《The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King》


 Chapter 1 - Call me Coin

    Of all the creatures who haunt the various dungeons and ruins of the world, few are more dangerous than the insidious Mimic. Ogres may be stronger. Manticores may be rife with terrible poisons. Yet such creatures pale in comparison to the Mimic''s cunning. To date, no other monster can exploit the greed of mankind half as well. And how fortunate we all are that such creatures never focus their abilities on anything other than filling their stomachs.


    - Callidus Pike, Almanac of Monsters Vol. 2.


    Darkness lurked all around, the air thick with the tasty iron scent of blood. The treasure chest was drawn in by the stench, clambering about on dark, elongated limbs across the stone floor. The room around him was overgrown with glowing toadstools and lichen, surrounding him at every step.


    Nasty plants, disgusting green things. A mimic would sooner die of starvation than to eat such filth. The lid of the treasure chest creaked and groaned, a throaty chuckling sound echoing from within. With each step the mountain of gold coins and relics inside the chest clinked and clattered.


    Mimics, like magpies, were drawn to shiny things. And while it was entirely possible for a mimic to simply create the illusion of gold using their own matter and shapeshifting abilities, they much preferred the sensation of real, physical goods rattling about in their jaws. Fortunately ruins, their usual territory, tended to have an abundance of the stuff to store away.


    And gold, in turn, always drew in tasty snacks to chew on.


    The Mimic''s tongue slithered from his mouth, nearly two meters long and dripping with amber-hued saliva. It had no visible eyes, and in the oppressive darkness of the ruin eyeballs wouldn''t have been of much use anyway, but the creature''s sense of smell never lost track of the blood, moving from room to room with silent steps in pursuit of it. For now he kept his eyes folded inward, and could reopen them at the first sign of trouble.


    Passing by a room that had once been a dining hall, the tables and chairs within half rotted to dust, he came to a halt in an ancient dust-caked library. Many of the bookshelves within had collapsed from the passage of time, the books eroded to being completely illegible.


    But there, among the rotten tomes, he spied his quarry: Human, definitely. His back had been feathered by tiny arrows. Goblins. Nasty things, tasted terrible, gave a mimic such terrible wind that they''d rather starve than eat another one. But good at killing, never let it be said that goblins weren''t good killers. Especially when folks got too cocky and carefree in their presence.


    The Mimic loomed over his quarry, sniffing his remains. He found no trace of poison on his remains. Not that goblin poisons could harm a mimic too much, but it would spoil the meat partially. But it had been so long since he last had a proper meal, so could he afford to be too fussy?


    Still, as he regarded the flowing purple robes of the fallen human, he couldn''t help but pay attention to the staff clutched in his rigor mortis frozen fingers. Rings forged from meteorite metal glittered on his digits, shining with a lustre more brilliant than any silver. At the same time, he spied a hat that had fallen a few paces from his head. A pointy thing, with star patterns sewn into the fabric.


    The word ''whizz-ard'' flashed briefly in the Mimic''s mind, having seen more than a few men like this in the past. Usually flanked by humans in armour. Whizz-ard''s were, from his experience, no fun. Too smart to be tricked by Mimics, both from having little interest in treasure and also having spells to see through their disguises. Getting to eat one for himself, that would be an interesting experience.


    If anything, this fellow would likely taste better than his usual fare. He had no issue tearing through plate armour and chainmail, and any such inorganic matter could be dissolved and spewed out by his internal acids, but it was always such a pain. The tang of steel just had a nasty aftertaste to it.


    His tongue unfurled, coiling around the whizz-ard''s waist and hoisting him up with ease. The lid of the treasure chest came down with a sicking crunch, shredding through flesh and bone, blood gushing over his elongated fangs. Another bite, another crunch, pulling the broken body deeper into the treasure chest. Now his fangs were poised above the whizz-ard''s waist, heedless of the potion bottles hitched to the man''s belt.


    The lid fell. Bones cracked. Glass shattered.


    The Mimic shrieked, spitting out his half-eaten meal, and landed harshly on his back. His gangly limbs kicked and thrashed about, while a luminous blue liquid smoked on the surface of his tongue. It was soaked into his flesh before he could do a thing about it, each drop of the liquid sending strange pulses through the entirety of his being.


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    Then, in an instant, the shrieking and thrashing stopped. The beast grew still and silent.


    Some hours later the Mimic stirred awake, groaning from a pain that rocked him from end to end. Slowly, he rolled onto his back and groaned in pain. A sound rose in his throat, the same noise he had heard many adventurers make when they realised all too late that the treasure chest they''d just opened was very hungry:


    "Bugger!"


    The sound startled him so much that he immediately fell on his backside, large hands pressing to his lid. He hesitated, slowly pulling his hands away. He regarded his own digits with newfound clarity.


    Driven by instinct and hunger in the past, the Mimic had thought little of his own existence. Like a dog seeing his own reflection in a mirror, he had no concept of what it was to be an individual. Now, however, he was all too aware of the new thoughts bubbling in his head, growing in intensity as his earlier stupor melted away.


    "I can speak," he said in a low murmur, the words ill-formed on his flailing tongue and shifting lid. All those strange words and murmurings he had heard in the past suddenly made sense to him.


    Slowly, he turned around on all-fours, and focused on the mangled whizz-ard. What, exactly, had been in that potion bottle? Something potent, no doubt, but he spied no traces of a label among the shattered glass to tell him what it was.


    Words formed in his head. Words gleamed from eavesdropping on plenty of conversations. They all had meaning now, meaning he could grasp and articulate. "I''m smart now. Smart as a human," the Mimic said, furrowing his lid in thought. But, he asked himself, what could he do with that? Perhaps it would make things easier to trick humans if he could talk to them?


    ''No no my good man, it''s alright. I may be a talking treasure chest, but I''m a NICE talking treasure chest. Not like all those other Mimics who want to gobble you up. Incidentally my teeth are killing me, do you think you could pop your head under my lid and see what the issue is?''


    He pondered that mental image for a time. No, that would never work. Humans were stupid and greedy, they certainly weren''t compassionate.


    Then again, he reasoned, greed defined him almost as much.


    Humming, he reached into his lid and produced a fistful of golden coins. He inspected them briefly. How beautiful the gold glittered in his grasp, how sweet it smelled. Even the texture felt wonderful! He wanted more. That was something that his rise in intellect hadn''t changed, at least.


    Perhaps, he thought, his new wits could give him a way to make more money? He knew these ruins intimately, and by now much of the gold in the place had been picked clean. Partially by himself, admittedly. If he wanted more gold, this wasn''t the place to do it.


    But what could he do? Leave and explore the world outside? A Mimic could blend in here, but a treasure chest in a grassy field was hardly inconspicuous.


    The Mimic grumbled in though, staring at the handsome face printed on one coin. Then, slowly, his gaze shifted to the mangled whizz-ard.


    "Do I have to look like a treasure chest?" he asked himself. He''d never considered it before, lacking the capacity to do so. In the past he''d taken an abundance of shapes and, like most of his kin, settled on looking like a treasure chest. It was, after all, a disguise that always reeled in greedy fools.


    But in theory a Mimic could, well, mimic anything if it wasn''t too large or small for their biomass. They had simply evolved to fixate on dungeon fixtures to blend into their local environment. Changing their shape came as easily as breathing to the mimics. But looking like a human, that was entirely possible... surely? Perhaps, in ancient times, mimics had even done so. But if they could not act like a human, the disguise would have been worthless.


    The Mimic lurched forward, spewing his gold onto the floor, and then set about focusing on his own body. Flesh warped, bones shifted, every facet of his being seeming to almost melt like heated candle wax. The shape of a treasure chest evaporated away, his gangly limbs shrinking and condensing.


    He used the whizz-ard''s body as a frame of reference for the proportions, albeit less... mangled. And, gradually, he adopted the physique of a short and slim man. The face he moulded was a blend of several he had seen over the years, and could be regarded as handsome in a conventional sense. His head became topped with feathery black hair, dark locks framing the sides of his face. That was the tricky part. All those little follicles with a silky texture. Fortunately he''d eaten enough hair to know what it looked and felt like.


    Humming, the Mimic inspected himself. Not bad, he reasoned. "Ten fingers, ten toes. That''s the right number, isn''t it? And I have one of those... things down there. Ah, right, humans usually cover themselves in fabric." And he, having little mind for fashion, let his biomass shift again to recreate the purple robes, dark trousers and polished boots of the whizz-ard. The texture of fabric was generally easier to recreate than that of metal, and easier to move around in.


    Anyone who looked upon the Mimic now would see a human. And what whizz-ard would think it necessary to cast a detection spell on him at a glance? Yes, he reasoned, this look would allow him to move about freely. And if he could move about freely, he could help himself to the gold of the world above.


    He lifted one of the coins, inspecting his warped reflection in it. But he was still missing one thing, he realised. Humans all referred to each other by a title. Usually they screamed it in grief whenever their companion was half-crushed in the jaws of a hungry treasure chest.


    So, to walk among humans, he needed to have a name like one. As he stared at the coin he couldn''t help but grin to himself, struck with inspiration for a name: The most beautiful name in the whole wide world.


    "Coin," he said aloud. "They can call me Coin."

 Chapter 2 - Elf and Sword

    Coin, over the next few days, spent his time exploring his home in a way he never had before. He had never realised how massive the ruins actually were, rooms upon rooms, linked with corridors that stretched on and on. Littered with bones that had been picked clean by the passage of time.


    He had hoped to simply leave after forming his new human disguise, but that was far easier said than done. And he was no closer now to understanding what the ruins were than he had been as a stray monster.


    But whenever he passed by a fallen statue, overgrown by moss and lichen, he did so with a newfound understanding. The ruin had once been something important. Why else would humans devote so much time to creating somewhere so vast if it hadn''t held some major value to them?


    And, in the back of his mind, Coin would ask himself ''why did they abandon it in the first place?'' It was only now that he could really grasp how ancient his home truly was. It had predated him by the span of entire generations.


    But, primarily, his focus was just on leaving. He explored about, ever in search of staircases that would lead him further upward. The downside to his new form was that he now drew the attention of the local monsters. In the past, such creatures tended to avoid each other and would only fight if there was a direct dispute over resources. Or if they crossed each other''s path and were unwilling to simply go around each other.


    But humans, elves, and any non-monster were seen as a fair target no matter where they were. Goblins, dire rats, cave serpents, and spiders as big as his torso. He knew how to avoid their traps, recalling how they had worked in the past, and any who attacked him directly were swiftly dispatched. A mimic was, after all, more than strong enough to fold a human in plate armour.


    Spiders and rats were far from pleasant meals. But still better than goblins, who seemed all the more disgusting to Coin''s newly sharpened mind.


    It was as he crested the top of another staircase that a sound hit his ears, something different to the squeaking of rats and the dripping of condensation: Shouting, punctuated by clangs of steel.


    Coin hastened to the source, weaving quickly between dilapidated rooms and drawing closer and closer to the escalating clamour. It did not take long for him to realise that the noise wasn''t just inarticulate shouting. It was someone shouting in a human language.


    "Back, damn you! Back!" A woman, Coin noted. In the past he had never stopped to dwell on the differences between men and women, but now he was able to grasp it with some detail and could readily tell the difference between a male voice and a female one. But, having dealt with more of the former over the years, that was the form he had defaulted to for his disguise.


    He rounded a corner, coming to a halt at the entryway of a large chamber that once been a prayer room. An elven woman, adorned in iron plate, stood before a cart laden with weaponry. Her golden hair was swept back into a bun, fully exposing her dagger-like ears. In her gauntlet-clad hands she held a claymore nearly the same height as her whole body. Blood dripped from the edge of the blade, a bisected fallen goblin at her feet.


    More goblins stood in a semicircle a few paces from her, hissing and braying, clutching their makeshift pikes and axes with sculpted stone heads. An individual goblin wasn''t much of a threat. But even a skilled swordsman would have trouble fighting six at once if they rushed in unison. More than once, in his prior life, Coin had seen adventurers being brought down simply because they had no answer to a green tide swarming over them.


