Book 8: Chapter 35

Book 8: Chapter 35

[The Wandering Inn is on its monthly week-long break! It will be back on the 14th of whatever month this is (August?), and after that for Public readers!]

Editor Contest Announcement: I am delighted to announce that the first editor I have chosen to work with from the applications is Navah Wolfe! I will be reaching out to work with her, but given how many good editors there are, I will be reaching out to a second one this time in August and will announce it as well.)

Oierdressql had fallen. Few Tallfolk knew what it meant. One of the Fraerling cities was gone, and hundreds of thousands of their people were dead, or fleeing into the unforgiving wilds.

One group of nearly two hundred thousand refugees, Fraerlings who had never even seen the outside world, had made the week-long trek through the wilds of Baleros. They had taken great casualties, despite the remnants of the Tallguard and their own high-level [Mages] and other classes trying to protect them.

Two hundred thousand?

The Architects of Paeth sat in silence. It was disaster after disaster. First Oierdressqls fall. That was a city larger than Paeth. Tallfolk had destroyed it? An army? Why?

Secondonly a fraction of its population had survived to come here? And the Skywatcher of Feiland, their very best, had died to hold the army of Tallfolk back?

Disaster, disasterthey might have sat there in stupefied horror. The Alchimeer was white and frozen, her hands at her best ingredients and reagents. Enchanter Ilekromes chest heaved up and down; he had family in Oierdressql.

It was the Guidance who rose to her feet.

Theyre all outside? Under attack?

The Judiciary stood at the same time. He commanded Paeths internal security. The panting [Secretary], whod run the message as it came up the tubes nodded.

The Tallguard have deployed! They are demanding the gates be opened! Every security personnel that can be spared

At once! Issue a Devastation-level alarm!

The Judiciary pushed past the Guidance. He found a single tube the Architects never used and barked into the Longcall tube. The slender wooden tube, enchanted to carry his voice across the interior of the tree that housed Paeth on the Coast, vibrated slightly as he shouted.

By the will of the Architects! Issue the Devastation-alarm! Lock down the city! Everyone indoors! Arm the defensive enchantments!

Enchanter Ikerome stirred. The other Architects looked up. The old Fraerling hesitated.

But the allotment

Then fell silent. Paeth was at war. Damn the allotment!

-

Outside of the gigantic redwood tree, Luan stood in the middle of a battlefield. Thousands of little people, only six inches, were rushing past him, screaming. They were just like him, but scaled down. Bloodied from fighting off monsters constantly on the way here.

Not just monsters, but giant insects. Rodents. Anything that considered a six-inch tall person a meal would go after them. And two hundred thousand?

It was like when birds found a migration of fish at sea, or a spawning of baby turtles. Luan had seen predators attacking vulnerable groups of animals on nature television before.

This same scene was replaying itself as all of the local hunters in Baleros jungles came out. Only, their prey were people who screamed and ran. With faces

Back! Back!

Luan smashed a tree branch like a club over a snarling bobcat or something. It yowled, exposing strange, glittering teeth, the tips like razors. Its fur was similarly sparkling, bits of gem-like fur tufted here and there. Suddenly, the gem-fur stopped shining and became dark, mossy, as it bounded into the underbrush. The predator slunk back and Luan shouted at it, keeping it away.

It was just one of the animals around. There was blood in the air, iron and the stench of fear coming up from the little people. Insects were slithering out of the underbrush, giant snakes, and overhead Luan could see birds circling.

Nightmares for the Fraerlings. Most were Inners, who had never desired to leave their homes, perfect little paradises hidden in Baleros jungles. They wore clothing like Luan had worn on Earth; brightly-colored cloth that was made to a quality beyond what you could normally attain outside of a Level 30 [Tailor]. Dyes that cost a lot of money for a pre-industrialized society.

They were shell shocked, terrified, running towards Paeth after their nightmare-trek. But what cut Luan deepest, like someone running him through with a cold dagger, was how they pointed to him.

Tallfolk!

The same creature that had destroyed their old home. They were threatening to stampede back into the forest. Only Sentry Leader Ekrn and the other Tallgaurd stopped them.

Into Paeth, now! Ignore the Tallfolk!

The Guidance of Oierdressql joined in the shouting, and Luan heard his voice magnify to a point where all the others heard it. His Skill helped direct the confusion, but the animals were shooting out of the brush.

It was probably seeing Luan, that first moment of panic, that had sent the wave of fear into the air. Pheromone or aurathat was what was attracting Baleros hungry to a free meal.

Or so they thought. Luan looked for a weapon, but the tree branch was all he had. That, and the compact crossbow. He loaded another bolt, aimedfired.

The kick was all he felt; he never saw the bolt fly. He did see the Gem Bobcat crumple without a sound. Luan stared at the crossbow.

Whoa.

It was far more powerful than anything Paige had dreamed of, and it was a third of the size! He broke out of his stupefaction; a shout was going up from the back of the column of Fraerlings, from someone he recognized.

Rats! An army of tinkering, gear-stealing rats!

Noa, the Tallguard Fraerling he had befriended, was waving people past her. She aimed a crossbow and shot; her own magical bolt thunked into the skull of a rat larger than she was.

Then exploded. The rats brains scattered over a huge radius and the other rodents jerked aside, staring at their comrade. Some began devouring their friend, the rest came on. And oh, there were hundreds. Thousands themselves.

A rat colony! Luan looked at the swarm in horror. He began to stride forwards, but someone bellowed.

Luan! Stay where you are!

Ekrn was in the air. He was swinging himself up via a grappling hook; the other Tallguard were using the ropes attached to branches to maneuver over the heads of the Fraerlings on the ground. He fired two crossbows, then dropped onto Luans shoulder to bellow.

I have to

The [Rower] protested. Ekrn snapped.

Youll trample the Fraerlings! Use that damn crossbow and keep the big predators down!

But the rats

Dont argue! Do it!

The [Sentry Leader] took off, his Boots of Jumping kicking Luans shoulder so hard it was like someone punched him. He flew upwards, grabbing a rope, and bellowing into an amulet.

Architects! Where is my magical support? Damn the allotment! Fire off all spells! This is not a joke! I want enchantments on the ground yesterday! I will come up there and throw all of you out of the nearest window if I dont get

Luan realized he was right. There were so many little people on the ground, running every which way, hed smash them if he moved. So he took a knee, and reloaded the crossbow, aiming it around. Where?

There. A snuffling shape in the underbrush. A boar? Luan fired, heard a squeal, and was firing again as something jerked, the powerful bolts blowing through the Stelbores armored front. It ran away, but it was one among many.

And now the bigger predators were coming to feast on the smaller ones, like some damn cartoon! Luan saw the situation cascade as a huge bird, twice as large as he was, with a vultures ripping beak and bright yellow wings, an angular body that let it swoop down like an arrow, landed and picked up the dead cat he had killed.

Oh my god!

Luan aimed the crossbow at the predator and hesitated, not sure if he wanted to attract its attention. He didnt have to choose; a crashing sound from the underbrush made him whirl.

You have got to be

A giant snake, kin to the ones that Dalys entire team had faced down, came slithering out. It ignored the Fraerlings completely; rather, it hissed at the bird, which flapped its wings, warily flying up.

Activate your Signim! Where is my magical support? Where is

Ekrn was screaming. The Fraerlings caught between giant predators, fleeing the rat swarm, and running for the tree as fast as they could, were shrieking with fear. Luan saw a giant crocodile coming up from the coast. He raised the tree branch as the giant serpent caught sight of him. It reared up, a dizzying nine feet, displaying two massive fangs dripping with a clear liquid. He aimed the crossbow up, swearing, realizing he couldnt dodge without crushing someone.

Luan!

The voice was a cry from Noa. She reached for her Signim, hanging around her neck, and prepared to drink it. So did half the Tallguard. Ekrn had the cork in his teeth when he saw a flash. He looked up, blinked.

From Paeths Tree on the Coast, the innocuous, giant tree with its vast trunk and healthy leaves, lit up. Part of the cunning illusion enchantment undid itself. Sentry Leader Ekrn looked up and saw something he had seen only twice before.

The branches on the top were glass. No, crystal. The leaves were observation ports. But they had faithfully kept to the trees design. Natural magic. The natural flow of power. Theyd just replaced parts of the tree. He saw an entire branch light up.

And then a line traced itself across his vision. A perfect line, shooting down from the glowing branch, a searing fiery orange. Ekrn swore, blinking, but the afterimage remained. He turned as Luan shouted

The giant snake collapsed backwards, a neat, smoking line carved straight through its head. Luans little crossbow bolt was lodged in the scales next to its mouth. He looked up.

Paeths tree fired another laser. It blew off the head of the bird as it tried to take off, alarmed.

Lasers?

The Human whispered. Then he saw more branches light up. A voice chimed in Ekrns ear.

