about it. I never could. I’m no [Strategist], and…you’re the Titan. I have to trust you can deal with it. Unless there’s actually something me or the inn could do?”

Niers had to admit, he was stung a bit by the cavalier response. Her explanation helped. He stared out into the void.

“Nothing on the level of strategic help. You curing Foliana was enough. It’s just a mess. Jungle Tails emerging the way it did truly did surprise me. Part of it was my former [Chamberlain], Peclir Im.”

He scowled, imagining that bastard, and focused on the man’s rather bland features. His balding pate. Why had he turned traitor? Something Jungle Tails could offer him, more than gold or power, Niers bet.

Erin jumped when she saw Peclir appear in the void. Niers smirked as he turned to her.

“That’s Peclir Im, if you should ever meet him. A dangerous man. Not physically, but sharp. He fooled me. Jungle Tails is sweeping across western Baleros; their old strongholds. My forces are pulling back, reconsolidating. It looks like, well, this.”

He swept a hand, and to his delight, the continent appeared in miniature around them, filling the void. Flags and figurines appeared as well, moving—the war room maps he had practically memorized.

“Hey! Stop, stop!”

Erin waved her hands as the images zoomed so she could peer down at western Baleros, where red lines indicated armies—even with troop counts and dispositions, Niers’ personal notes visualized perfectly.

I’d love this Skill for planning warsims. Niers created an image of ten thousand Nagas advancing on one of his burning fortresses, a composite of images he’d seen and his imagination, and then glanced at Erin. The vision of battle hung in the distance.

“What? Am I taxing the Skill or something?”

She pointed a finger at him.

“No! This is my cool thing to reveal! Stop figuring out what this place can do!”

Erin snapped her fingers, and the gazebo vanished. Then they were walking in the void over the map of Baleros. She stomped up to him, and he grinned. It was unsettling to the stomach to be floating, but he just pointed down.

“Strategy is the air I breathe, Erin. I’ve been frustrated of late. This is why. Do you see?”

She did. The map he painted for her rewound in time until it was pre-Jungle Tails attacking. She saw the flashes of combat appearing, just raids at first—then a flurry of attacks.

“The day I was betrayed and went missing in Izril. Now…”

The map developed more patches of red as Jungle Tails emerged. In the east and central Baleros where the Forgotten Wing company held strength, their flareups mostly were suppressed, and Niers pointed to Elvallian where he’d crushed an entire army. But the western perspective…

“Do you see what I’m doing?”

He was reminded of his classes with the fake Erin, whomever she was. The [Innkeeper]…was not that Erin. She peered at the map, frowning.

“I guess? Everyone’s leaving the forts? Packing up? And you’re moving towards the Dyed Lands…which are in the way of reinforcements to the west. Darn, no wonder you’re losing all the western stuff.”

Another flash of mild disappointment. Not that her read was off—but she just clearly didn’t speak strategy as any kind of language like she did chess. Niers pointed out movements of troops to her.

“Not just that. I’m…fighting delaying actions across our holdings. See the fortresses? We’re ceding territory but delaying Jungle Tails from establishing a base of power.”

She caught the patterns now he pointed them out to her, and he went on.

“You see, any fortress we have will endure most sieges. Jungle Tails rushed into several, and it cost them more than it should have to take the fortresses. Without that, they grind down the defenders, but they’re well supplied. When they reach the breaking point, I either relieve the forces or they use escape routes.”

Or surrender.

It was messy and felt like enduring blows to do it at this level, but it was buying time for him to consolidate his power and come at Jungle Tails. Erin murmured.

“I get it. I don’t like strategy, Niers. I’m not great at it…you’re letting Jungle Tails take all that territory?”

She watched as an entire city turned red. Niers shrugged tiredly. He wavered, but then was honest with her.

“What else can I do? When the Forgotten Wing company became the 4th Great Company of Baleros, we removed Jungle Tails from that position and took a lot of their holdings. Lizardfolk remember. It’s not even been more than two generations.”

“They’re not loyal to Forgotten Wing?”

“A bit—but Jungle Tails can offer them what I never could. Power. The Eyes of Baleros are power, and Lizardfolk are often treated like—the Gnolls of the continent. But differently. Second-class citizens, expendable. Yes, there are a lot of those who’d sympathize with Forgotten Wing, but they’d inevitably die even if we rallied militias. So we’re falling back. Jungle Tails won’t massacre most places, and I’ve evacuated those that are in danger.”

Abandoning places to the Nagas. Erin peered at the map, then her finger stabbed down towards a pocket of obvious blue.

“You must have a lot of people there, huh?”

He didn’t even have to look. Niers nodded.

“The Gelizment Frontiers. We have a lot of forces there, and it’s being enveloped slowly, but it will fall. I’ll have them endure sieges as long as we can, then retreat into the jungles. We might lose a third of them on the march, or they’ll have to go native—but I can’t reach it in time.”

Baleros had so many damn jungles that cutting a road that wasn’t already cut took time and resources. He was fighting for control of highways and forts. Erin nodded, accepting the explanation, but then she surprised him again.