    He stared at the elf, obscured in the darkness as he was. He had never eaten an elf before. But that one, with her porcelain and unblemished skin, likely tasted delicious.


    But if those nasty green creeps stuck her with something poisonous, they''d spoil the meat!


    He thought of very little as he advanced forward, heedless of the elf striking two axes away with a sweep of her claymore. And the goblins did not notice Coin in the shadows until he had stopped behind one of the creatures, gripped the top of his head, and twisted it 180 degrees around with a sickening snap.


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    Several of the goblins spun around, hissing and bleating and shock, regarding him with ruby eyes that glowed in the gloom. Two rushed at him, stabbing at him with spears. Coin dodged away, hissing as one sharpened tip sliced his elbow.


    Mimics were, admittedly, hard to kill. Much like slimes, they had only one central node that served their brain, around which all their biomass was contorted and controlled. So long as Coin kept his core somewhere safe, he would be fine. But, still, that didn''t mean it would be fun to catch a spear in the gut.


    The elf, to her credit, did not let this opportunity pass her by. She dashed forth, almost faster than the naked eye could follow, and severed one goblin at the waist. The gaze of her pale ruby eyes hardened, focusing on the goblin beside his fallen friend. He hissed and swing at her with an axe, only for the blade to be smacked away by a sweep of her gauntlet. Sparks erupted from the point of impact, lighting the darkness.


    Coin caught one incoming spear and held it firm. The goblin wielding it whined and tugged at the shaft, to no avail. Coin offered him a faint smile, before lashing a boot to the goblin''s neck and breaking it in a single blow.


    He whipped the spear in his hand around, the splintered wood smashing the second goblin in the face and breaking his nose, murky blood exploding from his nostrils. Coin would have felt a little bad about all this, but on the other hand goblins had cost him a good meal on more than one occasion. And they didn''t even have the decency to taste good for all the trouble they caused.


    His right hand swept toward the dazed creature, the flesh of his knuckles furrowing and sprouting a chunk of bone like one of his old fangs. It punctured his neck, gouging a chunk away. The goblin fell to the ground, gargling and clutching his ruined neck before quickly falling still.


    "Hey, watch out!"


    Coin turned just in time to see the last of the goblins rushing his way. He jerked his head away, the barbed head of the incoming spear slicing his flesh. Coin grit his teeth. Mimics were hard to kill, but they felt pain all the same.


    The goblin pressed the attack thrusting his spear at him again. The blade nicked at his side, his flesh-clothing ripping and sending another burst of pain racing through his body. Coin narrowed his eyes, bracing his knuckle-spike. But, at that moment, the elf''s claymore swung down and cleaved the goblin clean in half vertically. Murky blood gushed over the flagstones, the severed halves of the greenskin falling in opposite directions.


    Coin took a step back into the darkness, his right hand behind his back. His flesh warped and rippled again, the spike vanishing as if it had never been there. And it seemed, in the chaos and darkness, the elf had not glimpsed it.


    The elf came to a stop a short distance from him, panting for breath and resting the tip of her sword on the flagstones. "You alright, stranger?"


    Coin stared at her with widened eyes and was suddenly faced with an emotion no mimic had ever had to contend with: Gratitude. This stranger had rushed in to help him with no incentive and nothing to gain. And, in an instant, Coin found the idea of eating her somewhat... distasteful.


    He had never had a meal that helped him, or a meal that would raise a blade in his defence. With the capacity for intelligence came the capacity for empathy, and being hit with it so abruptly made Coin''s jaw tighten.


    "I''m fine," he stiffly replied, copying the type of casual tone he''d heard from past adventurers.


    "Well, thank the spirits. Though I suppose someone has to be confident if they''re wandering through here without a weapon." The elf flicked her claymore, launching an arc of blood onto the ground, before she hitched it to a clasp her back.


    Now that the blonde was close enough, Coin could see she was actually taller than him by a few inches, and that would likely be the case even without her plate armour on. Were elves simply tall, or was the whizz-ard he''d modelled his proportions after just short?


    "Didn''t expect to meet another person down here. Thaeka''s Temple doesn''t draw many adventurer''s these days."


    Coin nodded slowly. So that was what his home was called. "In that case, what are you doing here?"


    The stranger motioned to her cart, loaded with pikes, swords, and axes. "Weapon retrieval. Job postings at the Adventurers Guild were a little slim," she admitted with a tired chuckle. "And you?"


    Coin considered his answer for several moments. "Just taking a walk," he eventually replied. It was the truth, after all.


    She stared at him in silence for several long seconds, perhaps expecting more. When nothing else came, she coughed into her fist and made for her cart. "I''m Illyana."


    "Coin," he replied.


    Illyana chuckled, glancing back at him. "Interesting name."


    "Isn''t it just?" Coin replied, smiling. The most beautiful name he could have come up with. Well, that or ''Gold.'' But Coin hit his ear better.


    "Well..." Illyana gripped the handles of her cart and lifted it with seemingly little issue. "I''m about done here anyway. Need a guide back to the surface?"


    Coin considered this, stroking his chin. He supposed he would feel bad if he ate this woman, and besides it would likely be a lot of trouble. She was clearly stronger than some of the rabble he''d munched on in the past, after all. And following her probably would get him to the surface quicker than groping about blindly as he had been previously.


    "By all means, lead on."

 Chapter 3 - The World Above

    As it happened, they were already fairly close to the temple''s exit, and Illyana knew the way in fine detail. Even reaching a staircase did little to hinder the elf, who would simply hoist her cart and carry it up the steps. She would get a little sweaty and red faced, admittedly, but she never complained or cursed from the exertion.


    "So," Coin said, examining their moss-coated surroundings as they made their way along. "You said this place was called Thaeka''s Temple?"


    Illyana gave him a sideways look. "You''re exploring here and you don''t even know the name of the place?"


    "I''m... foreign," he bluntly replied.


    "Ha. Clearly." Illyana rolled her neck, bones loudly cracking. "It''s named after the goddess Thaeka. Goddess of the earth in some of the older religions. But, well, her worship faded with time as it did for most deities in the Old Faith, and underground temples like these fell into disrepair."


    Coin nodded in understanding. "Goddess of the earth... they built underground to be close to her?"


    "Something like that."


    They rounded a corner, venturing into a vaulted corridor that stretched on for a considerable distance. But there, at the very end, sat a glowing golden light that nearly blinded Coin as he stared at it. He swallowed hard, rooted to the spot.


    "Ah, thank goodness," Illyana said, exhaling with relief. "Ruins like this are just so damp and breezy. The chill is worse than the monsters trying to kill you."


    "Yes. Definitely," Coin murmured, unable to look away from the light. Having spent his entire life in the damp darkness, the warmth and the light was entirely alien to him. Even the glowing mushrooms of the temple paled in comparison to that distant radiance. He fished a coin from his ''pocket'', which was actually just a furrow of flesh in his waist, and held it up to the light. The golden glow was more beautiful than he ever could have imagined.


    He cleared his throat, trying to focus back on the path ahead of them. "So, you said you were with the Adventurer''s Guild?"


    "You''re... not?" Coin shook his head. "Ah, well, yes. I''m a Rank 3 adventurer, handling whatever jobs I can get qualified for. But if you''re not with the Guild, what were you doing down here?"


    Coin shrugged. "I was passing by, figured I''d take a look inside. Not that I got much out of it." Coin made a mental note of the terms Illyana had used. The knowledge, perhaps, would come in handy going forward.


    "Yes, well, you should be careful. You certainly seem strong, for a human, but those ruins are full of dangerous creatures."


    "You don''t know the half of it."


    They emerged from the darkness, at which point the light became blinding. Coin winced, raising an arm to shield himself from the glow. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the light. His world of mould and stone was gradually replaced with rolling hills of green grass, knee high blades brushing his legs as he trod forward. It took him a moment to realise, in his awe, he had forgotten to breathe.


    And that first breath of fresh air, devoid of the dusty stagnancy he was used to, was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. And everything around him was vast in a way Coin never could have imagined in the past. He stared at the vastness of the sky and took in another breath. It seemed to stretch on forever.


    "Coin?" Illyana asked, snapping him to attention. "You alright? You seem a little dazed."


    He cleared his throat and swiftly turned to the elf. "Just a touch lightheaded." He supposed that was one way to describe it.


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    "Well, make sure you catch your breath before you start moving again. The roads are a little less dangerous than the ruins, but not exactly what I would call safe." She raised the wooden bars of her cart. "As for me, I suppose I should start making my way back to Wheat Valley to hand these in."


    Coin considered his options. He could wander aimlessly, but that seemed a very poor idea. Even when he had been a mindless beast he had been smart enough to know, instinctively, that there were very big and nasty monsters prowling about. Genetic memory from ancestors who, through sheer misfortune, had ended up plundered into the treasure hordes of angry dragons. Or squashed by colossal ogres who did not appreciate the humour of treasure chests trying to bite them.


    Or, alternatively, he could follow Illyana. That way, at least, he''d be able to find civilization. From there, in theory, he''d be able to find his footing. Perhaps even learn more about what had happened to him.


    "What a coincidence!" He forced a smile, "I was just heading that way too. Maybe we should go together? You know, just in case."


    The elf hummed at the proposition, tilting her head. She knew he could handle himself in a fight, even if the darkness had blinded her to his more unnatural abilities. "Well," she eventually said, "I don''t see why not."


    She took off, heading to the far end of the field. The further across the grass they went, the more Coin could see of a distant dirt road. He spared a glance over his shoulder to the place that had been his home for the entirety of his life. The looming mouth of a massive cave, hissing out a dark fog into the sunlight, stared back at him.


    What had driven his people to live underground like that? Why did mimics crave the darkness of the underground? Standing under the sun like this, Coin just couldn''t fathom it.


    But, in the back of his mind, a worry was starting to gnaw at him. What if his transformation was temporary? The strange potion that gave him intelligence fading away over time? The thought made him grimace with discomfort. He had two things to do, in that case. First he needed to learn more about whizz-ard''s and the weird potions they brewed, and to see if there were any records of mimics like himself anywhere in the world. And, secondly, he wanted to get his hands on more gold.


    Well, that part of him hadn''t changed much at least.


    He followed behind Illyana, who breathed a sigh of relief as the wheels of her wagon started to bump along the road. Her cart of weapons clinked and clattered. In the light, most of them sported some degree of rust.


    "So," Coin said, settling his hands on his hips. "You were sent to... retrieve these?"


    Illyana nodded. "Ruins like the temple are rife with the gear of fallen adventurers. The Adventurer''s Guild runs a service for reselling equipment like this. Well, obviously we treat it with alchemical oils to remove the rust and reinforce them. And, as such, we can afford to sell this gear for a cheaper price than what the smiths do even if the quality is a little bit lesser."


    "Huh." Well some part of his soul cringed at the prospect of spending money at all, so the cheaper option was the lesser of two evils in Coin''s eyes.


    "Works out well for Rank 1 and 2 adventurers. The kind who don''t have much money to start with, or are regularly breaking their gear. And I get paid decently, depending on how much I bring in."


    "Sounds like it''s nearly as dangerous as venturing into a ruin looking for treasure."


    The blonde nodded. "It''s not fun. Or glamorous. Or dignifying. But it puts bread on the table."


    "Oh," Coin simply replied. The Adventurer''s Guild paid people with bread? Well, he had seen plenty of adventurers munching on bread by their campfires.


    Illyana looked upward, watching the sun as it loomed above them. "Past midday. Don''t think we''ll be reaching Wheat Valley until tomorrow. Fortunately I have my camping supplies in the bottom of all this," she said, nodding to her wagon.


    Coin reached down, gripping at his stomach. It was a motion he had seen humans and goblins do more than once, usually followed by a rather ghastly gurgling sound from somewhere inside their body. He supposed he could manipulate his inner workings to copy that, but ultimately he chose not to. It seemed disgusting. Though he was hungry all the same.


    Particularly since he had discarded the idea of eating Illyana.


    What sort of food did people eat in the world above? Something better than rats, he had to hope. While lurking in the shadows, he had seen humans blackening thick chunks of anomalous meat over their campfires. Which seemed ludicrous to Coin, but if that was how it was done here he supposed he''d have to feign acceptance.