This is the Guidance. Sentry Leader, activating enchantments. Sorry for the delay. What do you need?

He saw something begin flashing out of another branch. Miniature fireballs, but two a second. They curved, arcing to hit the swarms of rats. He didnt stop to think.

Give us speed and ironskin! We have to fight on the ground! Keep the majority of the swarm off us! And include the Human in the network!

One secondactivating.

Luan blinked. He saw something flash. Then, as fast as the wind, a latticework of light spread out of the tree. It flashed over him. Like a visible radar, a net that passed over everything. But it had specific targets.

The Tallguard of Feiland began to glow. Noa ducked a rat leaping at her. She speared it in the gut with her shortsword, slashed, and rolled out of the shower of blood. She came to her feet as the rat landed. Everything was slower, suddenly. She realized what had happened.

-

[Speed] enchantment is active! Activating [Ironskin].

Include the Human! I need his magical signature, now!

Enchanter Ikerome was coordinating the spells. Fraerlings were rushing past him, loading cores of condensed mana into the activation slots. They were burning more mana in this moment than they would all month. Paeth lit up like a lighthouse to any predator of magic.

It didnt matter. There were Fraerlings outside. Enchanter Ikerome received the scrambled signal that was Luan, aura and magical nature translated into an attuned crystal. He slotted it into the ritual focusing the magic onto the figures in Paeths radius.

Active! Now, [Ball Lightning]! Scatter those birds!

-

Outside, Luan felt his skin tingle just in time. Some kind of angry bird swooped down at the Human, and disgorged what looked like miniature quills, spraying him with sharp needles. He shouted, shielding himselfbut the needles just bounced off his skin.

A Fraerling flashed past him, leaping up. He threw a grappling hook which wrapped around the birds talon. As it flapped upwards in surprise, the Tallguard climbed up, aimed a crossbow, and blew the birds head off.

The Fraerlings were retreating past walls of stone and fire, even [Forcewalls] being raised on the ground to shield them. The Tallguard, buffed by Paeth, were slaughtering the predators.

How did that other city ever fall?

Luan wondered aloud. They hadnt even activated their Signim yet, and the crisis was already coming under control.

The rat swarm was ironically the hardest to stop. The rats just kept coming, now to devour their kin. Tallguard, including Noa and Ekrn, fought in ranks, keeping the ones not blasted to bits from reaching them.

Damn! How did a colony of magical rats get so close to Paeth? I need reinforcements! Stop flashing magic at themtheyre a Packmana colony! Luan, get over here and throw a tree at them or something!

Ekrn bellowed. Luan didnt see the problem at first. Then he saw the milling rats, racing all over each other, begin to activate magic of their own.

For every [Fireball] that blew groups of them apart, a rat would manifest its own mana. They were eating magic. He saw a rat look up, blink out of reality, and appear to the left as a bolt of lightning tried to tag it.

Another actually created what Luan could only describe as a forcefield, albeit like a filthy bubble of soap that made the Tallguard hacking at it swear and back up.

The rain of spells stopped, no longer empowering the rats. Luan saw most of the Fraerlings were running for the doors, and strode forward.

There! Block them! Throw that at them!

Ekrn bellowed. Luan looked left at a huge, fallen log of wood, eight feet long and three feet wide. He looked at Ekrn.

Me? I cant lift that!

Damn Tallfolk! What good are you?

Ekrn roared. He demonstrated the inherent difference in their physiques as he lifted a rats corpse and threw it into the milling mass of them, distracting the others who devoured their buddy.

Boss! Reinforcements are five seconds out! Tallguard Crelerbreakers deploying!

At last.

Ekrn whirled. Figures were launching out of ports higher in Paeth. It had only been minutes; an eternity in a battle, but he saw them leaping to land like comets on the ground. He bellowed to the Tallguard forming a line.

Fall back! Armor coming in!

He ran back as Luan kicked a wall of rats and shouted as they raced up his leg in retaliation. They tried to bite his enchanted skin, then tried to eat his enchantment. He retreated, knocking them flying.

Then the Human saw the Fraerlings last line of defense.

Crelerbreakers. His first impression was that there were Fraerling Dullahans. War Walkers, the [Juggernauts] in armor like Xol.

Then he realized they were regular Fraerlings, just coated in a kind of dull orange-red armor. NoLuan squinted. It wasnt rusty, but some kind of deeper color. It seemed plain at first, but he realized the color kept shifting depending on how the light hit it. They strode forwards, battleaxes and claymores in hand. No shields.

The rats swarmed over them as the hundred Tallguard formed a line. They vanished and Luan feared they were dead. He began to stride forwards, but Ekrn called him back.

Dont bother. They have this.

Luan looked and saw a squiggling mass of rats tails and faces, biting, squeaking. Then the first sword cut through one as a Fraerling slashed around him. He or she emerged from the mass, unharmed, rats biting the armor and squealing in dismay.

What is that?

Luan pointed at the armor, so perfectly made that there werent even airholes in the visors; just glowing crystal eyes so the Fraerling could see out of them. If he had been to Salazsar, he would have realized that the Drakes had a similar group of armored infantry.

The only difference was that Paeth had only a hundred. And that the Walled City of Gems elites were a lot cheaper than Crelerbreakers.

Ekrn snorted. He stared at the armor, some of it so ancient that it predated the term Crelerbreaker that came from the Creler Wars, six thousand years back. It did not rust, nor decay. Norwere rats going to eat through it, even the ones who could gnaw on diamonds.

That? Thats Adamantium, Luan. What, never seen it?

Luans head swung back. His jaw dropped.

-

We need to open all our food stores. Were brewing more healing potions as fast as we can. Its space we need. Food

Well activate our gardens spells for quick growth. Were already over our allotment. But we need food, to find a place for them alland to know if other settlements are under attack.

In the aftermath, Paeth took stock. The attack of scavengers had been defeated with ease. So much so that Luan had been right to question Oierdressqls fall.

Enchanter Ikerome shook his head as he surveyed the damage.

I cant understand it. Oierdressql had similar spells. A village I could understand falling. But Oierdressql? Sentry Leaderhow could it happen?

The Guidance of Oierdressql opened his mouth, but he was shaking, adrenaline leaving him as he was wrapped in a blanket enchanted with [Warmth] spells. It was a tired Ekrn who kicked a rats head over to a group of [Butchers] salvaging as much meat as they could before the rest was disposed of. Somehow.

The Human was digging a hole and helping cart it away so more scavengers wouldnt come. But the plain fact was that all the magic Paeth had unleashed had turned them into a lighthouse. Normally theyd worry about even Tallfolk noticing. Given the situation? Ekrn knew they were already coming.

We could kill even an Adult Creler with our defensive spells alone, Enchanter. Maybe. Bastards soak up direct magic spells. However, thats one Creler. How many times can we fire the [Beam of Zillac]? A hundred times? A thousand? Tallfolk can muster armies of tens of thousands, and we have to use our best spells to take them out. They can justoverrun us. Its like the rats. Just six feet taller.

The Architects of Paeth looked at each other. Then at Luan, as he trudged over to haul more bones and scraps away. A [Necromancer] came running over.

No, stop! I need those bones!

Something had to be done. Guidance looked at Ekrn.

We must find out why this is happening. I need someone to reach the Forgotten Wing Company. The Farspeaker is already talking to other settlements. Andfood, supplies? Even mana stones?

Ekrn nodded.

Ill have ten volunteers within the hour, Guidance. As for the rest? Id say tighten our belts and do what we can. However

He and all the Fraerlings glanced up at the Human tossing bones out of the pile for the [Necromancer], who needed them to perform bone-mending spells. Luan glanced up, sensing the gazes.

As it happened, Paeth, the reclusive village of Fraerlings, the hidden settlement known to only a handful of Tallfolk, could no longer sit in isolation. It neededa delivery.

The City Runner got his most unusual job yet.

-

Conflict was the event of the day. Also, the month. Year?

Conflict, war, battle, engagements, altercations, crusadesthey got old. Sometimes, you had to wonderdidnt you get tired of it all? Of so much killing?

Ryoka Griffin was not made of the right stuff to be a [General]. She had known that for a while, of course, but she truly lacked what could give someone the will to fight as a way of life. To go from battle to battle, even as a ruler of a nation, war to costly war.

That was arrogance. That wasambition. Desire. A callous indifference for those you sent to their deaths. A driving greed, or hunger. Something which, in Humans, set them apart. The warlord that could unite a hundred tribes or countries.

It was a characteristic more suited to the being twining around itself, scales rippling, who could rise to the top of the four hundred foot high room, whoinhabited Ailendamus palace, and had made his den out of entire wings of the royal quarters.

Duke Rhisveri. Rhisveri Zessoprical, the uncle of King Itorin II. That was who he pretended to be, using a puppet, rather, no, exactly like Teriarch did with Eldavin.