“Yeah. It’s tough. I…this…is why I could never do your job, Niers.”

He felt a pang in his chest as she stared down at the map. Erin seemed to wrestle with herself, then added—

“Evacuating those forts in the frontiers sounds like the right thing to do. Or you could let them fight for it. Your soldiers, people who’re afraid of Jungle Tails. Everyone.”

His head turned to her. She was studying the map, and the [Innkeeper]’s eyes were tracing the flow of colors.

“It’s like…more central, isn’t it? A rallying point. I bet that people are looking to it as the one safe point right now.”

“Yes. But it can’t hold. It won’t, Erin. Jungle Tails has hitters as hard as my [Generals]. They will take the fortress if we make a stand there, especially if we collect so many we can’t actually put them in a fortress. It’ll be land battles. Army versus army, and they’ll die fast. Faster without healing potions.”

She nodded.

“It’s a symbol, though. And people are losing their homes, Niers. If you give them a chance to fight and die for it—some will take it. So long as this place stands, the entire region will rally around it.”

He felt a light tingle on his skin.

“They’ll be slaughtered. They would do a lot of damage, but I’m avoiding that.”

She peered up at him, and her hazel eyes were suddenly bleak.

“Yeah. But strategically, does this make more sense?”

“From a certain point of view.”

He was cold, but his arms were tingling, and he felt his heart leaping. A monster’s heart—Erin turned away.

“It’s their choice. It should always be their choice. If you give people the right to die for home and family, not needlessly, they will take it. If you do that—how much time does it buy? How many troops does Jungle Tails have to divert to take this spot? How much does it distract them? How much morale does it raise?”

“I can’t answer that. But—I think it’s worth trying.”

He murmured, and she turned away. Waved a hand, and the continent below vanished. Erin stood with her back to Niers, suddenly appearing burdened, as weary as he had been before the door had appeared.

“Erin?”

“I wish I hadn’t seen that. I wish I hadn’t suggested that. This is why, Niers. This is why you and I aren’t the same. It’s too hard to be a person with your job. How do you…not become a monster like Chaldion? Or worse?”

She turned to him, and now he felt like she was inspecting him as so many did—searching for the monster that so many found to be self-evident, bursting out of his skin. But she wasn’t sure. And—he whispered.

“Everyone’s a monster when you hand them power, Erin. It’s…avoiding what you know you can do. Knowing you can point, order, and someone vanishes. But you don’t do it. Something has to matter more than your own ego. You put an anchor down and cling to it. Foliana treats everything like hers, but she takes care of it. A giant squirrel and her nest and children.”

“And you?”

Her eyes locked onto him like beams of light, and he shrugged. The truth compelled his tongue.

“I have students because it makes me not want to horrify them. I’m second-in-command because I need to treat this like something I’m responsible for, not something I own. How do I stay grounded otherwise?”

He flexed a hand, staring at it intently, at the scars rather than her face.

“I meet other Fraerlings, and if they refuse to get near me, I know I’m being sucked into my position.”

“Ah. They’re a moral people.”

He heard her exhale, and then he dared to meet her eyes. She was gazing away, and he breathed again.

“Yes. They are. Smallest of the world with egos and opinions about giants. I, ah, I lied to you, you know. Within the rules of this place.”

She turned to him, and Niers walked through the void. He conjured nothing, but just stared down.

“Laismosz the Praeriehome. I called myself the last son of it. Which is true…but it wasn’t destroyed. It suffered attacks. Several, because I came from it. Because I involved it in my wars and struggles. The city wasn’t fully wiped out—it just dissolved into smaller settlements.”

“Oh. Do you feel guilty about it?”

The Titan of Baleros stared down, down into the darkness.

“On bad days, I don’t. I tell myself I could have made them what Paeth is now. I think that Fraerlings should be feared, should be strong. Or at least have someone like me with a finger on the scales of the world. But then I remember—”

He turned to her, grey in his hair, a tall man with a sword, handsome and charismatic—a warlord who could compel thousands to follow him, daring enough to fight giants, mind sharper than any blade. Held back only by his size.

Titan of Baleros. Niers finished his sentence.

“—I never gave them any choice. So they chose for me.”

He waited, and [The Wandering Innkeeper] exhaled. She stepped forwards, and he thought he saw something appearing out of the darkness. An inn glowing with lights, rising higher, changing—he blinked, and it was gone, a ghost of memories.

“I think the same thing, sometimes, about Liscor. About people I help and hurt. I’d do it again. Perhaps they were happier before they wondered if Antinium had names or if killing Goblins was right or wrong. Or perhaps they were in less danger. I will do it again and again. I just don’t like myself that much sometimes, Niers.”

He stood there and felt that painful connection in his heart. The Titan gazed at Erin, then away.

“I challenged Jungle Tails because I saw them pressing down on people like a rotten fruit. Filled with maggots and corruption and decay. I threw Baleros into war; I have killed and fought for my land and kept going. Because I see no one else with a better vision for this continent.”