    "Might as well get some food while we''re walking," said Coin.


    "I have a few provisions but I''d be lying if I said I don''t prefer fresh to preserved. And around this stretch..." she scanned the horizon line. "Shouldn''t be too hard to find some rabbits and birds."


    Coin grinned and lightly clapped his hands together. "Wonderful," he replied, deciding not to ask what in damnation a ''rabbit'' or ''bird'' was.


    This was the world above, and he had so much to learn. And he was utterly enthralled by the seemingly endless land now unfurling before him.

 Chapter 4 - Meat and Gold

    A ''bird'', as it turned out, was a small winged creature about the size of a cave bat. But in place of leathery wings it was covered in strange white growths that Illyana called ''feathers'', which she had vigorously plucked from the creatures after shooting two down from the air with well-aimed crossbow bolts. And instead of a snout, the birds had sharp beaks protruding from their faces.


    Those, fortunately, were not too alien to Coin. The sole cockatrice down in the temple, which had died a few years ago, had one roughly the same shape. But his had been far larger.


    What was far more shocking to Coin, who had lived the entirety of his life in near-total darkness, was that the blazing ball of light overhead had vanished some hours into their journey, replaced by a pair of glowing ruby moons that radiated a much eerier light. Coin would have been worried about this baffling turn of events, certain that the blazing light would never return. But Illyana seemed not to notice, so he simply assumed that was the norm for surface dwellers.


    As bonkers as that seemed.


    "There we are," Illyana said, lifting a metal skewer of grilled bird meat from the fire. She had shed much of her armour and was now dressed in a dark shirt and trousers. She was still a rather tall and robust woman, and the thin scars on her arms stood out on her sculpted musculature.


    Coin took the skewer as it was offered to him and sniffed it a few times. It smelled nicer than raw meat, admittedly, but he still wasn''t sold on the whole thing. Eventually he worked up the nerve to have a bite, and groaned in delight at the hot juices that exploded onto his tongue. The heat was immense, admittedly, but he scarcely noted the sting from how good the taste was!


    He felt bad for other mimics, who never even got the chance to grill their quarry like this.


    He''d eaten his serving in a blur, earning a gust of laughter from Illyana who was barely starting hers. She leaned back against the trunk of a nearby tree, watching him carefully. "Take it you haven''t eaten in a while?"


    "That and I''m always hungry," he replied, licking some hot grease from his lips. You would be hard pressed to find a mimic that would ever turn down a meal. Or, for that matter, a mimic that would let you offer them a meal without biting your head off in the process.


    But as he savoured the last traces of the cooked meat, Coin became aware of something strange. As delicious as the bird was, he couldn''t reconstitute it into his biomass in the same way he could with raw flesh. Whenever he ate a living creature, all their muscles, bones, and sinews were things he could reforge and recreate as needed.


    Usually for growth or regeneration, though now he was starting to become increasingly aware of what his shape changing abilities could do. Processed meat, however, seemed to lack that same potential. He got sustenance from it, at least, but he was certain it would just dissolve into waste to be expelled later.


    It didn''t matter too much, so long as he didn''t need to regenerate anything particularly grievous. But it was disappointing.


    The two lingered by the fire as it steadily dwindled. Illyana was seated on a bedroll, and gave Coin a loan of a spare she carted around ''just in case.'' Coin stared into the dancing embers, a question bubbling up in his mind. "Say, Illyana, have you ever heard of a magical potion that can... make a person smarter?"


    The blonde arched a brow at him. "Why? Were you looking for something like that in the temple?"


    Coin pursed his lips, trying to think of a convincing lie. "I heard... a story about a potion that could do that. Guess I was curious to see if it was a real thing or not."


    Illyanna hummed, drumming her fingers on the dirt. "I''ve never been all that familiar with magic. Much to my parents'' shame," she snorted. "But I hear wizards and witches make all kinds of queer potions that can do just about anything. There''s a witch living in Wheat Valley called Scylla, she might be able to tell you more about that kinda thing. Only... well, she''s a pain to deal with. But you''re a man so she might be sweet on you," she said.


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    "Sweet... on me?" Coin murmured under his breath. What was that supposed to mean? It didn''t sound like a bad thing, the tone Illyana used, but it also sounded like this ''witch'' would try to eat him.


    Also, it was nice to know how ''whizz-ard'' was meant to be pronounced.


    "Guess I''ll keep it in mind." Another thing he''d need to take care of whenever they got to the town.


    "Still," Illyna glanced up to the twin moons. "A potion that can make you smarter. Yeah. That sounds like the sort of thing a wizard would brew. They always have to be the smartest in a room."


    "And would a potion like that... have a permanent effect?" Coin asked.


    "Dunno," Illyana said. "Magic. Alchemy. All that crap... tends to have a mind of its own at times." And that was essentially it for their conversation that night.


    The two fell asleep on opposite sides of the burnt out campfire soon after. And Coin, for the first time, experienced a dream more complex than what a wild animal would go through. In his dream he found himself surrounded by mountains of gold and meat, the sight and scent of which made his heart do somersaults in excitement.


    Meat and gold, the two things he wanted most in life. And with the brain of a human, he''d have the means to have all the meat and gold his heart desired. In time, at least.


    But mimics could be light sleepers, and evolution had not changed that for Coin. Ears that could hear a pin drop were roused by a scream in the distance, causing Coin to spring upright. He moved to stand, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. Illyana was still asleep. Perhaps those big pointy ears were just for show? Or she just had a natural ability to sleep like a log.


    Coin left her to it, quietly creeping from their campsite as another scream rose in the distance. Eventually he reached the crest of the nearby hill, giving him a vantage to the road below. An orange glow cut through the blackness, a lantern hitched to the side of a wooden wagon. The creature pulling the wagon, a red-shelled beetle the size of an ox, stood idle and seemed unconcerned by the group of armed men surrounding it.


    The same could not be said for the old man trembling at the side of the wagon with his hands raised, unwilling to move in the presence of a pike aimed at his throat. Another man, a short distance from the back of the wagon, was lying dead on the road. His left arm had been lopped off at the elbow, the severed length a few meters from his corpse, while the killing blow had cleaved his clavicle.


    Coin stood silently on the hill to watch, stroking his chin in thought. One of the armed men was rummaging through the rear of the wagon, pulling crates open and tossing their contents onto the road. It was only when the stranger tore open a box and exposed its glittering golden contents to the moonlight that Coin''s interest was truly piqued.


    An entire box laden with gold coins. The mimic was damn near drooling at the sight.


    He spied at least seven men holding the old man to ransom. Seven adorned in boiled leather or chainmail. Nothing Coin couldn''t handle. More than once his disguise had been rumbled by parties much better equipped than ragged bandits carrying pikes and scimitars.


    He spared a glance to Illyana, still out cold in her bedroll, before quickly making his way downhill. The muscles in his limbs tensed and broadened, drawing upon the strength of his past meals. That kind of trick was common among mimics, who passively grew stronger the more they ate. Now, however, Coin had more granular control of his own body.


    He could overpower this lot without much issue. And any damage they inflicted, he told himself, they had more than enough meat to help mend him.


    One of the bandits heard his approach, turning toward the noise of rustling grass. He raised his oil lantern, the glow illuminating Coin. The mimic did not slow his approach.


    "Who in blazes are you?!" the man barked, his pockmarked face contorting into a sneer.


    "Doesn''t matter," another of the men said, emerging from the shadow. He raised his crossbow and took aim, his gaze harsh behind the visor of his metal helmet.


    The old man, a stooping dark-skinned figure in an expensive-looking duster and waistcoat, peered at Coin from the gloom. His rheumy eyes widened in surprise, the twitches of his facial muscles rustling the hairs of his fluffy white moustache. He saw an opportunity to move while his attackers were distracted, and turned to run as fast as his legs would carry him.


    But the large man before him was far faster than his broad frame would imply, clocking him with a punch that sent him sprawling into the dirt. Out cold. "Damn old fool," he spat, glowering down with his piggy eyes. "We''ll tie him up when we''re done with this one."


    The man with the lantern approached, clutching his scimitar in his other hand. "Empty out your pockets, an'' we might just let you go." He flashed a smirk that all but said ''yeah, right.''


    "Empty my pockets?" Coin bluntly replied.


    "Yeah. Cough up your coin if you value your life more."


    Coin balked. Hand over money?! Certainly not! "You''ll get nothing out of me!"


    "Have it your way, shrimp!" The bandit flicked his scimitar upward, the air whistling from the speed of his blade. Coin reeled back, raising an arm to defend himself. Metal bit into flesh sturdier than leather, slicing open Coin''s sleeve and the forearm beneath.


    The mimic hissed, his jaws growing larger and his teeth sharpening in his anger. He stepped forth, ducking under another slash and punching the bandit in the chest. The leather of his armour absorbed much of the impact, but several of his ribs still cracked from the force of Coin''s fist. He yowled, launched off his feet by the blow, and was sent tumbling a few paces from the mimic.


    The other bandits fell silent, clutching their weapons with newfound attention. "You can have money if you take it by force. That''s the rule on the surface, is it?" Coin nodded, a pale golden gleam forming in his pupils. "Good to know."

 Chapter 5 - Eat the Bandits

    The thwang of a bowstring echoed through the night, a crossbow bolt whistling toward Coin. The mimic lurched forward, the sharpened tip brushing his flesh as he charged toward the nearest bandit. The stocky man cursed, jabbing his spear forward as Coin closed the gap.


    The head of the spear sliced the side of Coin''s cheek, blood bubbling from the wound before the flesh knit itself together. Coin countered with a swift jab of his hand, shattering the wooden shaft.


    Of all the weapons that had ever been turned on him in his old life, he had a particular dislike of spears. From goblins trying to stick him like a pig, to humans jabbing at him from the safety of looming tower shields... he had nothing but bad thoughts about them.


    His right hand swung down like the blade of a guillotine, shattering the bandit''s clavicle and unleashing a spray of blood from the torn flesh. The man cried out, dying just as the tip of his broken spear clattered to the dirt.


    Another crossbow bolt shot through the air and punched into Coin''s shoulder. The mimic snarled and turned toward the marskman, who was moving to reload with a trembling hand. The bones of Coin''s jaw twisted and elongated, and from the nose down he was soon sporting the toothy and long-tongued maw of a normal mimic.


    "D-demon!" one of the bandits cried, his swords trembling in his grasp. "A demon from the Bleak! Sentinel preserve us!"


    Coin, in truth, did not know what either of those terms meant. But, on the other hand, he didn''t much care either.


    He turned and raced towards the marksman, who was cursing and swearing to any deity willing to lend him an ear. But, in his haste, Coin didn''t notice the first bandit he''d downed charging at him. He was sweating profusely, grimacing from the colossal pain in his chest. Yet, even so, he pressed on and slashed wildly at Coin''s chest.


    The tip of his scimitar whistled through the air, cutting into material tougher than leather. Coin''s robe and the flesh beneath was sliced open, only for the wound to reforge itself with stored biomass. Coin hissed, murky blood oozing from his closing wound. He rounded on the bandit, the bones of his right fist growing larger and denser as he funnelled his mass into it. His fist crashed into the bandit''s face, caving his skull in with a blow harsher than the swing of a sledgehammer.


    The distraction gave the marksman enough of an opening to aim and shoot. But in his panic, his aim was rather poor. The tip of the bolt cut through the outside of Coin''s thigh, ripping away a chunk in the process. The mimic bristled, his well-organised human features growing twisted and exaggerated as his anger tore through him.


    "Stop. Doing. That!"


    His body warped, inhuman muscles tensing to shunt out the bolt embedded in his flesh. The wound closed swiftly after, but the ache remained.


    Two of the other bandits rushed at him, brandishing scimitars in both hands. Blades whistled through the air, the frantic storm of steel forcing Coin onto the backfoot. He narrowly avoided several of the slashes, but the two pronged assault was quick and coordinated.