In actualitya Wyrm. A true mastermind behind the throne.

Wyrm. Cousin to Dragons. A serpentine nightmare, often spoken of in legends without the Dragons temperamental nobility; a force of evil in many stories, like Jrmungandr, the World Serpent from Norse mythology.

Yet, Ryoka realized that the stories were stories. They failed to capture the truth of Wyrms, or at least, this one.

Rhisveri was beautiful. His grandeur was not the metallic shine of Teriarchs brass scales, which could reflect the light like gold itself, a rippling mane of bronze hair. Yet he was larger than Teriarch, who was the size of the largest aircraft in Ryokas world.

And his scales were jade. His eyes were green, like Ryokas, but both they and his scales were variations of jade. Not green, which evoked grass or plants, but the lustrous stone considered to be among the most valuable in Ryokas world.

Nothing else would do but jade to describe his scales. They had a kind of glowing luster; Ryoka realized they might be semi-transparent, so that you could see how they deepened to a gem-like quality.

Nor was Rhisveris body any less impressive; the green faded to a pale white or even beige, like the sand of a beach on his underbelly. White jade. Jade came in all colors, after all.

He also had two claws; just two, which he could use to support himself as he looked down at her, or adjust his posture.

So, not a Wyrm which had no limbs at all and was entirely serpentlike. Technicallya Lindwyrm, which had two claws. Just like how a Wyvern had no front limbs, unlike Dragons who had all four.

Dragon-facts. If that was a magazine, Ryoka would have been the #1 subscriber.

There were differences between Rhisveri and Teriarch, however. The biggest being that Teriarch had not chased Ryoka across Izril, zapping her with curse spells and sending an army after her. Nor had Teriarch installed himself in a position of power in Ailendamus.

Lastly? Ryoka had been sprayed with mating pheromones by Sikeri, the damned Wyrm shed met at the party of the fae in Riverfarm. She stared up at Rhisveri.

Matingmating pheromones?

He was giving her a similar stare, almost goggle-eyed, turning one huge eye to gaze down at her, then swinging his head the other direction as if the other eye would reveal something the first had not.

Ryoka stood protectively over Sammial. The little boy was unconscious, and the Wyrm had forgotten all about him. Hed tried to kill Sammial, just like that.

Not like Teriarch at all. Ryoka was sweating. Incredulous. She had thought she was coming here to negotiate with a Dragon, allay his or her wrath, and steal or barter for the mysterious scroll that Ivolethe had said could help Erin most of all.

Instead? Wyrm. That wasnt badoff-target, but not bad.

Sammial being here? Very bad. Whoever had killed that [Knight] mid-teleport? Exceptionally bad.

Ryoka being turned into an interdimensional love letter for a hookup?

Insulting, really. If she and Sikeri ever met again, why, theyd, theydRyoka would probably run for her life. But shed say something as she ran screaming! Something pithy.

Ryoka got to see the Wyrm decision-making process and personality at play. You ran into a Dragons cave dying, insulting him, or literally having your heart explode in front of him? He healed you. Now, maybe that was one Dragon and this was a generalization, not to be taken as a whole indictment or generalization for the species

But the secondwaitfifth Wyrm that Ryoka had ever met took one look at her, appearing in his private abode after hed kidnapped her, smelling of a female Wyrm, and came to a conclusion.

This is a trick. A Dragons odor and a female Wyrm? What a pathetic gesture. Which one sent you? Tell me. Right before I kill you.

Ryoka went for her Faeblade, despite it having shattered on his scales. The wind formed a wall

Something smashed her flat, then lifted her into the air. She floated in front of Rhisveri. The Wyrm snarled.

Which one? Tell me! Then, Thief, you will suffer for invading my treasury. Did you think you could escape? Did you think one of your precious Five Families would make me hesitate?

Ryoka liked Wyrms a lot less than Dragons right now. She gasped, as an invisible hand gripped her.

II didnt know I was covered in pheromones. Listen to me, I didnt know I was stealing from Ailendamus

Lies. How did you get in? Which one wanted that scroll? How did they findout I had it? That damned salamander, spitting fire? Is he alive? Or is it the monster of war? That arrogant fool under the waves? Which one?

Ryokas eyes were round. Three? She knew one. Salamander? If she ever met himhadnt Teriarch mentioned them too?

None of them! Im serious! I metI met one. But listen, I did meet a Wyrm. She was

Do not speak our name, mortal. You have no right.

Something squished her. Ryoka screamed. It was not a warning gesture; she felt something tear as her organs compressed. She hung there, limply.

My people lie dead. I do not know which fool it was, but I will kill you over a thousand years if you taunt me one moment further. The last female Wyrm died ages ago.

Rhisveri roared. He wasangry. He whirled around the room, his huge serpentine form moving fast. His voiceRyoka, swimming in a red haze, came to one thought amid the shattering pain.

It ached. She heard his voice boom again, but she was seriously hurt. Seriously

Worthless little thing.

Something splashed over her. Ryoka jerked. She felt her bones and internals begin to knit. She realized blood was running down her mouth. Looked up.

Had he justspat on her? Ryoka spluttered out some faintly greenish-yellow liquid. Rhisveri glared at her.

Where is your artifact? How are you lying?

He shook her up and down, flipped her over. Ryoka yelped.

Im not lying! Stop! St

Her clothes vanished. Ryoka turned crimson as she spun in the air, but the Wyrm just glared at her, searching her for

Some kind of spell? Whoever tried to stop me wasnt that good at magic. How are you lying? How are you

Put me down! Give me back my clothes!

Ryoka had had enough. She shouted. The Wyrm ignored her. He was muttering another spell as Ryoka inhaled. She didnt know how she did it. She was justfurious. He wasnt listening to her puny voice; he could mutter and be louder than her a hundred times over. But she shouted and the wind boomed.

-

King Itorin II was holding court. Or rather, making his royal appearance as he heard the pleas of the citizens of the realm. It was for show; he had a bureaucracy in place which took care of most problems.

However, this was a good show. He knew what the issues were, of course, and had his answers ready, but he made a show of hearing them out as his people watched, in awe of his proclamations and cunning replies. He was leaning over his throne to hear a weeping woman tell him about a murder, when a voice rang through the palace.

Sikerival-Toreshio-Maresssui!

It was not a voice as you normally heard it. It sounded female, and there was pitch and cadence. Yet it did not transmit through the air. The wind itself screamed it.

The throne room echoed as people whirled. The [Knights] surrounded their [King], but Itorin II had already sensed where it came from. He raised a hand.

Damn him. What now?

I believe a spell has gone astray. I was informed this might happen. Pray, continue. I shall not ignore my peoples plight.

He calmed the people in the throne room and they looked at him in awe. Itorin II cursed internally. But he would askcarefullywhat his uncle was up to. Later.

-

The Wyrm had stopped, mid-rant. He looked at Ryoka. The roar of the Wyrms name had also surprised him, as much as Ryokas act in itself.

Thatthat is not the name of any Wyrm I know. Thatwhat strange magic is this? You have no classes. No levels. Are you a throwback? Some strange?

He twisted around her, staring. Ryoka was still naked and deeply resented that fact.

Put me down. I did not lie. You know I didnt lie. Andgive me back my clothes!

It has to be a lie. If its not? This is that she-Wyverns doing. Only she would be this cruel. The other two might be arrogant lizards, but they could not be this evil. I thought they were all dead. Or at least

He ignored her. Ryoka got angrier. Rhisveri murmured and her skin constricted again, but not with physical pressure; more like someone wrapping cling-wrap around her, invisible, powerful.

Tell me the truth.

I met her. Sikeri! A Wyrm! And three more!

How is this thing lying?

Rhisveri stared through Ryoka. He flipped her upside down and shook her repeatedly, as if to shake out some secret relic. Ryoka lost her temper twice.

Iam Ryokawilldown

She nearly threw up. The shaking didnt stop and then Rhisveri was drawing closer. He sniffed her and it happened again. Ryoka couldnt speak for being rattled around. But the wind roared in her voice.

In the name of the Faerie King, put me down!

Rhisveri froze. He tilted Ryoka up. Her clothes didnt reappear. Nor did she float downwards. The Wyrm eyed Ryoka, then spoke.

Is that what theyre styling themselves as, now? Thats a stupid name.

Then he went back to inspecting her from all angles, rotating her for a better view like someone inspecting a toy.

Ryoka was so thrown by the lack of comprehension she was stunned. Right up until her legs spread apart.

You bastard!

Relax, thing. There is absolutely nothing I could be interested in.

Rhisveri replied absently. He frowned.

Do I have to cut you in half? Did they write the spell on your bones?

The Wind Runners eyes snapped open. Her blood was boiling. It was one thing to insult her, to stare at her, to strip her nakedno, actually, that was everything wrong.

But also, the Faerie King? He didnt know? He didnt? She howled the name.