In silence, the two stood together. Two monsters wearing facsimiles of flesh, pretending to be people. Niers realized his heart was hurting more. He understood Erin. He felt connected to her. This conversation was everything he wanted—

And it was a nightmare. They understood too much of each other. He tried to change the subject to something lighter, and he could not. Nor could she, in this moment. She wore her scars fresh—she was still the woman who had slain a [Prince] and shoved him aside without even pausing to look at his face.

No. Not this.

He felt Queravia laughing at him, because once more he had gotten his wish only to find it had twisted. He had always, always wanted someone who understood him. But not so perfectly.

I would rather we had just played chess…

He could feel his mouth opening, and Niers feared what he would say next. Or she—her eyes contained that weight which could crush souls into dust as she turned to him. Trapped by their similarities. Helpless in the face of a tragedy of their own design.

Every Titan needed a hero. Every innkeeper needed a guest of magic and adventure.

The [Pavilion of Secrets] was one the great works of Empress Sheta. But it wasn’t invincible, perfect, and neither was the [Palace of Fates]. And both the [Strategist] and the [Innkeeper] had forgotten that.

It was the smallest sliver of light in the void they stood in. There was no light source in the [Pavilion of Secrets], and yet, in this moment, Niers did feel some kind of light on his skin. Not that he needed it to see here; if there was no light, there was no true darkness either. He and Erin were perfectly visible…but he was still illuminated by something.

He turned—and realized where it was coming from. There was a sliver in the air. Just a tiny fragment—but something was pouring from it.

True light. Not even strong light; the ambiance of a room, but it made Erin turn.

“What’s that, Niers?”

“I don’t…oh. The door. Is my time up?”

It was the door that he’d opened to get here. It hadn’t vanished, even though the door to the [Palace of Fates] had—temporarily at least. Erin waved a hand.

“No, I don’t think—hey, Pavilion? What’s going…huh.”

The gazebo was back. Niers and Erin were standing in it, and he twisted around and saw the vast doors, fit for a giant Harpy, on the other side. The door that presumably led back to his reality over there…

A hair open. He and Erin exchanged a glance.

This is what they forgot: a woman who looked like Erin, but who wasn’t, appeared in the distance in front of the door. Niers focused on the [Pavilion of Secrets] and saw her standing there. A hand against the door. She turned as Erin strode down from the gazebo, and Niers followed and spoke.

“Don’t mind me. I’m just doing my job. Took you long enough to notice.”

Erin frowned as she approached the door.

“What job? Why’s the door open? Wh—oh.”

She came to a halt, and then Niers saw it too. Though he wasn’t as surprised as the two women, who both turned and stared at him. Alas, he was smiling a bit. He stood as that sliver of the door moved wider, just a hair. Revealing what lay on the other side.

A strangely grey world. His rooms where the Fraerlings, like Iuncuta Eirnos, and Seneschal Atmodeca were held—searching around, moving, but in snapshots of motion. They’d appear here or there—like pictures.

Strange. Even Erin was entranced. Was it due to the Skill? Or perhaps the Niers and Erin were moving in different dimensions? He swore he even saw himself walking around and wondered how much time was passing. The snapshots seemed…slower than they should be. As if they were moving faster for some reason.

He wasn’t sure…but what Niers did see, along with Erin, was that something had changed in the room beyond. Despite the power of the [Pavilion of Secrets]—a hand had moved as Niers had opened the door. He’d seen her as he turned.

The greatest [Strategist] in the world—and never forget, his superior. The greatest [Rogue].

Three-Color Stalker.

Foliana.

She was a giant given the size of the door. And she had a clawed tip of her finger on it. She was frozen in place, seemingly, her eyes glowing, but her nail was on the door, pressing at it. The [Pavilion of Secrets] was on the other side, holding it in a silent stalemate. But the door—was—opening.

“She’s quite talented, even for her level. As I said…this didn’t happen even in Sheta’s time that much. They were in the same room, which doesn’t help.”

Pavilion-Erin was trying to sound measured and calm, but there was a faint strain in her voice. The real Erin put her hands on her hips, and suddenly—that air of heaviness around her lifted.

She smiled, and her voice was teasing.

“Met your match?”

“Hardly. She can’t even force the door open. I have far more safeguards for her kind. But if you’d care to help?”

Pavilion-Erin really should have known better. But she missed the twinkle in Erin’s eyes. The [Innkeeper] walked over and put her hand on the latch of the door. She turned, winked at Niers, and pulled the door open.

The [Pavilion of Secrets] recoiled, then sighed—and Niers saw the giant hand of Foliana vanish. A regular-sized Squirrel-woman stumbled—caught herself as she drew her daggers in a blur, and held one at Erin’s throat.

“Mm. That was hard. And quick. I feel old. Is this a trap, Niers?”

She inspected Erin, and Niers shook his head.

“Welcome to Erin Solstice’s Skill, Foliana.”

He should have been annoyed, but he was mostly impressed she’d made it, even with Erin’s help. Dead gods, she’s going to brag about this for years.