    The flesh of Coin''s arms shifted, the skin and muscles growing denser. He raised them in unison, hissing as the steel bit into his forearms. A normal man would have had his limbs severed, but Coin''s arms were tougher than tree trunks. He shoved both men with an immense surge of strength, very nearly bowling them over.


    He lunged at the nearest man and bit into his neck, tearing through chainmail and the flesh beneath in a single bite. He swallowed a massive chunk in one fell swoop, before turning on the next bandit as he was struggling to his feet. He ducked under a pair of slashes, a few strands of ''hair'' being sliced off in the process. Which, to Coin, was as painful as having a pinstripe of skin being plucked off. His fist collided with the bandit''s helmet, the steel crumpling inward and his head being damn near torn off his shoulders.


    Four down, Coin noted.


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    The marksman was suddenly flanked by another of his cohorts, both men taking aim with crossbows. A third bandit, the last of the group, set his lantern on the ground and drew a mace from his belt. "Figure the Wizard''s Guild will pay a nice sum for his corpse," he uttered, glaring at Coin behind his helmet.


    Coin launched himself to one side as the first crossbow was fired, but the second marksman had accounted for that and snapped his aim to where Coin was jumping. The second bolt thudded into the mimic''s shin, pulling a pained snarl from his lips. He snatched the fallen spearhead from the ground in a fluid motion and launched it into the darkness. The blade punched through the chest of one attacker, his crossbow clattering to the ground as the spear exploded from his back.


    The largest of the bandits charged at Coin as he forced himself upright, with the mimic stumbling from the bolt skewering his shin. A crushing blow caught Coin in the ribs, flinging him onto his back. He winced, his dented flesh swiftly moving to mould itself back into a proper shape.


    He rolled to the side, avoiding a blow aimed at his head that punched a crater into the road. Coin''s foot shot out, kicking the man''s feet out from under him, snapping the bolt from his shin in the process. He pounced on the bandit, who only barely managed to let out a panicked cry as Coin killed him with a hard punch that sank his helmeted skull into the ground.


    The last of the bandits stumbled back, cursing as he loaded a bolt into his crossbow. But Coin was already on him by the time he pulled the drawstring back, and the man was dead before he hit the ground.


    Coin surveyed his handiwork, panting for breath. Killing a group of people was nothing new to the mimic, but it felt no easier now than it had back in the day. If anything it was harder in some respects. The pain of his slowly mending wounds was far more pronounced to his enhanced mind than it had been to his old, beastly brain.


    He winced and focused, willing his proportions back to normal. "Firstly," he uttered under his breath. "I''m owed a snack. Munching on a few of those will help my wounds heal better." And it would make him stronger, in the long run. He just needed to put their bodies aside to make sure Illyana didn''t see anything.


    It''d be too awkward to explain, he reasoned. From his understanding, humans and humanoids didn''t eat each other. Well, that wasn''t too new to him. Goblins didn''t eat other goblins, and even mimics didn''t eat their own kind.


    Coin set about his business, munching on some human meat to help heal his wounds. The remains, thereafter, he dumped in the brush a considerable distance to the side of the road. Though, as the tang of blood lingered on his tongue, he couldn''t help but think that human meat didn''t taste as good now as it had in the past. He also took the time to check the men for any gold and found only a miserable pittance of ducats for his trouble. But some gold was better than no gold at all, he reasoned.


    It was as he returned to the wagon, the last of the bodies tossed away, that he spied the old man stirring. He groaned, rising to his feet and using the wheels of his carriage to support his modest weight. He blinked a few times, scanning his surroundings.


    "Good grief!" he exclaimed in a high-pitched voice. "All gone! Did I get them? Didn''t think I still had it in me," he said, rubbing the injury on the back of his head.


    "No, that was me," Coin said, as he casually approached. He''d been hoping to just grab the gold and leave before the old timer got up. And now, as odd as it sounded in Coin''s head, he would have felt... bad if the old man saw him take it. And he would have felt similarly bad if he killed a person who couldn''t defend himself.


    What was that all about? He''d never had to worry about something like that before he evolved.


    The old man''s eyes brightened, a grin breaking out across his face. Coin swallowed hard as he saw the glimmer of two golden teeth in the old man''s smile. People could get golden teeth?! "Aha, that''s right! You appeared to save me, didn''t you? My own trusty and stalwart Varangian, sent from the Aether itself!"


    "... Sure," Coin awkwardly replied.


    The old man breezed past him with impressive quickness, making for the lockbox that had fallen to the ground during the prior commotion. He quickly scooped a fistful of coins into his wrinkled hands, and offered them to Coin. The mimic blinked in confusion, taking them into his palms. People would... give money to other people to thank them?


    "The least I can do to thank you! No, actually, you deserve a little something extra!" He hurried beyond the bewildered mimic, rummaging through some of the containers on the back of his wagon. He returned soon after, returning with a rectangular chunk of lemon-scented bread, glistening with a glaze of sugar. The smell made Coin lick his lips on a reflex.


    As it happened, Coin had seen such things in the past. The goblins had been prone to dragging their plunder underground, and he still had vague memories of the baked goods the goblins would gorge themselves on.


    "Gold and sugar, the lifeblood of the upper crust!" the old man said, grinning. "Wish I''d been awake to see you give those rodents what for! Bet they begged for mercy, cowards always do. But I am truly grateful, my young chum!"


    Coin snuffed the cake a few times before taking a bite. He froze, a shiver racing through the entirety of his body. In that moment he decided he needed more sugar in his life. Much, much more.


    The old man sighed, glancing to the one corpse Coin hadn''t touched. "Shame about my bodyguard. I get the feeling the old boy lied about his qualifications. Ah, still, always a shame to watch a fellow get cut down."


    "You won''t be seeing those other guys again, at least," Coin replied, before gnawing on another corner of the lemon cake.


    "Quite right, quite right. Never thought the road to Wheat Valley would draw in fellows like that... Ah, where are my manners? I''m Elijah DiVenture. And I am oh so glad to meet you."


    Humans having two names was a new phenomenon to Coin. His jaw tightened. He''d need to come up with a second name whenever his mind wasn''t so... frazzled. "Call me Coin."


    "Coin, eh?" Elijah grinned, holding out a gnarled hand to the mimic. Coin hesitated, before offering his free hand over. It was the complete wrong hand for a handshake, but this didn''t seem to bother Elijah who gripped it and shook it all the same.


    "A fine name, for a fine lad," the old man said, a twinkle in his eye.

 Chapter 6 - Roads and Ogres

    "What in blazes is going on here?!" Illyana''s voice roused the two men to attention. Coin spun around, watching the elf make her approach. She was still dressed in her night clothes, but she carried her claymore just as easily. Her gaze roamed across both men, then to the various bloodstains drying in the dirt.


    "I heard a commotion when I woke up, and I happened to find this man being attacked by a group of bandits," Coin explained.


    "And he rushed to my defence too. A lad with a heart of gold," said Elijah. Coin tensed. People could get hearts made out of gold?


    Coin cleared his throat, focusing back on the elf. "You were still asleep, and I didn''t get a chance to wake you. If I waited too long, they probably would have killed the old man. But uh... why are you up?"


    Illyana''s cheeks darkened a tad, almost imperceptible from the darkness surrounding her. "What, a woman can''t get up to relieve herself in the middle of the night? I''m glad you''re safe all the same, but that was reckless."


    Elijah chuckled, stroking one side of his vibrant moustache. "No harm, no foul. Except for those bastards your young friend sent packing! Elijah DiVenture, representative of the Mercantile Guild, charmed to meet a lady of the fairer race here."


    The elf paused, regarding the old man curiously. "DiVenture...?" she murmured under her breath, as if the name was familiar yet she couldn''t quite recall how. The blonde shook her head, deciding it must not have mattered too much. "Illyana, of Clan Rosso. And a member of the Adventurer''s Guild."


    "Oh?" Eijah arched a brow. "And are you both in the Guild?"


    Coin shook his head. "I''m... solo," he said.


    "Truly? A man who can fight off a group of brigands solo, and he''s not in the Guild? I may not have seen how you did it, but it''s no mean feat. You''re an interesting fellow, you know."


    "Oh, no, I''m nothing special," Coin hastily replied. "Just a... normal man." That was something a normal human would say, yes?


    Seeming undaunted, Elijah turned to regard Illyana. "I take it you''re both heading toward Wheat Valley?" The elf nodded. "Well! In that case, perhaps we three should travel together? The road is a touch more dangerous than I recall. Archchancellor Velasco''s doing no doubt, pushing criminals further and further from the capital. Still, I''ll gladly give you a bit of money for your trouble."


    "I say we do it," Coin instantly replied.


    His companion, on the other hand, took a more measured approach. She examined his wagon, then the giant beetle it was hitched to. "So long as I don''t have to fill out any paperwork with the Mercantile Guild, fine. I could do with more money."


    Elijah produced a coin from his waistcoat and flicked it up and down. Coin''s eyes followed it, like a cat drawn to a sunbeam. "A common ailment that afflicts all our races, eh?"


    Come the morning, after a breakfast of grilled meat offered by Elijah, the trio set off on the roads again. He even hitched Illyana''s wagon to the back of his, with the elf eventually relenting in her protests. The bug pulling them along (which Illyana referred to as a ''mushien'' and Elijah called ''Dancer'') seemed not to notice the extra weight.


    They travelled straight for some time, halting only briefly so they could burn the remains of Elijah''s bodyguard in a clearing. Supposedly, in the faith most surface dwellers followed these days, burning a body allowed the rising smoke and ash to carry their spirit into the embrace of their divine goddess above. At least, that was the gist Coin got from the prayers Elijah said.


    Frankly he couldn''t make heads or tails of it. But the mimic had no concept of religion, and the thought of a divine being watching from above made him uneasy.


    Elijah had stopped briefly to open a large leather tome from the inside of his jacket, and set about scribbling a few details down. Coin watched him intently. "What are you doing?"


    "Hm?" Elijah glanced up. "Oh. Taking a note about what happened to the poor fellow. It''s important to keep records on such things," he said, wagging his pencil.


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    "No, I mean... what is... this?" he asked, mimicking the motion of the old man''s writing.


    "Oh? Illiterate, are we? I suppose it can''t be helped. Few folks out in the countryside learn how to read or write, unless they''re fortunate enough to have the right teachers."


    Coin nodded stiffly. He couldn''t recall ever seeing an adventurer doing that in the ruins. Though now he had a better understanding about what all those rotted old books had been for. "Yeah, can''t say I''m familiar," he eventually admitted.


    "Well..." Elijah smiled, twirling his moustache with his other hand. "How about I teach you some literacy while we travel together? Another way for me to thank you for your aid."


    He got started almost as soon as Dancer started trotting again, going into great deal into what he called the ''alphabet.'' Which, to Coin, was a string of alien scribbles where they could each be slotted together to form ''words'', which then became ''sentences'' when put together. It was a lot for Coin to wrap his head around. But if it was a major part of being a human, he supposed he''d just need to learn it.


    The journey was largely uneventful after that point, the roads being safer in the daylight than they had been at night. But, at one point, Elijah tugged on Dancer''s reins to slow the bug. He pressed a finger to his lips and motioned for his two passengers to glance downhill.


    From where they were on the road, it was easy to see a makeshift camp in a rocky clearing. Totems made from repurposed bone were erected around the place, and a large cookfire was busy blackening a spit of anomalous meat. Three figures stood around it, hulking orange-scaled humanoids adorned in repurposed animal pelts.


    The tallest of the group was nearly twice as tall as Illyana, even without the studded horns protruding from the top of his head.


    "Ogres," Illyana muttered, distastefully.


    "Haven''t seen us yet, fortunately. And they''re not bright enough to set traps. Still, it''s prudent to keep an eye out for beasts like them," said Elijah. "Where there''s some, there''s bound to be others."


    "Between bandits and demihumans, the roads are in dire need of more security. Arcadia''s going downhill fast these days. The Archchancellor needs to focus on securing something other than the country''s capital."


    Coin nodded, even though he didn''t understand exactly what the two were talking about. Still, it was nice to know the land was called Arcadia. "Demihumans?" he asked aloud.


    "They don''t have that term where you''re from?" Illyana asked.