By the will of the King of the Fae, put me down! By his name! Oberon!

This time, she fell out of the air. Rhisveri caught her with magic a second later, but she saw his entire body twitch. He stared at her, and then around.

What was that name? Thats not the name of a Treant. Thatsdont say that name again, you wretched Human! How? The gateway folk?

Then his eyes went round. Ryoka was satisfied. She pointed a trembling hand at him.

Give me my clothes. Put me down. Speak to me, Wyrm, by his name! Oberon!

Stop saying it!

He looked around, nervously. Ryoka said it.

Oberon. Oberon! OBERON!

The air shook. Rhisveri flinched. Ryoka hit the ground, clothed, as the Wyrm reared back, his eyes flashing. In a defensive stance. The air hummed as he and Ryoka waited. The wind went still.

But no one came.

Rhisveri relaxed, slowly, and almost smiled. Almost. But he couldnt deny the power in the name. Ryoka stood there, breathing slowly. She looked up at Rhisveri.

I am Ryoka Griffin. Friend of the fae! Friend of the other world, and the name even you must respect, Wyrm. I have met your kind. I have met Sikerival-Toreshio-Maresssui. I did not mean to steal from you, and I came here to make peace. Will you listen to me?

She spread her arms wide as Sammial stirred. The boy twitched, and Rhisveri looked at him. The Wyrm slowly bent lower, and he looked at her.

Not through her, as he had been this entire time. As, perhaps, Ryoka realized, he had been from the start. Thief, he had called her, without even knowing her name.

Now Rhisveri Zessoprical, whose full name she would learn later, looked at the Wind Runner from another world. He met her eyes, and the full weight of his presence struck her. His eyes drew her into a void of their own. Not mismatched. Beautiful, a serpents eyes which saw time itself.

Of course. Did you think we were like Dragons? You have met one. What a strange creature you are.

The thoughts struck her. The Wyrm narrowed his eyes, and Ryoka heard his voice, in its way as loud as he was.

Strange.This has been an exceedingly strange day. The Deathless awake. I smell my kin I thought long dead inviting me to mate. A girl commands the power of the wind without Skill or class and invokes the name of a king that rules no land in this world. A strange day.

I call that Tuesday.

The Wyrm blinked at her remark. Ryoka turned red. It had just slipped out. Ryoka-snark. She saw his eyes narrow, and feared the worst as his mouth opened, scales bulging. The Wyrm looked down at her, and then barked.

Hah!

Wind knocked her flat, the acrid tones of acid, chemicals, and other scents, not actually unpleasant. Not like bad breath; just the breath of a creature as otherworldly as Teriarch. She realized it hadnt been an attack.

Hedlaughed. He tried to stifle the laughter, but he snorted, then glared at her as if it were a weakness exposed. Rhisveri sniffed her.

So one of my kind lives?

Y-yes.

Ryoka saw him frown. He peered at her again. Then, Rhisveri did the smoothing trick, rubbing his head against part of his body. He coughed.

ThisSikerival-Toreshio-Maresssui. She truly is a female Wyrm? Not one of my kind.

Um. No, no legs.

And she truly exists? She came here? Somehow? I had no idea

She did.

I assume you do not know her full name, then. But ah, was she large? How many hundreds of feet? What coloration?

Ryoka stared at him. She had a sinking feelingshe hesitated.

I never saw her full size. She was uhvariable. But she was up to two hundred feet in the air at one point. I think her scales were obsidian? Deep purple.

And that wasnt her full size?

Ryoka shook her head. Rhisveri hummed.

My. Did she have fins? Those curved fins along the side of the head that

Then he caught himself and glowered at Ryoka.

Not that I believe you, Thief! This is all very, very suspect. But I can see I have underestimated the prey Ive caught. And you

He frowned. Now he inspected Ryoka, his head easily moving around her from all angles. Ryoka covered herself protectively with her limbs. Rhisveri rolled his eyes.

Please. What kind of degenerate lusts after mammals? Get a Dragon for thator are you used to it? I know one of them is part of it. Nowhat a strange weapon. You have anti-magic cuffs on you. They are working. But the wind listens to you. Why does that work?

He eyed the Faeblade, deactivated. Then his eyes frowned even further.

And what valuable treasures are these?

He stared down at something lying on the ground. Hed been able to take them off her, but even his clothing disintegration magic hadnt removed Namas footwraps. Rhisveri stared at them, then sniffed the air.

You havea number of very valuable things. Thats worthless. Why?

He stared at the Faeblade. Then he frowned at the footwraps.

Thats valuable. Thats as valuable asand what do you have? Seleven priceless artifacts? Give them to me.

He twined closer around Ryoka, his appreciation of Sikeris pheromones turning to pure avarice. Ryoka started. Eleven?

She couldnt imagine most objects she had were valuable to someone like him. Buteleven?

That just happened to be the number of autographs a certain trio of the same King had given her. One to keep, some to give away, or barter

Dont you dare take them from me!

The Wyrm glared down at Ryoka, genuinely insulted.

Do I look like a thief, Thief? I dont steal. I earn what is mine by right of conquest and war! You have something valuable. Give them to me.

What, just like that?

Let me see them and I will make you a boon. I may spare your life after all. I may return this brat of a Human back. You have incurred my wrath. But give all elevenwhatevertheyare to me, and I will be most generous. Do you want to trade?

He purred. Ryoka saw the Wyrms demeanor change at once. He turned his head.

Ill give you a block of gold. I have a hundred pounds of it. Or a flying carpet. Humans love to fly. Show me what you have. Come on.

His personality had changed instantly, to someone bartering for a collectible item. Thatthat was the closest to Teriarch that Ryoka had seen. She fished in her belt pouch, reluctantly. She needed to speak to him.

I wont give you this. But if I show it to you, will you let me explain?

Bah, youre in trouble anyways. Give me one for free and I may relent. Yes. I may even let you go! But I want answers. Show it to me. Whats so valuable?

He sniffed, scentingwhat, value? Ryoka hid the scrap of paper. Mere cardboard, but written on by the King of Chivalry himself. Rhisveri peered at it, fascinated. So, Ryoka reluctantly held up the signature by the King of Camelot as he lay dying on the hill, waiting for Sir Bedivere to relinquish Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake.

That glorious, imperfect King of Knights. It was the second-most valuable signature of the three to her. After the boy who was bravest of all, the failed King who had done his utmost and failed.

A reminder.

King Arthur Pendragon.

Rhisveris eyes focused on the letters, written so beautifully in flowing font, the same handwriting that graced royal decrees, practiced countless times over a life.

His voice caught in his throat. The Wyrm reared back. Ryoka thought he was amazed at first. Then she realized.

He saw something in the letters she did not. Like Sammial. Like Tyrion. Only, the Wyrm did not kneel. He took one look at the signature and shouted in a voice that resounded through the halls. Quieter than Ryokas wind, caught by the spells of silence and secrecy here.

But a scream, a shriek of mortal terror. The castle boomed as Rhisveri bellowed.

[DRAGONSLAYER]!

He was halfway out of the vast chamber and slithering away before the instinctual terror subsided. Ryoka saw the huge, slithering back of Rhisveri disappearthen the sounds of movement stop. There was a dreadful minute of embarrassed silence. Then his head poked out of the hallway, glaring at her.

It took all of Ryokas willpower not to laugh.

-

At the same time as Ryoka was experiencing the joys of exhibitionism, the colony of natural nudists, the Antinium, were undergoing a kind ofrenaissance.

After all, Antinium Workers and Soldiers didnt wear the mostly pointless loincloths or any other clothing in the Hive. That wasnt the point.

The point was that there was a new Individual in the Hive. Or maybe, if not Individualan Antinium of note.

Silveran, Garry, Belgrade, Anand, Pawn, Yellow Splattersthe names were increasing in number. There were the two female Antinium, Chesacre, Thaina, the Flying Antinium who were Garrys apprentices, and more.

This was all good. However, something was now apparent that had not been before. Only by this new Antiniums existence was a trend revealed, and it was this:

All of the Individuals were beloved. All of them were respected, insofar as the Antinium understood it.

Of course, that was natural. What kind of Antinium would dislike another Antinium? If anything, the Individuals were as to heroes of their kind. Those who exemplified some great trait.

For instance, Antinium were working under Silverans Cleaners, a business started because Silveran was too good at cleaning. Hed expanded his work to the entire street, and his cleaners also did store work!

That was the kind of thing a single Individual Antinium could do. How could that be negative?

Wellthe most hated Antinium in the entire Free Hive was somehow not the late, and debatably great, Klbkch. His name was Furfur. Furfur. And yes, that related to his entire role in life.

There were new inhabitants in the Free Hive. Little, mewling balls of fur that played around, wandered from place to place, and had a horde of fascinated Antinium following them at any given second.

Cats. And three racing little barking things called puppies.