Foliana peered at Niers, at Erin, and then poked Erin with her dagger.

“Ow! Hey! Foliana, it’s me!”

Erin sidled away from the daggers. The Squirrel Beastkin sniffed her a few times, then regarded Niers.

“Mm. It looks like a trap for Niers.”

“I’m not a trap! Stop poking me! No violence is allowed in here!”

“I know. I heard. You should be exploding when I poke you with this. Okay.”

Foliana hopped into the room, inspecting the bricks, the gazebo, the door on the far side, and then she peered at Niers. He cleared his throat.

“Erin was catching me up to speed on what was going on with her situation, and I with her. The implications of this—”

“Don’t care. Snacks.”

Foliana did a hop, vanished, and appeared on the roof of the gazebo. Niers and Erin whirled, and the [Innkeeper]’s jaw dropped.

“Wh—hey! Can she do that?”

For answer, Niers took a step and appeared on the gazebo roof. Instantly, he stumbled and then fell, cursing—

“Foliana, you rat!”

He hit the ‘ground’ without pain. Foliana lowered the foot she’d kicked him with.

“This is my spot now. You were having fun while I tried to get through the stupid door. It felt like I was pushing for hours! Snacks.”

“Half an hour at most. Erin, you can eject her if you want.”

“Try it.”

Niers sprang up, and Erin appeared next to them.

“Oof! I’m gonna hurl! Eject Foliana? Aw, but I like her! I can do snacks! Better yet, you wanna visit a coffee shop, Foliana?”

Her eyes lit up, and Niers realized he hadn’t considered Erin’s ability to share her memories.

We could do so much with this place—but then Foliana jumped down.

“No.”

“No? But it has great snacks! Even Fetohep liked it!”

She invited King Fetohep here before me? Well, he did know her—Niers kept his face straight. Unfortunately for him, and Erin, they were in the presence of Foliana, who smiled hugely.

“Niers. She invited Fetohep before you.”

She poked him, and he tried to jab her back, but she hid behind Erin. Blushing faintly, Niers growled.

“And what’s wrong with a coffee shop? You drink it like a sponge!”

“Yeah! I like the place! It’s in Grand Rapids, my home city! I used to go there all the time! Well, some of the time. The coffee wasn’t free.”

Foliana turned up her nose.

“Anything good enough for the King of Khelt isn’t good enough for me. Take me somewhere, mm, better. Then tell King Fetohep about it. Snacks.”

She slapped the railing of the gazebo, and Erin spluttered.

“Snacks? How about Chuck E. Cheese’s?”

“Sounds stupid. What makes it special?”

“It has a giant rat for a mascot.”

“I’m a Squirrel. You’re, hmm, speciesist. You heard her, Niers. Terrible.”

“Wh—I’m not!”

Niers kept his face straight as he shook his head, folding his arms disapprovingly.

“I did hear that too, Foliana. A terrible thing. And she made me the same height as her. Disrespecting my Fraerling heritage.”

Erin spun around to him.

“We’re the same height, Niers, pal! And I know you use Signim!”

Foliana poked her from the other side.

“He uses it because he has to. Don’t be heightist. Also, you made us think we were under attack. Bad. Bad. Don’t be bad, buddy. Friendo. Chum.”

“That’s my bit, Foliana. You can’t use—”

Erin started giggling. Niers felt himself smiling despite himself. He stared at Foliana as she held out her paws and shoved them in Erin’s face.

“Snacks.”

Fortunately, Foliana had appeared. When Erin, exasperated, took them to a supermarket, the Squirrel Woman merely stole a basket, then refused to accept any candy until Erin took them to a restaurant in Grand Rapids she had been to, an ‘Electric Cheetah’, that she swore she liked. But the Squirrel-woman could not be contained.

As soon as she had raided the root beer and eaten appetizers, she demanded Erin take them back to the gazebo room. Not for any conversation. Or rather, that was a secondary objective.

 

——

 

“Hmm. You’re small now?”

“Yep. Hey, Niers, you do the lights. And why do I have to carry you on my shoulders, Foliana?”

“It’s funnier that way. Stop moving. How’s it being small? Niers made me small for a while.”

“You did?”

“She wanted to visit a Fraerling city. It took ages to make the spell good enough for a prolonged stay, and she was only there for six days.”

“What? That’s so cool. Think they’ll be able to make me get bigger? But why only six days?”

“Undoubtedly if you find a big city. Foliana, you tell her?”

“Racism. More light, Niers.”

“…She broke into every place she could and stole everything she could, didn’t she?”

“Yep.”

“Mm. And I solved part of their Last Box, and they got mad.”

“You did?”

Erin was giggling so hard that Foliana hopped up and hovered in the air instead. Niers floated up and created a steady beam of light for Foliana to see with. The fourth member of the group, squeezed against one part of the [Pavilion of Secrets], folded her arms.

“You’re never going to get in.”

“I got in here. Niers, pass me the other pick. No, the squiggly one. The squiggly one. The squiggly—yes.”

They were all gathered around the vast doors on the other side. What was Foliana doing?