    "... Sure," Coin eventually replied.


    Elijah hummed, looking up at the clouds. "It''s a term used for beings like goblins, ogres, kobolds, and such. Things that are humanoid but are too savage or dangerous to be part of mainstream society. Folks down by the temples say they''re the souls of sinners, reincarnated into monstrous bodies as punishment for their wicked ways. Don''t know if I put much stock in that theory, but the thought alone gets some folks paranoid."


    Coin considered all of this, furrowing his brow. He watched the bulky orange figures falling further and further into the distance. Was he a demihuman, then? Well, at least he had the chance to blend in with human society now. Though, in his case, it was due to a fluke.


    Goblins, ogres, and their kin weren''t so fortunate. And it struck Coin as slightly unfair, when he thought about it. Surely not all of them deserves to be shoved out into the wild like this. There had to be some with the capacity to grow and evolve. He had the chance to be free, but most of them never would. And having tasted freedom for himself, he knew all too well what those vicious bastards underground would forever be missing out on.


    Illyana sighed, sinking back into the bench. "A lot of monster attacks have been reported these past months, and contracts at the Guild are coming in faster than they can be cleared. Wish the countryside got the same protection the larger cities have."


    "It''ll happen eventually, I''m sure," Elijah mused. "When the Archchancellor is satisfied with his own security, at least."


    "Interesting times, unfortunately," the elf muttered.


    Coin silently digested this information, sitting still while the wagon rumbled under his backside. "What exactly do you have back here?" he eventually asked, gesturing to the crates and containers rattling behind them.


    "Hm?" Elijah perked up, giving the reins a light flick. Dancer chittered in response. "Oh, nothing special. Preserved goods from Whiteford, set to be delivered to a few stores in Wheat Valley. It''s a modest job, but someone has to do it. And the pay is decent, all things considered."


    Coin perked up at that. Pay? A chance to get more money? "And is there much... money to be made in the Mercantile Guild?" he asked. If he could steadily be paid, and reduce the risk of being sticking pieces of metal into his body in any way, then that was a path worth taking.


    "Depends on where you look for it. There''s always jobs that need doing, always goods that need to be delivered. In places like this, however, you shouldn''t expect to make too much per delivery. The cities, that''s where the real money is made. Only..." Elijah sighed and shook his head. "Well, good luck dealing with all the competition. The larger companies make it harder for independent merchants to secure contracts."


    "And those groups will spread further and further to the countryside in due time. It''s inevitable," Illyana said.


    "Well, one of the larger companies will win out over the other eventually. Let ''em have at it, I say. I much prefer the humble route I''ve got."


    The politics flew over Coin''s head, in truth. But he had enough of a rudimentary understanding to know that big things were happening with Elijah''s group, and that there was an abundance of gold to be found in it. The prospect made Coin smirk to himself.


    He turned to face the old man, who gave him a curious sideways glance. "Say, Elijah, can just about anyone join this Mercantile Guild?" the mimic asked.


    "If they''re willing to put the legwork in, sure. Why? Looking for a job? Because I think we''d benefit greatly from a passionate lad like you on board. Once your literacy is up to snuff, at least." He grinned, excitement twinkling in his eyes. Illyana seemed more surprised, but ultimately held her tongue as she quietly observed the two men.


    "If there''s money to be made, I''ll gladly make it. Just show me what to do, and I''ll go for it!" Coin enthusiastically replied. It seemed slightly less dangerous than being an adventurer, when it came to making money. Of course he had no way of knowing that merchants were more prone to stabbing each other in the back than most other vocations.


    If he was to follow his dream of being surrounded by meat and gold, this seemed as good a starting point as any. He could still vividly recall the inside of Elijah''s lockbox, those glittering golden stacks. If that was considered ''small time'' by human standards, what kind of money would he have if he reached the heights of those larger merchant groups?


    He had every intention of finding out.

 Chapter 7 - Into Wheat Valley

    Wheat Valley''s name proved to be apt, owing to the vast golden fields that led toward the outer wall. Coin had seen it from afar well in advance, but it seemed all the more massive when their carriage was rumbling between the fields. From where he sat, Coin could see farmhouses dotted among the expanses of grain, being tended by wandering farmers.


    Groups of armed men also patrolled along the outer paths. The guards travelled in pairs, about as well armed as the bandits from the other night had been. While every guard carried a pike, Coin noted that only a few of them had horns on their belts.


    They were, to be entirely blunt, far from intimidating as far as soldiers went. Being a pack of lanky and gangly lads who only barely fit their surcoats, if a monster were to attack the fields, and the soldiers on the wall could not rally in time, their only hope was that they could best a monster by making it die from laughter.


    "Well, thank goodness," Illyana said, leaning forward in her seat. "Can''t wait to turn these weapons in and get paid. And then grab myself some well-earned beer."


    "I should hope you get what you deserve. I''m told the Guild doesn''t give out great payment these days," said Elijah.


    "It''s enough to get by," Illyana said, shrugging. "But I was thinking of heading northward. See if I can''t join one of those larger dungeon expeditions. Gotta raise my rank somehow, after all."


    "Doesn''t sound very safe. Or stable," said Coin. Adventurers, from his experience, tended to be reckless and greedy. More often than not this resulted in them getting skewered by goblin traps, crushed by falling debris, or munched by Coin''s own jaws. Illyana was one of the rare exceptions. And he couldn''t quite fathom why someone would willingly trudge into a dark and dangerous ruin with so little money to be made at the end of it.


    But Illyana simply laughed. "If I wanted a safe life, I would have stayed with my family."


    "That said," Elijah said, not lifting his eyes from the road, "it is a bit rare to see elves in the Adventurer''s Guild. Not that they aren''t allowed, of course, it''s just... most elves don''t seem like they''d want to join."


    "I''m not most elves."


    Coin gave her a curious look. "Well, why wouldn''t others join?"


    The blonde sighed, briefly closing her eyes. "Damn foolish pride, I suppose. There are plenty of my kin who are still clinging to the ancient past, trying to avoid joining human organisations as much as possible. The days of our races being separate are long gone, but plenty of elves still want to pretend that isn''t the case."


    "Well, thank goodness you''re an open minded lass," said Elijah.


    "Guess I wasn''t given much of a choice in the matter." The blonde chose not to elaborate any further.


    Dancer''s scuttling legs slowed their pace as they reached the outer gate. An assortment of guards were standing at a checkpoint, watching Elijah beneath the sloping visors of their helmets. Elijah smiled at them in turn.


    "Ahoy there lads!" the old man called. "Wonderful day, eh?"


    One of the guards looked beyond the wagon, toward the setting sun painting an orange haze on the horizon. "We''ve had worse days," he eventually replied. "Go on through."


    The group halted only briefly to lodge Dancer at one of Wheat Valley''s stables. Coin noticed a few other mushiens in the other stalls, but horses and donkeys made up the majority of the lodgers. Illyana took her wagon back, pulling it along behind her like a rickshaw.


    "Seems we''re parting ways for now," Illyana said as they passed through the gate. "I''ll wish you two luck going forward. And, ideally, you''ll stay safe. If the spirits will it, we''ll meet again."


    Coin nodded. He was, admittedly, a touch sad to be parting from the elf. The first ''friendly'' face he had ever known. "Take care of yourself, then. And here''s hoping you get the money you deserve for your work."


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    Elijah led the way deeper into the town, and Coin soon found himself breathless as he took in the scale of everything. Buildings loomed over him, throngs of people being pumped through the interlocking streets like blood through a series of veins.


    The most people he had ever seen in place before had been whenever he spied a large group of goblins prowling the temple. And those numbers paled in comparison to the abundance of humans and halflings milling about the cobblestone streets of Wheat Valley.


    They emerged into the central street, lined on either side by food stalls. The scent of frying oil and spices filled Coin''s nose, briefly making him halt in place. His mouth salivated, roaming along the stalls. Then halting at the strange little card affixed to the front of one of them, with little illustrations of things like stew, skewered meat, and bread rolls stuffed with slices of spiced meat. The card outlined the price for each item, the number of ducats written in a tight scrawl by each illustration.


    "Spend... money?" Coin murmured under his breath once the concept clicked in his head. He supposed it made sense, he couldn''t imagine these people making things and then giving them out for free, but the idea of giving up some of his money made his chest tighten.


    "Ah, don''t go buying any of that my lad. It''s overpriced junk," Elijah muttered, moving past the mimic. "We can get food at the guild hall. In fact, if my hunch is correct, they probably have fried chicken available today!"


    If it was anything like the grilled bird from the other night, Coin was more than willing to try it.


    As they went along, and Coin cast his widened eyes all about, he couldn''t help but feel drawn to one building near the middle of the town that seemed to loom over all others. A great white brick structure, with four towers protruding from the corners.


    "Gaudy, isn''t it?" Elijah asked without looking his way. "I''ve never been much of a religious sort, you know, but I believe people should be free to worship as they please. That all said, well, I''ve oft questioned why every deity seems to need a massive, opulent temple. If I was a god, I''d hardly care where my worshippers congregate. And I certainly wouldn''t want my priests spreading my word to the destitute while wearing ridiculous jewels and headpieces."


    Coin grunted. "Whole thing sounds strange to me, if I''m honest." If gods existed, were they always watching? How could one being watch everybody at once? And if they were so powerful, why would they care about what lowly mortals did? The more Coin thought about it, the stranger it all seemed to him. Maybe you had to be human to get it.


    The mimics, as a whole, had no grasp of religion, in much the same way cats and dogs had no concept of it. Time spent praying was time spent not eating or sleeping. But if he was living as a human, would he need to pretend to worship a god? He supposed it was another thing to look into.


    Elijah grinned at him, furrowing the deep wrinkles of his face. "Ha. I like you, lad. Seems you and I share a common strand of thinking."


    Coin smiled, a strange sensation rising in his chest. Mimics were solitary by their very nature. They left their parents soon after being born, even the concept of family being an alien thought to them. After all, food was a scarce resource in their environment. Something they would always be competing over. And an inconspicuous treasure chest seemed much less inconspicuous if there was a second identical treasure chest only a few paces away.


    Now though he was encountering people who were kind to him. And as strange as it was, initially, he found he quite liked the kindness. Money was better, of course, but it was pleasant. Better than having people sticking spears in him.


    The lodge of the Mercantile Guild was near the heart of the main street. A looming red brick structure, with two flags bordering the doors. They depicted a pale blue field, upon which sat a neat pile of gold, a compass, and an unfurled map. A great circular stained glass window dominated the second floor, looming cover the archway. Looking at it from afar, Coin could see a compass patterned into the glass.


    "And here we are!" Elijah said, beaming. "A fine spot. Building is nearly half a century old by now. Other guild halls may be bigger, but few are as comfortable or refined as the one before us."


    Coin nodded, following silently after the old man. The great red doors creaked open, Elijah huffing and puffing from the exertion as he opened them. But he declined Coin''s help, with all the pride of an old man who would take a broken back before admitting he needed a hand.


    The white marble floor of the foyer quickly caught Coin''s eye, the edges aglow from the burning braziers positioned about the chamber. He could see a few other merchants milling about, some engaged in very heated debates with each other. The words ''investments'', ''funds'', ''profits'', and ''economics'' were thrown about passionately, and garnered either reactions of delight or horror from whoever heard them. A bad deal, or failed investment, was like news of a gruesome murder to the merchants.


    Coin considered himself good at listening into human conversations. Hours spent eavesdropping from the darkness, listening in on the chatter of adventurers. And while that had given him a large vocabulary when he was evolved, those adventurers seemed to be speaking an entirely different language when compared to the fast pace and lofty words used by the merchants.


    Elijah seemed much less impressed, sporting a sarcastic smile as he examined the group. "Didn''t realise it was amateur hour. Word to the wise, my lad," he raised a wrinkled hand and motioned toward two of the men on a nearby bench. "Never take advice from them. They may dress sharply, but it''s all artifice. When it comes to their investments? Awful business sense."


    "Really?"