They had all been abandoned when Silveran found them. Someone had tried to wedge a basket into a sewer grate. He had found the puppies running around, feral.

So Silveran had brought them back. Now, the Antiniums first pets roamed about, bringing something that even the regular Antinium had never experienced before.

Petting a cat and feeling it purr as it fell asleep in your arms. Playing fetch with a little puppy.

It was like drugs to the average Soldier and Worker. It was a considerable problem, as a single puppy could halt the entire Hive in the area if it ran through their transportation tunnels. Thus, the animals had to be contained. A few doors were installed, and Antinium coveted the right to be in their area.

All was well, right? Right?

Wrong. The problem was self-evident to anyone who knew animals. Which, because this was an Antinium Hive, had been almost no one.

Yes, the average Antinium could give 200% of the pets, scratches, and combings to a cat as the inferior Humans, Drakes, and Gnolls. Yes, they had more unconditional love than even the doggies did for the beloved creatures.

And that was the problem. The kittens and puppies soon realized that their experience of starving to death on Liscors streets was now replaced by a group of insects who would instantly clean up any poo, feed them the instant they were hungry, and pamper them nonstop.

Even Sariant Lambs couldnt dream of an existence this hedonistic in their evil little brains. And that was the problem.

Miss Beclaire. Did you say you thought someone else had yournew class?

The worlds first [Goth] looked up. She had come from Earth, with the countless other men and women. Children and adults. Many had asked to be made into [Mages], [Wizards], [Warriors], and more.

She? She had refused. She knew exactly what she was. And her class was a mystery to the Rhir-born experts. She nodded, as Roodney rolled his eyes at her dark makeup, her attire of two colors; black and white.

Im as surprised as you are that its a class, Lord Hayvon. But it makes sense. Its a way of life. Being a [Goth], that is. I told you it could be a class.

Her triumphant look at some of the others made Hayvon nod.

But what does it, ah, do?

Beclaire pursed her lips. She tried to explain, as a [Strategist] hurried over, taking notes.

Being a [Goth] is about culturesome people will tell you were dark and depressing, but in truth, a lot of us love music, poetry, writing, and so on. Its about elegance. You see

She kept talking, as the [Lord] and [Strategist] exchanged glances. They began to realizethis was not a combat-class. His Majestys great warriors were

Interesting.

And now there were two of them in the entire world.

[Goths].

It was just one of those things that happened.

-

It was about Earthers. Which one did you get? Sometimes you got unlucky, and they had the lifespans of mayflies.

Other times you got the lucky card. With significant downsides like a Tom. Or a Ryoka which waswell, Ryoka. What was the value of an Erin? A card that started a revolution in your deck was interesting, to say the least.

And sometimes you got the kind of young man whod jump on a Wyvern because a [Spice Chef] invited him to.

AKevin.

Goblinhome was in the middle of fortifying itself. Goblins were preparing for a fight. What was new? Goblins loved fighting, or it seemed to outside observers. Rather, Goblins might say were preparing to defend ourselves because we keep being killed, but it was semantics.

Poor Goblins. Goblins so sad. Goblins die. Goblins have tragic lives of persecution. As if they were the only species that had a target on their foreheads.

It got old. So if there were clandestine observers in the High Passes, watching Goblinhome, from, say, oh, a cliff three miles higher up, theyd get pretty tired of Goblins being Goblins. Especially since they knew Goblins. The little dangerous man and those adventurers had been more interesting.

So normally there wouldnt be much interest in the Goblins, even though it was clear they were gearing up for a big fight. Theyd added more walls, dropped the pretense of hiding their base, and were creating even more traps. Tamed Wyverns were flying around, ferrying supplies to another base.

Boring. But this? The cliff was filled with camouflaged shapes, pointing. Nowwhat was this? Their eyes locked on the lucky, wild card.

Kevin shot down the slope, screaming.

Im going to die

The magic skateboard was going too fast. In theory, skateboards, that precision machine, should only have worked properly with a flat slope, which you could get from certain natural geographical phenomenon, but really belonged to the world of concrete and industry from his world.

That was, until a mad Dwarf created mithril-alloy ball bearings and an ultra-light frame out of Titanium and married it to an [Enchanter]s over-tuning such that the board nearly had negative weight.

And then cast a [Grease] enchantment on the wheels, so the usual friction didnt apply.

There was a reason skateboarders wore helmets. Kevin had chosen what hed thought was a gentle gradient on the High Passes. He went screaming down the slope as he chose the wrong way and dropped nearly a hundred feet on an accelerating skateboard.

Even sohe saw a natural ramp coming up and took a risk. Kevin uttered a prayer without word and ollied off the ramp.

His audience watched, hundreds of Goblins with their mouths open, as Kevin flew overhead. It was a beautiful death. The young man should have died, flying off his piece of wood as he launched over the roof of Goblinhome, past the smoke chimneys with their black exhaust, and promptly breaking both legs before tumbling head-first into one of the cooking chimneys and burning alive.

He did not. Like magic, his feet seemed to cling to the skateboard. He landed, and shot down the natural incline, turning, whooping, and then did a 360-degree turn

Straight off the top of the fortress. That time he did lose control and went tumbling head-over-heels. Goblins scattered and the rest covered their eyes. Kevin hit the ground and bounced.

Whoa!

A ring on his hand flashed and the young man sat up. He was panting, but his eyes were as wild as his hair. Goblins stared at the non-splattered Human as he kicked the skateboard up into his hands.

That was incredible!

They looked at each other. The crowd on the cliff pointed at the interesting person.

They liked this Human.

-

Everyone liked Kevin. What natural charisma let some people ingratiate themselves with whoever they met?

It was probably the willingness to go with the flow. A lack of judgement or going huh? every two seconds.

Rags liked Kevin, and she was surprised. He was just souncomplicated. Rags had known Erin, who was like a puddle you stepped into and began drowning in. Ryoka? Ryoka was like a two-headed Ogre, with one head who told you lies, and the other one told you the truth, but both heads hated each other and the Ogre kept running around screaming about her personal issues.

Kevin? Rags watched out of her window as Goblins scurried around her, building into the stone cliff. They were expanding Goblinhome from a single base into multiple areas. Preparing for a fight. You didnt want to have all your forces in one spot; too easy to nuke.

Which was something else about Kevin. When you asked him something, prepared to bribe, bully, or beg, he told you.

Im from Earth.

Just like that. No arm-twisting. No torture. He justcame out with it. Without even being asked. He came over, after touring Goblinhome, asked for a meeting, and said I know youre Erins friends. Can I help?

Not to say Kevin was an idiot. Rather, it was just the young man taking a good, hard look around. At the many factions competing for Earthers. Wistram, Liscor, Pallass, and more. And then at the one group that had always had Erins back. He chose a side, and educated them.

Rags head hurt. She was still digesting the big news, that Erin was from another world. Of course, shed known that, but a world full of Humans? It explained so much.

Would Erin have told her? Wellshe watched Kevin show off one of the objects hed brought in his bag of holding. He wanted to get back to Solar Cycles, and she wanted one of the bicycles hed promised her. For now? He was the most popular Human that Goblinhome had ever known.

Way better than those annoying Gold-ranks. Goblins were watching Kevin try a tri-flip; he was out of practice, but he had Hedaults ring that protected him from almost all falling injuries.

A skateboarders dream. And not even that; Goblins practically carried him up the slopes, begging him to go down an even steeper gradient. Kevin was protesting, but mildly. They were pointing and Rags could read what they were saying.

If youre not going to die from falling, do a jump off that! The Human took a look at a wood ramp two Goblins were dragging over.

At the bottom of a three-hundred foot hill as steep, possibly steeper than Pallass ramps. They were asking him to do a jump off that and a skateboard trick through the air. He looked at the certain-awesome-death ramp, checked the ring on his finger, and looked at the cheering Goblins.

Because he was Kevin?

He went for it.

-

At the same time, a little Goblin was stomping out of Goblinhome to shout at the happy people. She was in a bad mood.

Poisonbite was one of Rags top lieutenants, especially with Snapjaw and Badarrow being away. Shed joined Team Rags from the start, and had been rewarded for her loyalty.

The problem? She was short. As inphysically short.

She wasnt a Hob. Oh, shed grown a bit, but not like Rags, or Redscar or a lot of others. It was clear that the [Poisoner Rogue] wasnt high-enough level yet. She had worked her way from being a [Stabber], a [Poisoner], into her class as a higher-level Goblin.

But she just didnt have whatever made HobsHobs, rather than regular Goblins. And Poisonbite resented it. She had a deep fear that being a non-Hob would mean shed lose her place; a trait inherited from Mountain City politics.

So shed been sulking, snapping at her group of stealth-Goblins, the mostly-female band who employed poison. Everyone was turning out to be better than she was! Even Greybeard had turned out to be Greydath of Blades, Goblin Lord and one of the most powerful Goblins ever. She was still mad about him hiding in her ranks for all this time.