She was trying to pick the lock to the [Palace of Fates]. Pavilion-Erin glowered as the real Erin held up a root beer for Foliana to sip. And that’s all they did. Just chatted while Foliana tried all the tools in her bag of holding and quite a lot more she imagined to jimmy the lock.

In the end, she failed, but she made Erin promise to let her try again. And they didn’t speak of great big things. Just how bugs tasted and Foliana scaring Ryoka.

Niers would have thought it was trivial and mundane an hour ago, but he was so relieved that Foliana had appeared that he slung an arm around her shoulder as they were walking back to the door. She instantly vanished.

“Meh. I’ll unlock the door next time. You talk strategy with Niers too. Promise?”

She held out a pinkie, and Erin hesitated.

“I guess I could at least talk to him. Now and then. It’s tiring using this thing, but…we could play a game.”

She smiled, and he slapped his forehead.

“We forgot! What about a few rounds of speed chess?”

“No.”

Foliana tugged at his arm, and he protested. So did Erin.

“We’ve got all the time in the world, Foliana! Since this is like, only part of us. We could play a bunch of games! I like that!”

“No. I’m not leaving until Niers leaves because he has to explain everything. And I’m not going to watch boring chess.”

“It’s not boring.”

The two chorused. Erin promised to contact Niers at a better time, and he promised to play some games unless he was in a battle or something. And then?

His hand was on the door latch when he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at her. And he thought she’d grown older. Far older in days. Just as he’d told Lyonette, she’d lived through something new, terrible, and come out the other side.

But she’d already been someone who kept secrets. She’d already lived and died once, and that was more than he had done.

Too many secrets, making it impossible to talk to her and get a glimpse of her, just like how he could tell the truth and be honest and no one would ever see the color of his soul. Erin’s eyes lingered on Niers, then flicked to Foliana.

“Niers? Foliana. Thanks for talking and not pressing me super hard on anything. It’s difficult to share big secrets.”

He raised a hand, and Foliana nodded. They lingered there as Erin took a breath. Then she turned her back and stared into the infinite void, as if there was nothing frightening there. It made Niers shiver, and his mind wrestled with the limitless sights. But she just stared into that great beyond as if she were seeing something else.

He could see it, here. Niers saw someone come striding out of the darkness. A lone figure who raised a hand in greeting and farewell. He wore a strange suit, bulky and festooned with tools that hung from his belt. Pockets—Niers recognized the way the suit was made, and it said to him that it was airtight. Like Drowned Folk diving suits or Dullahan’s gear for dangerous environments.

But he—Niers stared at the short man with his pointed beard, white hair, and smile full of laughter and mischief and intelligence.

He laid eyes on Zineryr the Gnome, and his mind went blank. Foliana blinked, and her tri-color gaze flicked to Erin—and then she jumped as the void split and tore.

“Gnomes?”

Pavilion-Erin whispered, and she appeared with the two, staring with an open-mouth. But the [Innkeeper] only raised a trembling hand, and the colors shot across the skies, turning the endless night into a sea of blazing colors, like Dragonfire of every kind burning through the world.

Memories.

Niers saw more laughing folk appearing, waving at him, and his heart leapt when he saw Fraerlings, a Giant standing, Khelta, and a host of people, some of whom he knew, regarding him.

Erin turned and cupped her hands to her mouth, shouting at him.

“Niers! This is Khelta; Velzimri, the Sage of a Thousand Secrets; and Elucina, the Rebel of String. They saved my life and taught me, along with Califor and the [Witches]. And this—this is one of the Gnomes I met. His name was Zineryr! I think he was there when the gods died. I think—”

Tears caught in her eyes. Shimmering water and regrets and wonder. Erin turned to the smiling Gnome.

“I think he was a scientist, an explorer. I think he never wanted to be a warrior, but he was really, really good at it. Sort of like me. I wish I’d talked to him for so much longer. That’s who I met.”

She had told him once, but the truth of it took Niers’ breath away. He gazed upon the face of a Gnome and thought, yes, here were the laughing folk written in Fraerling legends and lore.

Zineryr did not disappoint, like so many others. Niers and Foliana exchanged a glance, and he saw her eyes were also shining. Niers gazed past Erin, at the lands upon which these ghosts stood. He thought he knew, but he asked anyways, voice hoarse.

“Where is this?”

“The land of the dead! Or—it used to be. There was a war for everything, and you missed it. I think they could have used you. Now, I believe it’s gone. They are. But this is what it looked like. It’s too awful for me to show anyone. I can’t even show Ul…but you—you get it. Look. I lived through this and no one would ever understand, even when they believed me. But you do. Aside from the battle at sea and Roshal’s ship, everything else was easier.”

The [Innkeeper] had tears in her eyes as she spread her hands, and he saw Seamwalkers battling ghosts. The half-real lands of Izril consumed by towering horrors. A [Soldier] with a gun, riding a Dragon. And his heart leapt and hurt in ways that even he would have been ashamed to say. A terrible longing and regret. Just like hers.