    "Oh yes. Cutting corners on their supplies, making deals with unscrupulous criminals as opposed to reputable criminals, trying to hawk shoddy wares. Shameful stuff." Elijah turned, looking him in the eye. "Stick with me, listen to my advice, and we''ll do things the right way. Precisely, ethically, and profitably." Coin didn''t quite know what those words meant, but they sure sounded important.


    Coin glanced from Elijah to the other merchants. Well, he had no reason to doubt Elijah''s insights when it came to such matters. And the old man clearly had wealth, after all, and that was enough for Coin to fixate on.


    "Sounds doable. But I''ll admit, I don''t know where to even get started," said Coin.


    Elijah nodded firmly. "A man''s word is his bond, my lad. I''ll take you under my wing, guide you deeper and deeper into the Mercantile Guild''s way of life. But I need to know you''ll follow my guidance." He held a hand out to shake. "Swear to it."


    This time Coin had a better grasp of a handshake, gripping his hand firmly. "I swear."


    Elijah''s face brightened. "Good lad. Come on, let''s go and get you registered."

 Chapter 8 - Join the Guild

    The reception desk of the hall was manned by a gnome, perched in a large chair with a pair of tomes under her backside to give her some extra height. She was dressed in a sharp suit with an emerald waistcoat, her dark hair slicked back. The gnome was busy poring over a ledger, only glancing up as Elijah''s shadow fell over her.


    "Ah, the esteemed DiVenture. So good to see you safe and sound," she said, adjusting her brass spectacles.


    "And you too, Altrest. Shame my bodyguard wasn''t so fortunate." He sighed and shook his head. "My gut told me he was more of a novice than he let on, and I knew I should have gone with my gut."


    Altrest tutted and shook her head. "Always be wary of the local yokels. Far too many farmboys with swords out there, thinking they''ll be the next Lord Imbel."


    "Aye, too true."


    "Speaking of farmboys," she said, scanning her eyes over to Coin. "Seems you found a stray."


    "More like he found me. This brave lad saved my bony backside when my bodyguard went down. And he''s looking to join our order."


    Coin took a stiff step forward. "I''m Coin. It''s... good to meet you," he stiffly said. That was how humans greeted each other, at least he was sure that was how it was done.


    Altrest looked at him, unimpressed. "Altrest Lowshroom. Charmed." Her face and her words seemed to be on a completely different page. "Ordinarily we don''t take in new applicants out of the blue. But if Elijah is vouching for you, that''s good enough for me."


    "Hoh," Elijah chuckled and shook his head. "Nice to know I still have some pull in these parts."


    Ignoring him, Altrest locked eyes with Coin. "You need two things to become a licensed vendor with the Mercantile Guild. We need your name, with which we can print your identification. And a registration fee."


    "A registration fee," Coin replied. Paying with his own money... he thought he was going to break out in a nervous sweat. He felt for the coins stored inside his flesh, his torso a breathing coinpurse. Could he bring himself to part with them?


    But Elijah, fortunately stepped forth. He set a stack of coins onto the varnished desk, which glittered when the light struck them. Altrest hummed, checking them coin by coin, and then set them in a drawer in her desk. She scribbled a few lines in her ledger, nodded, and then went to fetch another book.


    "Very good," Altrest said. "Now, we just need your name and surname. In registering as a Guild merchant, you are expected to abide by the full charter of the Guild, and to follow all Arcadian economic laws. These things should go without saying, but we''ve had too many people thinking that a Guild badge gives them a blank check to run business however they see fit."


    The gnome set a contract before him, covered from top to bottom with tiny little letters than nearly tripped Coin up as he read through them. Several words were written in capitals, some were bolded, yet the emphasis made nothing clearer to Coin. It didn''t help that he was only barely touching the tip of the iceberg on literacy.


    "These are just things related to the rules and regulations of the guild. I''ll talk you through them as we go along. But, don''t worry, stick with me and you won''t come close to breaking any rules," Elijah explained.


    That part wasn''t what bothered Coin. Rather, he found himself concerned by the line at the bottom asking for his name. He needed a surname apparently, and having to come up with one on the spot nearly made his flesh prickle nervously. A name that everyone would call him by, and a second name that assigned him to a family.


    He could feel Altrest watching him warily, slowly lifting her left eyebrow. It probably shouldn''t have taken this long for someone to sign, even someone who was pretending to read the fine print.


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    Inspiration struck him rather suddenly, coming up with a name that was almost as important to him as the accrual of wealth. The same temple that had once served as his home, and was the place where he''d evolved.


    The name he settled on, in full, was ''Coin Thaeka.'' Then Elijah, after looking over Coin''s shoulder, rewrote the name for him in a much more legible hand. He was even nice enough to fix Coin''s spelling mistakes.


    "Coin?" Altrest asked, looking him the eye. "Your parents named you... Coin? I suppose this was inevitable for you, then."


    The mimic shrugged. "They had grand plans for me," he lied. Frankly he doubted his parents wanted him to do anything other than keep away from whatever food they wanted to eat.


    Deciding not to dwell on it further, Altrest took the signed contract and replaced it with a large book fished from her desk. "This is a copy of the current charter. Has all the rules and regulations spelled out in detail. And a few other handy things, like a map of Arcadia, a directory of towns and cities with Mercantile Guild halls, and a glossary of important terms."


    Coin nodded, taking the tome into his hands. It was a weighty thing, even without the sturdy leather cover. In a pinch, it would be a handy blunt weapon.


    "One more thing." The gnome slid from her seat and hastened to a strange machine at the far end of her office. She moved up a step stool, fiddling with a few iron clamps and wheels that steadily positioned a large red machine hanging from the ceiling. She slid a length of metal underneath the looming machine, which was soon lit up by a pale blue light shining from its prongs.


    The light was intense, forcing Coin to wince and recoil. Altrest seemed not to notice the glare at all.


    She returned soon after, offering him a length of iron that could fit into the palm of his hand. His name was hewn into the metal, the letters glowing with a faint blue light akin to the glow of the machine. The symbol of the Mercantile Guild was etched into the back.


    "Your guild badge, my lad. Your symbol of status. Of course, at Rank 1 there''s not much status to it," Elijah said, chortling. "Forgot how... bland the Rank 1 badge is."


    "You want a good looking badge," Altrest hopped into her seat, "you work for it."


    "Mm. True enough." Elijah, as if sensing Coin''s curiosity, reached into his coat to produce his own badge. They were about even in size, but Elijah''s had been forged from gold so pure that it made Coin''s mouth water just to look upon it. His name was hewn with glittering ruby light. "It may be a while before you reach Rank 10. But I''m sure you''ll appreciate the hard work when you get there."


    Coin shook himself to attention, trying to think of anything but the golden gleam of that badge. "Well, I have every intention of reaching Rank 10. Just you watch."


    "You sound much like I did at your age, dear lad," Elijah replied, little realising they were likely far closer in age than either of them were aware. "Keep hold of that passion, never lose sight of it, and it''ll take you far."


    Altrest sighed, resting her cheek on her right fist. "You and your lofty speeches. Guess you''ve earned the right, given all you''ve accomplished, but it''s still a pain."


    "Why thank you, Altrest. I pride myself on being a pain." He pressed a hand to Coin''s back, motioning for the mimic to follow after him.


    Coin peered at the tome again. "There''s going to be a lot of reading involved in being a merchant, huh?" he asked.


    "Comes with the territory. But once you do it enough, the reading and mathematics will be second nature to you."


    "I hope so." He couldn''t help but wince a bit at the term ''mathematics.'' Whatever that strange, misshapen word translated into, Coin had decided he already disliked it. "What do we do now?"


    "Now... I really ought to get those goods I brought offloaded sooner rather than later. But I can put it off for a little while longer," Elijah said, leading him deeper into the hall.


    Coin scratched at the back of his head. "I was hoping to maybe speak to someone who knows about magic and such. Illyana told me there''s a witch in Wheat Valley who can handle things like that."


    "Ah. Scylla. Yes, she does handle magical issues, for a price. I won''t pry, a man has his reasons, but I should warn you that a witch won''t do things cheaply. I''ll point you in the right direction all the same," Elijah nodded as he spoke, his mouth pulling into a thin frown.


    Coin grimaced. Was he just going to have to get use to the idea of throwing his money at things?


    "Though, by now, she''s probably closed up shop for the night. And likely wouldn''t appreciate being disturbed. Take this lesson to heart, my lad, witches and wizards are quick to take offence, and their retribution can be quite brutal. They''re an... intense people," Elijah explained.


    While Coin had never fought a wizard in his more primal days, he had still been able to sense danger whenever he had been in the presence of one. Like a dog sensing danger from a wicked man, mimics instinctively understood the danger posed by magic. Humans with weapons could be risky at times, but generally a mimic could overwhelm them in strength and speed. Wizards and their ilk had a much greater bag of tricks on their side.


    "Ah. Let''s leave business to the morrow, yes?" Elijah said, meeting Coin''s eyes. "Too late to deal with paperwork and similar nonsense. What''s say we grab some food, and then lodge here for the night?"


    Coin sniffed the air. The smell of fried meat hit his nose, tinged with spices that tickled the insides of his nostrils. The mimic swallowed hard. "Is that the... fried chicken you spoke of?"


    Elijah offered him a wan smile. "It is indeed, my lad. Something of an Arcadian specialty."


    The mess hall of the lodge was a modest chamber, lined with tables and benches, and was thoroughly dominated with the thick scent of fried meat. He was drawn in, near lifted off his feet by his nostrils as the smell invaded his mind. Even if cooked food didn''t benefit him like raw meat did... there was a lot to be said about the taste.


    Dinner, for both men, consisted of a plate of chicken pieces in a golden batter, steaming from a freshly cooked heat. Coin ate his with relish, and could have cried with joy from the delicious taste that coated his mouth from every bite.


    Elijah just laughed, amused by how easily pleased the mimic was. "If you think this is good, my lad," he said, gripping a half-eaten thigh in his gnarled fingers, "you haven''t seen anything yet."

 Chapter 9 - Brimming With Magic

    The two men parted in the morning, agreeing to meet again by midday after their respective business was dealt with. Elijah had guided Coin toward Scylla''s shop, which sat on the base of Wheat Valley''s central street.


    The sign hanging above the door was an iron framed piece of varnished wood, depicting a black cat sitting in front of a pile of gemstones. The shop was named, quite appropriately, ''Black Cat Arcana.''


    A bell rang above the door as Coin pushed inside, the smell of incense and dusty old books swiftly hitting his nose. The mimic scanned about, blinking in the smoky light that seemed to dominate the interior. Candles were lit about the place, sensibly placed away from anything that could have been set alight, giving the shop an ambience that reminded Coin of the temple.


    A quick scan around the interior of the shop revealed that all the products were neatly arranged in specific areas. One stretch of the room was dominated by bookshelves, laden with tomes that looked every bit as good at bludgeoning as the Guild charter had been. Another section of the shelves was littered with gemstones of varying hues and sizes.


    Coin was no stranger to gemstones, there had once been plenty in the temple. Though, admittedly, the number of gems had grown slimmer and slimmer over the years. But, even from where he stood, Coin could tell there was something different about the gemstones on sale here. A cloudy light swam in the crystals, casting a multicoloured glow that hummed in the gloom.


    Then, to the opposite end of the room, Coin could see mason jars filled with ingredients and bottles containing a variety of potions. Whatever was in the containers, the various liquids reflected all the colours of the rainbow (and several colours Coin had never imagined before). Some of the liquids looked rather tasty. Others gave him the distinct impression that all of his insides would become outsides if he drank them.


    Finally his eyes fell upon the figure seated behind the counter at the heart of the shop. A pale woman, roughly the same height as Coin, adorned in a flowing black dress. The tips of her ears were partially pointed, but not to the same extent Illyana''s had been, her raven hair falling in a plait over her left shoulder. A wide brimmed pointy had sat atop her head, the hat band marked by a pair of silver crescents that swayed whenever she moved her head.


    "We don''t brew love potions here," she flatly said, not looking up from the book in her hands.


    "I don''t follow," Coin replied as he entered. The rosewood door clicked shut behind him, without anyone laying a hand upon it.