She was a Hob in the making, but her height had yet to sprout up like a sunflower. Poisonbite was angry, and as she strode outside, she saw Kevin shooting down the ramp.

Poisonbite had heard of the Human that the Chieftain had brought back. She hadnt been impressed. Now? She caught her first sight of Kevin just as he went off the ramp.

The [Mechanic] shot up into the air. His skateboard floated past him as Poisonbites jaw opened. She and ten thousand Goblins watched as Kevins arms spread. He grabbed his skateboard, floated his arms and legs out to form a cross, and performed a backflip Christ air through the sky.

He broke every Earth-record as he soared for no less than thirty seconds. Over Goblinhome. Over the heads of Poisonbite and the others.

Over the cliff.

Oh shiiii

He survived, of course, thanks to Hedaults ring. There was no fear for Kevin. He had bypassed the simple law of if I land wrong, I might break every bone in my body. The world was open to him. Of courseHedault was even better at skateboarding.

Poisonbite knew none of this. She just ran to the cliff and saw Kevin signalling for a Wyvern to pick him up. She stared down at him.

It was love at first sight. When Kevin landed amid the cheering Goblins, Poisonbite strode over. She looked up at the Human.

Then she took his skateboard.

Hey!

Poisonbite lovingly stroked the beautiful object. Then she took off running with it. She shot down a hill, minus Kevins ring. Poisonbite didnt care. This was

Kevin watched the little Goblin wipe out on a stone. Poisonbite flewhit the groundbouncedhe winced. Then covered his eyes.

Oh no.

-

Rags watched one of her lieutenants lying as a Goblin [Healer] laughed his ass off at her, then applied some healing potions. She shook her head.

If good Goblins die to skateboards

It looked like a lot of fun. Deadly fun, but what other kind was there? She looked back at her interesting guest.

Sorry. I really didnt expect her to just yank the board andgo. No one skateboards like that. We have skating parks where its safe. Not cliffs.

Rags waved a hand.

Poisonbite is stupid. She likes you.

Is that the Goblin who wiped out like that? Shes cool. She could be a [Boarder]. As in skateboarder.

The Chieftain of the Flooded Waters tribe hesitated.

That a good class?

Kevin hesitated. He poked at a frittata that was loaded with Calescents spices. It was probably notbad, but neither Rags nor Kevin touched the snacks in her new, personal office.

Uhits all about skateboarding. I heard some kids in Pallass got it.

Soits about doing tricks on skateboards?

Mhm. Ah, its really...good. And not too spicy! Is something wrong with Calescent?

Kevin chewed on a frittata. Rags tried one after that. She wondered if the [Spice Chef] was sick.

No [Boarder] class, then. Waste of levels.

Youre the Chieftain. Uhsorry. Should I call you Chieftain Rags or?

Rags is fine. I call you Kevin.

The Goblin flicked her fingers. Kevin grinned in relief.

Cool. Thanks.

She eyed him. Looks were deceiving. Kevin might be more of an Erin-puddle, rather than just a buffoon.

So. You want to tell me about Earth?

Kevin was checking a second frittata for telltale spices. He glanced up.

What? I meanyeah. Anything you want. You said you were thinking it over. I can tell you about all kinds of stuff. Magnoliathat was, Lady Magnoliamade us organize it all. I can give you most of it in order. Anything that helps. Gears. I have tons of gears and stuff; that might help. Ive seen your ballistas and stuff. Its amazing.

He meant her Thunderbows, the oversized crossbows made with Wyvern bone and sinew. Rags nearly smiled at the compliment, but she studied him.

Why? Why are you being so open?

Kevin popped the second piece of frittata into his mouth. He and Rags waited as he chewed and swallowed. They were deeply suspicious of Calescents motives, but they didnt realize hed gotten a new Skill. [Hot Enough For You]; a way to save the tongues of countless Goblins. They would celebrate it later when they found out.

Idont mind telling you. I mean, theres all kinds of stuff.

Guns. Bullets. Fighter planes. Nukes.

Rags watched Kevin cautiously. The Earthers all tended to emphasize the scale of war on Earth to non-Earthers as a way to build perspective. Nothing like telling someone you could vaporize a city to reassure them your planet was nice.

You tell us all this very secret stuff. Things Erin and Ryoka told you never to share. Not to Wistram. Not to Magnolia. Not to anyone. To Goblins. Monsters. Why?

Kevin glanced up. He chewed on the snack, then reached for Eater Goat milk. Rags didnt see a vapid look in his eyes when he glanced up.

Because it seems like Goblins have the short stick. I mean, everyone calls you monsters. Erin told me you guys saved her life. You said you were going to help bring her back. Pallass has an agenda. I dont really like Grimalkin. Hes not stupid; hes ruthless. Chaldion scares the crap out of me. Wistram tried to kidnap me. Twice. Magnolia is just as scary. Soyou guys seem like the best out of everyone. You have to trust someone. Ive rocked out with Numbtongue. No one else is half as cool.

Rags blinked at Kevin. He gave her a look and she upgraded her assessment of his intelligence. He was a social, easy-going Human. But not an idiot. It took a special kind of person to know how to make friends with Goblins by doing something stupid.

Alright. Tell me more.

The Goblins crimson eyes glittered. Shed call in her lieutenants for this. Later. Her mind was spinning with all the information Kevin had.

And it was truea lot of it was useless. Okay, there were things called guns. How did you make them? Gunpowder. How did you make that, or the mechanisms inside?

Long-term projects. However, Goblins were nothing if not opportunistic. Case in point? Redscar had sat in on Kevins crash course on the history of warfare on Earth. He wasnt shaken like many military minds were. He was just trying to figure out how you fought a war without line-of-sight against Humans.

Deep underground, in mazes, probably. Watch out for landmines. He didnt have a way to copy their weapons. What he did have was one of the new Redfangs who had tamed a Wyvern.

The female Redfang was lying on her sleeping cot, uncomfortably trying to nap as a [Shaman] handed her a sleeping draught. Eighteen Redfangs crowded around her. They were chanting, loudly, then softly as she tried to fall asleep.

[Fighter Pilot]. [Fighter Pilot]. [Fighter Pilot]. [Fighter Pilot]

It could work.

-

Rags had drawn the lucky card with Kevin. Not because he knew how to make gunpowder. Not because he was the most expert at the fundamentals of math, or groundbreaking ideas that would revolutionize the world in ages to come.

Rather, because he was a mechanic who knew bicycles and just enough about metallurgy to be the most helpful Human ever. He took one look at her crossbows and nodded.

Alright. So theyre not ballistae, see? Theyre crossbows.

Whats the difference?

Kevin scratched at his head.

Something to do with how theyre wound. See? You have that big limb.

He pointed at the bow in crossbow. Rags nodded. It was a source of aggravation to her. She pointed at the oversized weapon that had dented even the Wyvern Lord.

That is the biggest crossbow we have. Big problem; we cant move it.

Kevin eyed the straining Wyvern-bone bent back to take all the force it needed to launch a bolt through armor.

I bet not. Thats likethe difference between ballistas and regular crossbows. They have this other winding technique, see? Torsion.

Rags ears perked up. Some of her Goblin [Tinkerers] slid off their perches to wander over. Tell us more.

Kevin, the mastermind behind gears and bicycles, was thinking of the same thing Paige had. A lot of Earthers, really. Torsion; the style of winding thread together to create the same force as crossbows.

Ballistae had been made with them as early back as the Roman empire. Why not make a crossbow like that?

Well, because there was no point. It worked, but if you could enchant a crossbow limb or make one out of spring steel, you could get all the force you needed.

Unless you wanted to make a giant crossbow. Or youd found that even Wyvern bones snapped under the forces you wanted to subject them to. Rags eyes lit up. Kevin scratched at his chin.

Gears, too. You could make a winch really easy. They have them in Liscor. Heck, I bet you could even make titanium; youve got some right there.

Where?

Rags stared about. Kevin tapped her crossbow.

Its titanium. Thats what Dwarfsteel is. I asked Peltthe Dwarf I knowand he told me to keep it to myself. I bet no one but them knows how to make it. But the trick is you just have to heat it up super hot. Most forges could never do that, buthey.

He spread his arms. What did he know? He was here to help. Kevin eyed the six Wyverns, patiently being loaded up with supplies and Goblins. They were preparing to kick the hornets nest. All for Erin Solstice. You had to help people like that.

Besideshe eyed some Goblins already trying to put together crude skateboards of their own. Kevin grinned.

They were his kind of people.

Rags stood there, looking at this Human. She saw a huge Hob waddle out of the kitchen. Calescent. He pointed at Kevin, himself, and waggled his eyebrows.

Good job, eh, Chieftain?

How about that spice set?