Foliana nudged Niers, and he realized he was taller than she was, a rarity for them. The [Rogue] was smiling.

“Ooh. She’s outdoing us, Niers. What do you think? I don’t feel like dying. Mm. Too ordinary.”

Foliana peered at the landscapes flashing below, above, all around them. Even Pavilion-Erin was gazing in wonder, head spinning left and right, as if she didn’t know this.

What did Niers think? The answer came from his mouth, too fast for him to stop.

“It’s a land. It’s ground of some kind. It can be taken and held. If it exists—it’s just another frontier.”

What a madman. He regretted saying it the moment he heard his own voice, because it sounded insane. But then he looked around and realized he was in the company of an old friend, a Skill, and Erin Solstice. She just smiled at him, seeing a piece of his soul—and he gazed at the Gnome’s face.

A suit meant for an explorer, not a warrior. It wasn’t armored. He didn’t carry a weapon.

So that was a Gnome. Niers raised a hand, gazing at the sky streaked with colors. And he did reply. He swept a hand over the vision before him, and the air split in two. Erin’s vision of the lands of the dead remained, but halfway towards him, the colors stopped. He heard a voice panting.

 

——

 

Felt the grit on his skin. Smelled blood—and the tang of magic and something else in his nostrils. Erin Solstice’s eyes widened, and she beheld a ghost.

A screaming Naga, spear raised, body translucent, face warped until their mouth was a hole in reality, their body distorted by the wraith’s fading memory. A true ghost in the Waning World—

Until a pair of daggers swept through it and the screaming ghost vanished.

Memory.

A younger Foliana appeared, panting, ice coating her armguard and left shoulder as she pointed. Shouting behind them; a corridor of bodies. His people were advancing over the corpses of Jungle Tails’ soldiers. Fighting in the Labyrinth of Souls, closing the net.

“Where’s the Dragontouched? Has he reached the center?”

Niers heard his own voice as Named-rank adventurers, friends, advanced past him. A half-Elf with a bow from the Village of the Spring, eyes glowing with magic. A rebel Naga, holding scimitar blades. They were moving into a vast room, and someone whispered.

“Niers—there’s too much magic ahead. My [Dangersense]…”

Danger was singing in his ears too, the loudest sound he’d ever heard. Foliana glanced at Niers, and he realized she had never known what he’d heard in that moment. Niers heard his voice echoing.

“Push forwards. We can’t let him get whatever is here. If it’s another Eye of Baleros—we advance.”

The image blurred. Niers and the Named-rank adventurers who were his team, and the [Mercenaries] they were fighting with that would later become the heart of the Forgotten Wing company, kept moving forwards. Until they found the Dragontouched, the leader of the Jungle Tails company who’d followed them into this dungeon.

He’d reached the center minutes before they had. And there they saw it.

“I have seen the faces of Elves.”

Niers met Erin’s eyes, and she saw them. The statues lining this vast room in alcoves—preserved against the wrath of time.

No, this battleground.

A testing chamber. He could still see the dais rising in the distance in his memories, as clear as day. The promise…waiting behind the last trial of the Labyrinth of Souls.

A little figure lay on the ground, surrounded by dead Lizardfolk and Nagas of all species. The Dragontouched, whose features had been altered from the Naga he had been, able to breathe every flame known to Dragonkind—lying there, staring up at the test.

The largest Hydra in the world, made of shimmering energy, some construct from the age of Elves, rose a thousand feet high. Next to it, a far smaller Minotaur, still a Giant unto its kind, rested a hand on the axe that had cut the Dragontouched in half. Niers heard his own voice, calling out hoarsely.

“Retreat. Ret—”

The face of Elves.

 

——

 

“I’ve always known where the answers were.”

He wanted to laugh at the expression on her face. The Titan of Baleros had never, ever shared that image with anyone. How could he even describe it? Who would believe him, if he did?

“We were never ready. I told you…”

You’re not the only one. The image of the Labyrinth of Souls vanished behind him. The Titan of Baleros turned, and he saw it again.

This time, it was just a marsh, absent of the regular noise of insects and animals. An older Niers, raising a hand warily as his hunting force halted. A veritable army ready for what he thought was an Elder Creler.

Then—the muck and water erupted upwards. What he’d thought was an island rose—and the serpentine head came up. Eyes flashed in two colors down at him, and the detritus and filth clinging to the Earth Dragon’s scales fell away. They shone such a vibrant green that even his [Soldiers] hesitated.

The young Dragon roared a challenge in the common tongue, and she barely spoke it well. The Titan threw up a hand—and he met her eyes as the [Innkeeper] stared.

I’ve met them too.

Then he saw her gaze at him, smile, and her eyes lit up with wonder. He realized he could talk about them, with her, and not betray that sacred trust.

Ah, look, his heart seemed to cry at him. Look.

I’ve found another real person who has beheld a truth and not been blinded by it.