    "Whenever I get a fresh face in my store," the witch said, lazily flicking another page, "particularly when they are men in your age range, they expect me to solve their romantic woes." She glanced up to meet his eyes, a light violet hue shining in her pupils.


    "Well, that sort of thing doesn''t interest me," Coin said, venturing further inside. "But I was hoping to ask for some information on... alchemy, I suppose."


    The witch nodded, closing her tome. "A consultation, then? Fine, we can do business in that case. Especially seeing as you''re cute. Call me Scylla."


    "Call me Coin," he replied, making his way to Scylla''s counter.


    Her lips, painted purple, formed into a smile. "Interesting," she simply said. "Well, consultations aren''t free. What do you need to know?"


    The mimic hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek at the prospect of giving up his money. He probably would have bitten clean through the flesh if he hadn''t reflexively hardened it. But he needed answers, he needed to understand what had happened to him. "How much?" he asked.


    "Depends on what you wish to know."


    Coin nodded, his posture tense. "Then, what can you tell me about potions that can make a person smarter?"


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    Scylla tilted her head, still sporting an impish smile. She offered a hand up to him, her fingertips curling toward her palm. "Fifteen ducats. And that''s me giving a discount," she said, batting her eyelashes at the mimic.


    Money shifted from the inside of Coin''s biomass, perfectly preserved, and emerged from the ''pocket'' by his left hip. He counted all fifteen coins, then slowly handed they money to Scylla with all the effort of a man chopping his own arm off. She made no move to count the coins, simply sliding them into a pouch on her belt.


    "What do you wish to know?"


    "I have a few questions. Firstly... do potions like that actually exist? How do they function?"


    "A potion that can make a person smarter. Yes, such a thing exists," the witch said, leaning against the counter. "It''s commonly called an Elixir of Brilliance. Wizards are fond of them, gives them a temporary boost that helps in studying magic, or sharpens their minds for magical duels."


    "Temporary?" Coin replied, trying to keep a flat expression. But inwardly he felt his guts churn with anxiety.


    "Usually lasts for a few hours. Sometimes more, sometimes less, depending on factors like mental strain, magical exertion, or the volume of elixir imbibed."


    Coin slowly nodded at her explanation. Well, suffice to say he had ingested that potion more than a few hours ago. If the effects hadn''t worn off by now, perhaps they never would? "And what would happen if a wild animal were to drink one of those elixirs?" he asked.


    Scylla hummed at the question, tapping her chin with an elegantly manicured fingernail. She lifted that same finger and motioned toward one of the tomes on her shelf. A spark of umbral light shone from her digit, wreathing the distant book and then pulling it from its moorings in an elegant telekinetic flourish. She caught it, and leafed through a few pages.


    "This is ''Uplifting of the Beast'', a book of experiments written by Deinyse of Oldspire. Fascinating fellow, completely off his chair, but he did conduct many intriguing experiments. In particular, within this book, he recorded his attempts to ''uplift'' animals and monsters with samples of the elixir." She looked up to meet his eyes, her eyes half-lidded. "The results were rarely good."


    A chill raced down his spine. "In what way?"


    "Well he attempted to increase the intelligent of things like dogs and rats. Admittedly the potion had a longer effect on them than it did for humans, but not without drawbacks." She flicked through the pages and seemed to settle on a particular paragraph. "Migraines, hallucinations, blackouts... when you take a creature and suddenly make it as smart as a human, without the time to acclimate or steadily adapt, it''s a lot for their grey matter to take. They were smarter, yes, but many of them were lucky to last for a year."


    "I... see."


    "Would you like me to read the passage about the mountain chimp who hung himself when he was taught about existentialism?" she asked, smiling. Her eyes shone with interest at the prospect.


    "I''d... rather you not," Coin replied, visibly wincing. "Still, did this Deinyse try these experiments on monsters?"


    Scylla''s eyes brightened, her smile growing a fraction broader. "My. What an interesting question. You certainly have some intriguing tastes, Mister Coin," she said, speaking in a voice that made the skin on the back of Coin''s neck prickle. "Deinyse was curious, and a lunatic, but not stupid. Giving human intellect to an ogre, or a manticore, or suchlike? Beyond dangerous. So he did experiment a tad with smaller creatures like goblins and kikimoras. The results were generally better. The goblin, apparently, composed a lengthy ballad about urinating on mushrooms."


    "So he never used that potion on anything like, say, a slime? Or a mimic?" Coin asked, trying to maintain a calm tone.


    The witch stifled a laugh as it rose in her throat. "Goodness no. Only a maniac would risk giving higher intellect to creatures like that. Could you imagine what a shapeshifter would do if they were that smart? Terrible to consider."


    Well, she wasn''t wrong, but it was still hurtful to hear it phrased in such a way.


    "This is a fascinating line of questioning. But an oddly specific one. If you don''t mind me asking... why are you so interested?" Scylla asked, her gaze meeting his with a burning intensity.


    Coin managed to maintain a cold expression, betraying none of the anxiety bubbling up inside of him. "Asking for a friend. He was doing some looting in a tomb, and lost one of his potions. Guess he''s worried about a monster eating it and getting smart." The mimic shrugged. "Or, at least, that''s my understanding. He was skittish and vague on the details," he said, being skittish and vague on the details.


    Which was perhaps not the best lie ever, but Coin considered it good enough. And it wasn''t entirely untrue either, he reasoned. If one considered a random dead wizard to be his friend. Who indeed ''lost'' a potion by dying abruptly with the potion hitched to his belt.


    The witch scoffed, motioning the book back to its original position on the shelf. "Is that all? It''s nothing to worry about. No animal is stupid enough to bite a glass bottle. Especially if they can pick up on the chemical scent therein."


    And when Coin thought about it, his old self would have ignored a potion bottle entirely if he saw one lying in the open. If it wasn''t shiny, or didn''t have a meaty scent to it, a mimic would hardly be interested. Goblins, similarly, weren''t interested in human loot if it couldn''t be used to murder someone, or to protect their green hides from getting murdered.


    Still, he felt some sense of relief. By the sound of things, monsters didn''t suffer a ''time limit'' after being exposed to that elixir. His intellect, for the time being, seemed to be safe.


    "Is that all you want to know? Truly?" Scylla asked, venturing back to her counter. She reached for a cup of tea on the varnished wood, which steamed as if it was still freshly brewed. "I sort of expected... more out of you, if I''m being totally honest. Considering the vibe you give off."


    A chill raced down Coin''s spine. His... vibe? Had she seen through him? He clenched his fists subtly behind his back, willing power to surge through his muscles. "What do you mean?" he asked, tilting his head to one side.


    She took a long sip of her tea, as if relishing keeping Coin on edge. Though her face betrayed no emotion. "I assumed you were coming to me on wizardry business. After all, you''re absolutely brimming with magic," she stated.

 Chapter 10 - Thunder and Lightning

    Silence lingered between the two for some time. Coin stared at her in bewilderment, while Scylla''s expression remained neutral. "I... don''t follow," he eventually replied.


    "You have magical potential in you. Are you truly not aware of that?" the witch asked, twitching her eyebrow at him.


    "Do I look like a man who is aware of that?!" he asked, flipping his hands upward.


    The witch merely chuckled, pinching her chin with her right hand. "Well, late bloomers are not uncommon. Plenty of people who have the potential, but live their lives unaware of that fact. It''s just, usually those people have rather modest magical potential. To be expected, when they haven''t spent years cultivating and honing their mystical potential. You, however, have the potential of a seasoned wizard."


    Coin paled. That didn''t seem right to him. How could a mimic have magical potential? Was it something that was naturally possible, but no other mimic had the wits to capitalize on it? No, the more he thought about it, the less likely that seemed.


    If mimics could naturally use magic, then in theory any wild animal could. Yet, as he contemplated his prospects, a worrying realisation dawned on him.


    The wizard from the temple. He hadn''t eaten him fully, but he had still absorbed some of his flesh and blood. A mimic could absorb physical strength and vitality from any living being they ate, compounding their own strength.


    But if they ate a wizard or witch, did they absorb their magical capabilities without even realising it? He''d never had a chance to eat a wizard prior to his evolution, and he had to imagine that most other mimics never got the chance. Their trickery, after all, could easily be seen through with the right spells.


    Even if a mimic got lucky and chewed on an unassuming or dead wizard, it wasn''t like they''d be aware of the latent energy now circulating deep within their bodies. Or have the knowledge to cast spells.


    "Fascinating," Scylla said, her expression betraying no inner emotion. Yet, as she regarded him, Coin could almost sense the scrutiny in her gaze. "Ordinarily I would ask for more money to do a service like this, but I suppose you''ve piqued my interest enough to get this for free."


    She whirled around, her dark skirt swishing elegantly, and quickly made for a cabinet near the back of her room, She fished out a lockbox and hastily unlatched it. Coin watched, curious, as Scylla produced a deck of black cards from the box. The material glittered whenever the candlelight struck them.


    "Those who are born with the capacity for magic will, inevitably, have one field where their magic is the strongest. Like a gravitational pull, directing the majority of the strength." She unfurled the cards on the table in a ring with an elegant gesture. Then, effortlessly, she twitched a finger that caused the cards to rise one by one until they were all standing on their sides. "The tarot is the means to determine the strength of your magic."


    Coin regarded her warily. "Why do you want to know?" he asked, quietly examining the glittering cards.


    "Like I said, I''m interested. It''s rare indeed for someone to come through my door radiating magic, yet being totally unaware of that. You''re some kind of rare prodigy. Frankly," Scylla smirked and crossed her arms, "I consider it my responsibility to help lift you from your ignorance. Lest it cause any problems down the line."


    Again he tried to read meaning into her expression, and found himself to be completely illiterate. And Scylla was a professional at guarding her emotions.


    The mimic relented, making for the ring of cards and holding a hand out toward them. A few of them twitched and vibrated as his fingertips brushed the air near them. One of them suddenly leapt off the table and landed in his palm. The contact sent a tingle racing up toward his shoulder.


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    Coin examined the image on the card. A gathering of dark clouds, positioned above a forest that was being torn asunder by roiling wind and bolts of lightning, Scylla leaned around his side for a better look at the card, her eyes betraying nothing.


    "Ah. Storm magic, eh?" she asked. "Well, that''s interesting. Certainly a potent school of magic to have an affinity toward if you''re interested in pure destructive power. Willing thunder, lightning, and wind at your fingertips. Yes, not bad. You could go pretty far if you cultivate that talent properly."


    Coin stared at the card, then at his free hand. If such power lurked somewhere inside of him, he had no idea how to call upon it. And if that dead wizard could control the storm, it hadn''t done much to keep him from getting cocky and killed by lowly goblins.


    "This is... a lot to take in," he admitted.


    "I would imagine so," Scylla replied, giving him a look often reserved for three-legged puppies. A look of ''oh how adorable you are, trying your best.''


    "So, can I not use other kinds of magic?" This was, after all, entirely new to him.


    "You can, but it''s tricky depending on what field of magic you''re trying to tap into. Particularly for a field of magic that lies opposite your own. Earth magic, in your case. And since your power has a natural affinity for destruction, schools of magic focused on creation and restoration will be weaker in your hands." She motioned to the cards, which neatly shuffled themselves back into a deck at her command. "Think of it like trying to write a letter with your weak hand. You can do it, but your penmanship will be awful."


    Coin nodded, even though he had zero understanding of what the witch was talking about. Humans had weak hands? "I really wouldn''t know where to even start when it comes to magic." But, if he had the capacity for it, then he could benefit greatly from it. Perhaps, even, find a way to use magic to make money. If anything, it would make fighting much easier if he got a good handle on it.


    The mimic inspected his free hand, repeatedly flexing his fingers. If there was any magic in him, he couldn''t feel anything distinct.


    "Consider this a gift, then," the witch said, making for her rows of bookshelves. She quickly returned, holding in her hands a leather bound tome, the spine a faded purple colour and nearly as thick as Coin''s forearm. An image of crossing silver lightning bolts was printed on the cover, above which was written the title, which Scylla spoke aloud: "The Sensible Young Warlock''s Guide to Basic Vetramancy - Ponderances on the Creation and Control of Thunderings, Lightnings, Voices, and Similar Phenomena." Silence hung in the air between them.