-

They told her Pisces was a [Slave]. They told her Ksmvr was a prisoner of Illivere. That Ceria had not been found.

They told her these thingsperhaps to make her angry. To curry favor, like Rexel, the [Storm Bandit], or Leprel, the [Thief].

She was sick. The master of the Arena of Rust had seriously considered sending for a [Healer]but Yvlon had one arm, and the wrath of the Champion of Rust, whom shed insulted to his face.

He had elected to keep her in the first match of the week and month. The Arena of Rust was showing off the new blood; the prisoners and [Storm Bandits]. And Yvlon. Theyd be participating in a mass-gladiatorial bout.

No monsters. No unique hazards like a [Flame Floor] spell. That had made Rexel and Leprel sigh with relief. Right until they heard that the Champion of Rust and all the elite gladiators would be participating.

Whats the problem?

Yvlon was gritting her teeth, her abdomen twinging with pain. She was still able to move, but her guts hurt. They were cheap [Gladiators]; she wasnt rated for a [Healer].

Its bad, Silver-killer! The Champion of Rust is participating. Normally the veterans wouldnt do much to usmaybe go after competitors, a dangerous newcomer they dont like.

Yeah. So?

The Champion of Rustis holding a grudge. Or do you not remember what you said to him?

The blonde-haired woman didnt respond. She sat there, her jagged stump of silver metal glinting; her good arm flexing, hand clenching and unclenching.

Twenty minutes to the bout! Last check!

One of the arenas guards came marching down the rows of cells. Again, it wasnt the treatment Yvlon expected. He stopped in front of every cell.

You four. Weapons. Any to change?

What?

She glanced up. The Stitch-Man grunted impatiently, and muttered.

Foreigners. Youyou have a longsword as preference. Want something else? Battleaxe? We have a flamberge, rusted, but you might get it if you ask. Wed give you a shield if you want to strap it to

He indicated her stump of an arm. Yvlon shook her head, slightly.

They actually asked what weapons she wanted? Rexel requested a short sword instead of her daggers, and a shield instead of a second one.

Can I get a throwing set?

Well see. Ill write it down. Remember! You get rusted gear or good ones if the Arena Master decides otherwise or you have a patron! Or get lucky! Alright

They went down to the next cell. Yvlon shook her head.

Madness.

Just remember the plan, Silver-arm.

Would you call me by my name?

Leprel looked at Rexel. The Stitch-Woman nodded slowly.

Sure, Yvlon. Remember. We stick together. We just have to survive until enough fall or forfeit. We do it right and the Champion might not go after us. He might throw a spear or twowe can get stitched up. You cant.

Yvlon nodded, head lowered, clearly not really listening. The two Stitch-people exchanged concerned looks. Theyd gambled a lot on making Yvlon their ticket to surviving until they were full-time [Gladiators]. But between a full-scale bout and the Champions enmity

Ten minutes! Last chance!

The Arena of Rusts gladiatorial rooms lit up. Yvlon found her cell unlocked. She glanced at the far doors, but they were enchanted and reinforced. She flexed her handthen turned.

The [Gladiators] were mustering in their areas. The regulars didnt share rooms with the newcomers, who had essentially upgraded cells. Even here, though, Yvlon saw them collecting their gear. She eyed a rusted longsword with distaste.

Iron.

Someone doesnt like you. And someoneah, Nerrhavias end! Someone likes me!

Rexel beamed as she found a pack of four throwing daggers she could strap to an arm or thigh and a shortsword and shield. Yvlon stood there, longsword in hand and looked around.

Prisoners and the lowest-ranking [Gladiators] were talking. Some were shaking, refusing to talk to others; others weeping. However, many of the ones who had survived just lookedalert. They checked their weapons, murmured, made last-minute pacts.

She saw a Human woman lift a little pouch and sniff from it. Her pupils turned huge in her face.

Uh oh. Selphid dust. Keep out of her way. Someones intending to make an impression. You can gain a lot of favor and fame in the mass-bouts. This is the biggest match of the week.

Leprel muttered. She eyed the woman who was about to go on a similar berserk spree to Selphids Rampaginghence the name.

Yvlon hated it all. She thought of Pisces, then the coming melee.

Five minutes!

The prisoners lined up. A lot fought to be near the gates. A man with a single metal armguard, mismatched amid faded leather with holes in it, stitched up, shoved a Dullahan woman wearing wooden armor to the side. He peered through the grates.

Looks like pillars and broken walls! Good cover!

He shouted. More fought to be first. First to be out and getting the best positions, Yvlon thought.

A game of blood. She stood at the back of the throng. The other prisoners were watching her, and the gladiators. Yvlons head was lowered. She could hear the crowd roaring outside, and someone bellowing. A female [Announcer]?

In the Arena today we have the first mass-battle of the month! Here is our beloved Champion

A scream of noise. Yvlon gritted her teeth. The [Announcer] was reading out names of gladiators, to greater or lesser cheering from their fans.

And the blood for the Arenas sands! [Storm Bandits], [Thieves], runaway [Slaves] and volunteers seeking fame and fortune! We have a special contender the Champion of Rust himself has named, though.

Yvlon started. Rexel groaned. That was not a good sign. The voice shouted on as the grates began to rise, hefted upwards.

A [Warrior] who slew over two hundred [Guards] before being apprehended! Only one arm, but you might recognize hera Gold-rank Human! They call her the Silver-killer, One-Arm, the Slaughterer of Silver

You must be joking.

The gates opened and [Gladiators] and prisoners ducked under it before it even rose to head height, sprinting out into the arena. Some of the veterans and the champion were already out there, taking their places. It would not begin until the bell rang, and they had less than a minute to get out there.

Everyone was shoving at the front; the smart ones kept back, biding their time until the press cleared. Leprel was pushing at Rexel and Yvlon.

Stick to the plan! We find a corner and cover! Come on, Yvlon! Come on

The woman didnt move. Rexel slowed, her sprint turning into a walk as she looked back.

Yvlon? Come on, Silver. Dont protest nowtheyll throw you into it if you stay inside.

She and Leprel wavered as Yvlon stood there, head down. Her one good hand opened and closed around the longswords hilt.

I hate this. I did nothing wrong. This nation is corrupt. This is a farce.

Yvlon

Leprel hissed. This was not the time! She heard the crowd chanting down to the bells, and some of the [Guards] were peering through the doors at the back of the waiting rooms, seeing them standing there.

Did she run and take her chances alone? She waited, trying to push the [Armsmistress]. Yvlon was still talking.

This isnt a battle. This isnt a raid. This is just sport.

Youll die if you fight back. This is the only way.

Rexel faced Yvlon, licking her lips. The doors were opening and a [Guard] was pointing.

Get out there!

twenty, nineteen

Yvlon

The woman reached out. Or tried to. She stared at her broken arm. She had lost it in the Village of the Dead, a continent away. In a real battle with a monster. She met Rexels gaze.

I know that. But I dont have to like it. Fine. Fine.

She walked to the edge of the arenas portcullis. Yvlon stared out into the silent arena. People were crouched behind pillars, some armed with bows or crossbows; [Mages] were preparing to cast spells.

And there he was. The Champion of Rust, redolent at the back, surrounded by his allies, searching for targets. For her. He spotted her and it seemed they locked gazes even across the vast distance. Rexel groaned. Yet Yvlon was still muttering.

They want me to fight?

Five! Four! Three!

The roar grew louder. Rexel couldnt hear Yvlon, but she saw the womans lips moving and the faintest of sounds over the thundering of her heart, the rumble in the air. The grimy lips moving. The lookin those sapphire eyes.

They dont get it. Fight? Start fighting?

Yvlon Byres whispered. Her hand locked around her sword. The [Silversteel Armsmistress] stared ahead.

I never stopped.

This entire time since the Village of the Dead had been a break. The bell rang and the doors swung open as [Guards] came to shove out the [Gladiators]. But all too late.

Yvlon Byres sprinted out of the waiting room. Rexel and Leprel turned, mouths open as she charged into the rust-red dirt of the arena. The [Gladiators] looked up.

Begin!

The clash of metal on metal heralded the battle. The audience roared, pointing as the Human ran out onto the sands. There she was! They recognized her, and gasped. Was that? From the television?

The [Arena Master] was talking with a [Mage].

I dont know. Broadcasts, yes, but the Champion of Rust is eh, artful. Saved battles might not be as flashy.

Its easy. We just record it. Its storing the damned stuff thats so hard. Wistram has the jump on that, but for a small fee, well record any match you think is good. Then you get a cut of the profits if we sell them!

Not much of a profit! See

The roar of the crowd made the [Arena Master]s eyes perk up. Now that was louder than normal. Had someone just been decapitated? He looked towards the arena and saw her.

A Human woman, storming out of the waiting rooms. The Gold-rankhe looked at the [Mage].

Well, record that!

The [Mage] fumbled for a scrying mirror. He held it up just in time; the [Arena Master]s Skills were tingling.