Even the [Pavilion of Secrets] was silent, drinking in these mysteries like a child hungry to find the answers. Niers, Erin…

And Foliana. The great [Rogue] of Baleros gazed at the warring visions of might and magic, wonder and legend as the two glanced at her. She waved a paw over her head. Then seemed vaguely displeased when nothing happened. Niers and Erin began to relax their control on the images around them—but Foliana was quicker. She drew a dagger and cut—

Everything.

When Niers saw again, it was her vision she wished to show them. To show Erin.

 

——

 

What Foliana saw was the way their faces tightened. A hand clenching. The way they drew back or looked around.

Fear in the lines of their bodies, but also their auras. And she saw every aura. That was what even Niers forgot at times: how different her eyes were.

To the Squirrel Beastkin, every person’s aura was a manifestation around them. It pressed at other people, reflecting their desires, feelings, and strength. To Niers and Erin, it was a surreal, dizzying vision.

But they still saw the court, resplendent with ancient legends writ on the very walls. And the [Innkeeper]—her breath caught as the [Prince of Men] bowed stiffly to the visiting Squirrel Woman.

Prince Iradoren. Then he stepped back, and even he was afraid of the famous killer of Baleros. Even in his court of myths.

“Foliana…”

Niers’ voice was lost in the memory. And the [Innkeeper] had just stepped forwards to stare at Prince Iradoren’s face. She peered at him as he stood there, talking to a short Fraerling with great interest.

But the Squirrel Beastkin stood alone, partly invisible, as ever. She hopped around the Court of Myths in Erribathe, peering at the strange representatives of each part of the Kingdom of Myths, the best of whom were only vaguely aware of her presence. Unwanted, unwelcome.

As ever. Foliana felt only a bit sad as she hopped over to a corner and sat, watching as the young [Prince]’s eyes lit up with tales of the world he had never met, surrounded by sycophants, hanging on the Titan’s words, trying to make promises he had no right to. A younger Niers too. Not yet head of a Great Company of Baleros.

Then someone surprised Foliana. She jumped four feet up as a hand touched her arm. Someone had snuck up on her; an old half-Elf—old, even for their kind, bowed to her.

A servant? She held a broom and asked Foliana if there was anything the [Rogue] wanted. Foliana was not fooled and shook her head as the former Queen of Erribathe bowed like a servant. She left—and then a man came striding into the room, late, hair covered with leaves, mud on his tunic.

Laughing about wrestling a pig, to the dismay of his son. And his aura could have swallowed the entire palace, but it was contained, barely peeking out of his skin. The most ordinary [King] she’d ever met. A slumbering monarch? No…a content [King].

The King of Myths cast around the room and then bent his head and listened to the serving half-Elf. His eyes found Foliana. So he gazed around, found a table, and picked up a silver pitcher and cup. Like a [Cupbearer], he approached her and offered her a glass, pouring the wine from the pitcher. Because no one else had remembered to.

She smiled faintly at King Nuvityn, who had no fear of her. Only eyes that sparkled with delight for meeting someone who carried stories with her. Who was one. A man who could not be tempted with glory for glory’s sake. A fine ruler of Erribathe, and the despair of his son.

Foliana’s head turned in the memory, and she met Erin Solstice’s gaze.

That was who she’d killed. And this…Foliana pointed a finger at the smiling King of Myths holding the pitcher.

This was her foe.

 

——

 

“Now, I see. I didn’t want to know his face. Do you remember them, Foliana?”

“Yes. Sometimes. Mostly, no. But sometimes.”

Niers was jealous of Foliana, because she had something to teach Erin, a perspective he did not. She always had been able to cut to the heart of matters in ways he never could. And he could do what she could not, but in this moment, he did envy her.

Erin Solstice stood in her [Pavilion of Secrets], and her eyes lingered on the place where King Nuvityn’s memory had been.

“He looked nice, for a [King]. I killed his son.”

“I’m protecting the—other Erin as best I can. And Erribathe is not foolish. I’d be more wary of other factions than them. He wouldn’t harm children.”

Niers added quickly, and Erin nodded. She stood there, head bowed, and he feared they had burdened her. But then she exhaled and turned.

“Thank you, Foliana. And you, Niers. I think that’s enough for today. I don’t wanna spoil all the cool stuff and heartache on the first meeting.”

She smiled faintly, and he grinned ruefully in answer. Foliana just scratched at one ear with her foot. She and Niers weren’t weeping with emotion, and in truth, neither had Erin, except for once.

All their grand deeds and these events of which they’d shared were behind them. Instead, they stood together, and Niers only regretted he hadn’t taken them to one of his favorite bars in Elvallian and all had a drink.

A drink—such a quaint tradition, but they had no greater emotions to spill out. They weren’t performative, here, or back in these moments. A toast to now and then—and to the days to come. Between those who had witnessed stories.

That was what lay unsaid in Foliana’s casual words. She nodded at Erin, and there were few people she had ever offered that quicksilver smile to. Like a flash of her daggers, sharp and alive. Niers was grinning too.

“Fancy Skill. Don’t get trapped here. Touching grass is also nice. And she’s boring. Don’t like her.”