[Sense for Spectacle]. He hurried to the front of the observation booth.

-

Remember the plan! SilverYvlon! The plan!

She had forgotten the plan. No, she was ignoring the plan. As [Gladiators] began to fight, and the first arrows and figures leapt across the ground to score first blood, the Gold-rank charged forwards.

Straight across the arena. Straight through the rookies fighting with veterans. Rexel and Leprel slowed in horror.

Ah! Theres the Silver-killer! Look! Shes trying to unseat us, eh? Lets see how good she is.

A [Veteran Gladiator] posed, turning, magnifying her voice. The Stitch-Woman grinned as she swung up two hatchets to cheers from her fans. She whirled, placing herself with three [Gladiators] who, by unspoken agreement, had decided to take her on.

[Power Throw]

The woman drew back one axe, ready for a mighty throw. A shame she was Human; a Stitch-Woman would easily take the loss of a limb. But the [Gladiators] did not like unknown quantities who didnt necessarily know to wound rather than kill. Besides, the Champion had made it known he would be quite happy with anyone who took her out.

Sothis really wasnt personal. They saw the woman raise her sword, fifteen feet out. The [Gladiators] wavered.

[Foresight: Injury]. The screaming alarm went off in all three brains. The [Axe Thrower] stopped her Skill. She yelped.

Nerrhavias tits

[Sword Art: Curve of the Moon].

The cheering audience saw a glittering crescent cut across the Arena of Rust. A shining flash of a bladethe roars of approbation faltered.

The [Axe Thrower] tried to pick herself up from the ground. Dead gods. Dead gods, was that her best Skill? That maniac had just used

A foot kicked her in the face. Not Yvlon; Rexel stopped to give the [Axe Thrower] two more kicks. Another [Gladiator] was scrambling away, bravado forgotten. The last was staring down at his arm.

My good arm!

He wailed, tearing out stitches so the bleeding would stop. Yvlon ran past all three, followed by Leprel and Rexel. She had just used one of her best Skills. The rusted longsword in her hand was bent from the force shed put on it.

Piece of trash

She kept running with it. It kept the other [Gladiators] away. Theyd seen her unleash that Skill and scattered rather than fight a maniac who had nearly bisected three of their buddies. Yvlon didnt care. She wasnt focusing on them.

The [Armsmistress] was charging at one figure who was watching her, perplexed. The Champion of Rust.

Are you coming at me? Me, woman?

He shouted, spreading his arms and trying to gesture to the crowd. But Yvlon didnt even give him time to mock her; the gleaming Stitch-man with his glorious Silk cloth-skin saw her charging. He lost his smile.

He had an axe and shield. A powerful, crushing combination where he had literally rammed his shield into foes so hard they broke bones, or sundered armor with his weapon. He could be artful; he had a net and spear he used when it wasnt a killing matter.

He drew the axe and shield now, gleaming with magic. Yvlon had her rusted longsword. People were pointing. This new adventurer was going after the Champion of Rust? Was she mad?

She was angry. [Berserkers Rage] was driving Yvlon on. But she could see him through the blood-haze. Watching her. The Champion of Rust flicked his shield up.

[Projection: Shield Ram].

The [Armsmistress] saw a giant copy of his shield, spectral, glowing, appear as he heaved it at her. She leapt sideways with an oath; the projection hit Rexel and sent her flying. Leprel scrambled after her buddy as Yvlon rolled, picking herself up. She saw the Champion of Rust dart in, axe raised.

He was quick. He had [Longstep] or somethinghe slashed. Yvlon knew better than to parry, so she went for an exchange as she lowered her stump of an arm.

You stab me? I stab you! The Champion cursed, and flicked left; he avoided being impaled by the rusted longsword; Yvlon was not struck by the falling axe blade. He stepped back as Yvlon slashed, slowed.

Felt at her cheek. Red blood was spattering the ground.

How?

A roar. First blood! The Champion of Rust lifted his axe, grinning. Yvlons blood was on it. She hadnt even seen the blow!

[Free Cut]. Did you think [Gladiators] didnt have our own Skills, Silver-Arm?

He taunted her, circling left with strutting steps. Yvlon felt her blood, warm, trickling down one cheek.

An unstoppable cut? A blood-letting blow, to disconcert and disorient. The kind of thing that looked great.

Pathetic.

His brows snapped together as she sneered at him, in an expression worthy of Pisces. The Champion of Rust shrugged.

I warned you not to take us lightly, Silver. Now

He came in fast and low, mid-sentence. [Cleaving Scythe]! The crowd roared as he went for Yvlons legs. She?

She brought her sword down as she charged. The Champion caught it on his shield, grunting, as his slash towards her legs was blocked. Bywhat? He didnt see, only felt it.

Yvlon had no weapon on her offhand, but dead gods, she was strong! He staggered, but saw what he had wanted.

Her blade bent. The useless iron couldnt stand up to the first blow! He grinned as Yvlon dropped it. His axe came up to punish her step back.

It never came. Yvlon balled a fist and threw a punch.

The Champions [Foresight] Skill went off. He pivoted, and the [Impact Punch] knocked him stumbling backwards. Cursing, the Stitch-man set himself.

You

She ran at him. The man incredulously swung his axe down. This idiot thought she could take him on bare-handed?

His axe met her arm and sparks flew. Yvlon stared at the notch in her arm. So did the Champion of Rust. The audience stared at the sight. Then Yvlon swung her stump of an arm up. The Champion saw the jagged stump point at him. What was?

The silver flesh rippled. Thenit morphed, elongating into a stabbing point. It shot towards his cheek.

Gyaaaaaah!

He threw himself left, with a shriek that was completely unplanned. The Stitch-man rolled as Yvlon checked her arm.

No blood.

She heard shouting. The crowd was on their feet. What was that? Had they seen her arm morph? The [Armsmistress] turned.

Youwhat are you?

The Champion of Rust realized the danger he was in too late. Yvlon shoulder-charged towards him. He blocked her, and the two rammed into each other desperately. Now, though, he realized what had stopped his strike.

Her arms could transform! He saw a short-blade coming out of her useless stump of an arm, a cutting edge made out of her flesh! She slashed at him and he leaned back, sweating.

Stoplets stop this. Lets

She slashed, shouting, and he backed up. The Stitch-Man ducked another telescoping stab of flesh, slashed at it. But he failed to sever it. Yvlon grimaced as if shed felt the blow, but then she was charging again.

The Champion of Rust had had enough. He was going to net her, back up, and take her down from afar. He just had to knock her back. So he lowered his shield with a roar, swinging his axe down.

[Dust Bomb]!

Blind her, and retreat. Theyd fill her with arrows or blast her with spells! She was a deadly warrior and could not be allowed to live. That was clear.

[Foresight: Mortal Wound].

The Champion of Rusts eyes went round. He broke off his Skill and slashed.

Leprel screamed, aborting the two daggers to his back. She saw the huge Stitch-man bellow at her. Thenwhirl and slam his shield down on Yvlons punching arm. She staggered. His axe rose for a sweep.

[Armform: Telescoping Flesh].

The man stumbled. The audience, on their feet, never saw the Champions blade descend. What they did see was him stand there, stunned, and then tear away from Yvlon screaming, dropping his blades, and clutching at his face. His chest. His

Then they saw her. In the later recordings, from other angles, it would become obvious what happened. The [Arena Master], on his feet, stared in horror as the Champion of Rust clutched at the bloody socket that had been his eye, his body, perforated byholes.

Yvlon Byres, the Slaughterer of Silver, One-Arm, the Silver-Killer stared at her arm. Orwhat had been her arm.

Leprel and Rexel looked at the jagged tips of silver metal. Thespines of it that had shot out of Yvlons arm like a porcupine, lancing the former Champion at close-range.

The blood ran onto her silver. Yvlons arm slowly morphed back to a hand. She stared at it.

What am I?

Rexel didnt know, but she also knew. She thrust up Yvlons arm, gingerly, as the arena shook. In her first match? Rexel shouted as she raised the new Champion of Rusts arm to the sky.

Yvlon the Silver Arm.

Authors Note: Todays chapter was written because Im tired. At the end of my writing cycle and more tired than usual, somehow. I am writing the authors note in advance, live on stream, to say it was under 20,000 words.

Whether or not I lied is irrelevant. Given the Patreon side stories poll which has three days left (one or two days as of publishing, I suppose), I thought it only fitting the chapter be a sort of catch-all advertisement for each option listed. Can it flip anything? I sort of doubt it, but who knows! It might not be the full course meal, but having a lotta snacks is good now and then, right?

Anyways, Ill be recharging my batteries for a week, so thank you for reading and supporting the story! Go listen to the Book 4 audiobook orread something else while Im gone. Thanks for reading!

Palts Secret Catalogue by Enuryn the /enuryn