She poked Pavilion-Erin in the cheek until the fake Erin swatted at her finger. The [Innkeeper] laughed. Then she raised a hand.

“Thank you. Until next time.”

The Titan nodded. He turned the door’s handle in his hand and walked out of the [Pavilion of Secrets]. Both he and Foliana glanced over their shoulders as the door swung closed.

Niers saw Erin smiling and waving at him. He lifted his hand—

 

——

 

Niers and Foliana snapped back to their bodies, and reality resumed. Memories attempted to mesh and merge. Niers remembered being in two places at once—slightly jarring. The Titan froze, mid-step across his desk, and counted.

Twenty minutes. Interesting, I think we spent longer in the [Pavilion of Secrets], but it might have been trying to stop Foliana from getting in. Nothing of consequence had happened here—just attempts to locate the door. However, at that moment, Eirnos spun and pointed to the place where he’d emerged from.

“—swore I saw something! There!”

Eirnos pointed, and everyone whirled, but Foliana just appeared as Niers took a seat on the tables. Fraerlings leapt down, and Atmodeca signaled the soldiers forwards, but the two leaders of Forgotten Wing just eyed each other.

“That could have been a disaster, Foliana. Thank you. Sincerely, for once.”

“Stalker? Has the threat been neutralized? Did you do something?”

Foliana ignored the voices shouting at her. She nodded.

“Mm. I’m jealous. All my Skills aren’t that cool. All I can do is stab lots. Open locks.”

“And catch a door that no one else could see during a time slow. Or time accelerant? I suppose that was slightly impressive.”

“Get a chronomancy expert here, now! Lord Astoragon, who—?”

“Don’t you forget it. I think I heard something behind the lock.”

Niers’ eyes sharpened. Eirnos was screaming in his ear, but he half-rose.

“Really?”

“Yep. Weird. So what did you think?”

Niers stood there and stared into the distance. He saw that [Innkeeper]’s pained expression, thought, and then murmured.

“I don’t know her. I thought I understood her, but I don’t. Parts of her I get. She’s going through what you or I did. But she’s…”

“Report to me, Niers!”

Someone shook him repeatedly until Atmodeca picked up the Fraerlings and carried them off. Niers finished his thought.

“…unexpected. That’s all. No conclusions beyond that.”

Not riveting happiness. But not disappointment either. Just thoughts. About everything she’d said. Curiosity—distractions, really. Foliana eyed Niers, then she snorted softly.

“Decent food. Hmm. And she’s your size.”

She offered him a smile, and his heart leapt in his chest and nearly came out his mouth. Niers smiled back; he couldn’t help it. Then Foliana dropped her smile.

“You’re too old for her.”

“I—know that!”

“Way too old for her. Someone inform Commander Rozcal that the Titan is too old for a twenty-year old girl.”

Every Fraerling turned to gape at Niers, and he leapt to his feet.

“Foliana, you just won a lot of goodwill. But I will hurt you—”

She hopped away.

“This is inappropriate. I forbid this as the Commander of Forgotten Wing. Good night.”

She ducked the miniature [Fireball] he fired at her head and vanished to explain to a very sleepy [Chef] exactly what the sandwich and appetizers she wanted tasted like and the names such as ‘root beer’…but not at all what they were made of.

At least she went to bed smiling.

—Well, the Titan was grinning too hard to sleep.

 

 

 

Author’s Note:

The death of Goblins like Inkpaper and all the [Witches] was a hard thing to write in this chapter. And I want to clarify why we went back to the inn so quickly and in such a heartbreaking manner. You see—I’d set up the Bloodfeast Raiders in the last few chapters around the inn. You can clearly see the foreshadowing, and—well—

If you’re confused by all this, just know that it’s come to my attention that some of my Discord moderators like reading the Author’s Notes before reading the actual chapter. They think it’s very clever of them. And I suppose it must make them feel smart until they’re utterly bamboozled like this.

Anyways, after dunking on them, let’s talk about the real stuff. Yes, this is a big one! I threw in the final Cara-Tom, Erin-Niers scenes (hey Wymae, Bookcase, you just spoiled yourself again, congratulations), despite them not necessarily fitting with the earlier parts.

It’s a big chapter, but I’m still releasing it because I think it’s satisfying narratively so long as you didn’t read it in a blur, and because I will be taking that break in August for two weeks. I’m visiting Iceland and hugely excited to see this place that looks so beautiful and surreal. So I hope you understand me not posting during that time—and that I’m putting out bigger chapters as an apology for that.

Lastly—the live event with both narrators and Matt! Put in a question or two and I’ll try to answer them! It won’t be super-long, but hopefully it’ll be fun, and it’s a great way to thank Andrea, so I hope you attend. It’ll be my first live event with other people, so I’m a bit nervous…but I’m going to be typing my best! That’s all from me. Let me know what you think of this chapter.

After so long—we have a meeting. The story moves forwards, and I’m still excited as to what’s coming next.

 

 

Ashfire Bees by Enuryn the Naturalist!

 

Calruz, Magnolia, Pisces, and more by Michael Cannon!

 

 

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