    "Bit of an older guide," Scylla admitted. She blew a bit of dust from the cover and winced at the volume that emerged. "But it is the most fundamental guide on storm magic you are likely to find."


    "These are... the fundamentals?" he asked, lifting the book and weighing it in his palm. It made the guild charter feel like a piece of tissue.


    "Nobody ever said magic was easy. And if they did, they were lying," said Scylla. "Keep it. Free of charge."


    Coin flicked through a few of the pages, only to find his eyes assaulted with strange symbols and tightly printed blocks of text. Wizard children must have had it rough if these were the types of books shoved in their face.


    "Why?" he eventually asked, looking back toward the witch. "Just... for the sake of your own curiosity?"


    Scylla sipped her tea again, letting the question hang in the air as if to keep Coin on edge. Eventually she peered into his eyes from the rim of her cup. "Curiosity, you''ll come to find, is a defining trait of most witches and wizards. And a natural potential like yours? I''m deathly curious to see it cultivated."


    She offered her hand to him, and Coin decided to oblige her. A spark radiated between their digits, sending waves through every muscle in his body. The feeling persisted, even after their hands parted, and he found himself staring at his own fingers in awe. Electricity hopped briefly between his fingertips, before hastily fizzling away.


    "What... was that?"


    "I reached in and gave your power a bit of a nudge, just to confirm its presence. Indeed, your potential is quite potent. But I should warn you to start slow in actually using magic. Draw too much out in one go, and things could quickly go haywire for you. Which, in turn, would prove problematic for other witches and wizards. There are always people looking for an excuse to distrust our ilk." She lifted her hands into view, letting Coin see the chromatic rings on her fingertips. "And while you can use magic with your bare hands, it''s generally advised to buy a conduit of some kind. A staff, a wand, an amulet, a ring... whatever. So long as it has promethium mined from a meteor, it will be able to conduct magic. Alas, I have no such catalysts to sell."


    The humming of Coin''s limbs grew faint, then vanished entirely. But he already wanted it back, wanted to feel the rush of power coursing through his flesh again. Tucking the book under his arm, he offered her a nod. "Thanks. I really owe you."


    "No need to thank me. I''ll just be content to see your progress."


    Scylla stood back watching the young man as he left. She remained in place, even after the bell above the door stopped ringing.


    The witch hummed to herself. "Fascinating," she muttered under her breath. She raised her right hand, a plume of shadows blossoming into existence at her command. It quickly morphed and took shape, like black clay being moulded on a pottery wheel, forming into a shape of a jet black wren.


    The tiny bird twittered, watching his surroundings with crystalline blue eyes. It took to the air, flying a few laps around his creator before flying out of her side window. In pursuit of her fascinating new customer.

 Chapter 11 - The Wheeler Dealers

    Coin and Elijah set off from Wheat Valley only a few days later, with the wagon freshly loaded for provisions to be sold to the nearby village of Coilroad. And from there, over the next few weeks, the two men ventured hither and thither, with Coin getting to see many towns and villages across the southern expanse of Arcadia.


    Elijah was seemingly always making deals, each delivery swiftly being followed up by a new pickup from a different client. He had said to Coin, quite bluntly, that every trip was to be an opportunity. There was always someone looking to do business with the Mercantile Guild, looking to buy or sell.


    And for everything he sold or bought, Elijah would make a detailed note of it in his ledger. The first few times he had made Coin sit beside him and watch, and then eventually he tasked Coin with taking notes in the ledger. The old man would watch, silently. And if Coin made a mistake he would tut, and guide his pencil to correct any errors. This was rather common early on, but Coin''s literacy and penmanship grew a little bit sharper with every lesson.


    Any of Elijah''s absentmindedness vanished whenever he was talking business, where the kindly old man would suddenly morph into a focused predator that would make a mimic look like a duckling.


    From Coilroad they bought an abundance of preserved meat, some for themselves and some for resale. They sold the meat at a town further afield, picked up alchemical supplies which were then bought at a higher mark-up at a lumber camp to the north where such things were in high demand. The lumber camp, in turn, sold them stacks of perfectly cut planks.


    Elijah had smiled knowingly, telling Coin he knew just the place to sell the wood. Which, as it happened, was a location a few days away from the lumber camp. An orchard known as Golden Fields which was undergoing expansion, with the skeletons of half-built buildings lingering on the horizon.


    The owner, undoubtedly the roundest man Coin had ever seen in his life, had indeed been looking for more wood to help build up new quarters for his workers, and a new storage building. The mimic had stood a few paces away as he and Elijah engaged in a form of combat known in the business as ''haggling.''


    Haggling, to Coin, seemed to be a battle of wits. Both combatants would smile brightly at each other, seeming to punctuate each sentences with terms like ''old chum'', or ''my good man.'' Yet for as much as the men would smile, the venom in their eyes was barely disguised, and anger would flash in their pupils whenever the other man gave an offer the other found disagreeable.


    "Eight per plank? Oh, alas, I only wish I could give you this wood so cheaply, my dear friend," Elijah had said. His eyes, more bluntly, said ''I ought to punch your lights out for thinking you can con me like that, you wretch.''


    The orchard owner shook his head, which in turn shook his frankly outrageous number of chins. "These are lean times. You''d struggle to get a higher price these days, old sport." His eyes said ''be lucky I''m not sending you on your with with a kicked arse, you vagabond!''


    And so it went on, Coin''s eyes darting from man to man as they haggled. And eventually Elijah had suggested a sum that made the owner balk, and their debate culminated in the two agreeing on a slightly lower sum that left them both happy.


    Elijah was grinning as they made for the wagon. "Why are you so happy?" Coin asked. "You didn''t get the amount you wanted."


    "Oh I got exactly what I wanted, my lad," Elijah replied with a chuckle. "I asked for thirty per plank to throw that soak for a loop. Caught him off guard, as warriors like to say. So that the price I actually wanted, twenty two, seemed more reasonable. Now that fool thinks he''s taken us for a ride, and we''re making a profit of six ducats per plank. Now, come on, we better unload these quickly."


    The sun was starting to dip as they finished, at which point the orchard owner paid Elijah for his wood. And further sweetened the pot with a gift of several cider jugs. A gift was a very different thing to a bribe, this was something that the charter was rather explicit about. A gift given after a deal was finalized and written in the ledger, with the details of said gift also being recorded in the ledger, was all well and good.


    A bribe given to try and sweeten the pot on a deal, or to motivate people with unrecorded goods, was very much frowned upon. There were always those who tried to be sneaky about, Elijah had explained, but the clerks of the Mercantile Guild had a way of sniffing out deception with accuracy that would make a bloodhound feel impotent.


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    That night they set up camp a modest distance from the outskirts of the orchard. The glow from the twin moons highlighted the fields of apple trees, casting massive shadows. A campfire was lit between the men, who took swigs from separate cider jugs. Dancer, meanwhile, was busy gnawing a chunk of meat with his twitching mandibles.


    It was Coin''s first time drinking alcohol that wasn''t a trace from an adventurer''s blood. The initial fruity taste of the cider was nice enough, Coin reasoned, but he could have gone without the burn that raced down his throat. Elijah was less concerned, drinking until his cheeks burned red.


    "Ahh... Hate to say it, but that soak knows how to make good cider," Elijah said, every ''s'' sound faintly slurred. "Mmn. Almost a shame to sell the other jugs he gave us. I suppose we oughta..." he yawned and shook his head, "oughta see what kinda... kinda price we can get for them."


    "You alright?" Coin asked, watching him warily. He had drank much less than Elijah, admittedly, but he was surprised by how buckled his mentor seemed to be. He had seen his share of adventurers drinking by their campfires. Admittedly it added a nasty aftertaste to their meat, but alcohol near-always made them stupid, easy targets.


    Elijah, certainly, would have been good prey in that drunken stupor. Coin made a note to keep an eye on him until he was sobered up, for his own safety.


    "I''ll be alright," Elijah replied, waving him off. He swayed where he sat, nearly falling off the log he was perched upon. "You know, my dear father... he once told me cider is the Bleak''s best drink. Sneaks up on you with its sweet taste, just so... just so it can sucker punch your liver when you''ve had enough of it."


    Coin gave him a curious look. Why did humans willingly drink this if all it did was hurt them in the long run? If it tasted better, that would be one thing. Still, it was what humans did. So, Coin decided, it was best to just drink whenever it was offered to him. Anything to blend in.


    By the time Elijah finished drinking, he seemed to be on the verge of collapse. Coin shouldered his weight, guiding the old man to his bedroll. He felt weightless against Coin, but his constant stumbling made it an awkward journey.


    "Come on Elijah. Let''s get you to bed."


    The old man groaned as he was guided onto the plush surface of his bedding. "Thank you, my lad," Elijah sleepily grumbled.


    "Think nothing of it."


    Elijah smiled, closing his eyes. "You''re... a good lad, Ezekiel."


    Coin lifted an eyebrow. "Sir? Who are you talking to?" But the old man was already asleep, snoring and curling up into himself. The mimic sighed and made his way back to the campfire. His pack, a gift from Elijah, was resting by the smooth stone he''d been using as a seat. He fished out the tome Scylla had gifted him.


    Most nights, after Elijah retired to sleep, Coin would take the time to read a few pages from the book. And tonight, as with any other night, he found no closer to grasping the magic that coursed through him.


    The firelight flickered as he examined an illustration on one of the pages. It was the silhouette of a man, who had a shimmering light in his chest and lines encircling the outsides of his limbs. "Those with the capacity for magic draw it from Promethea, their very soul a portal to that infinitely vast place. All magic is spawned from there, and the magi are living conduits of it."


    He read the words aloud as his gaze scanned across them. He sat upright and stared into the distance, his right foot awkwardly tapping up and down. "This is meant to be for children?" he murmured.


    He read on, deciding that it was worth the potential headaches. "The human body is the most simple tool for the coordination of magical energies. The user must focus on the sensation of the magic in their heart, their personal tether to Promethea beyond the veil of time and space. If they can firmly grasp that magic, they can draw it out into their body and will it to take the shape they imagine."


    Coin closed his eyes and reached deep within himself. Sure enough, when he knew what to focus on, he felt a strange warmth deep within himself. He fixated on it, taking in shallow breaths through his nose. The mimic raised a hand, splaying his fingers outward.


    The warmth blossomed further in his chest, gradually surging toward his right hand. Power congealed in his palm, numbness tingling in his fingertips. From there he envisioned a simple spell described in the early pages of the book: An evocation of wind.


    He opened his eyes to see silvery strands of wind dancing on his palm, a tiny cyclone. Exhaling, he cast the spinning gale toward the nearby grass. It sliced several of the blades asunder, before the gust vanished entirely. Coin smirked. So, Scylla had been telling him the truth after all.


    He spent the next hour practicing, summoning that same miniature cyclone again and again until the magic blossomed with more ease. From there, Coin told himself, he''d be able to make it larger and stronger in scope. He just need to keep practicing whenever he had the free time to. But eventually he would need to fetch some meteorite metal and forge a proper catalyst to better conduct his power.


    He just needed to figure out how he''d manage that, and was cursing himself for not pocketing the wizard''s rings after trying to eat him. Too bad they''d been silver in colour, and not gold.


    Come the morning, it took some time for the two to get up and leave. Elijah''s hangover rendered him sluggish, and that remained the case even after a breakfast of honeyed porridge. But eventually he mustered the energy to mount up on his wagon, and the duo set off again.


    "I think we should take a trip up to Sentinel. Capital is rife with work, and we can do plenty of trades along the way. And we should..." Elijah winced against the glare of the morning sun as it broke through the clouds. "Damnation. Of course it''s this bright. What was I saying? Ah, right, the tailors in the capital can get you better clothing than those old threads you wear."


    Coin glanced down at his ''clothes'', then to Elijah''s attire. The gap in quality was obvious, even to the mimic. "I''d be fine with that," he replied.


    "Well, good. Can''t have my apprentice looking too shabby in the long run."


    Silence lingered between the two, interrupted only by Dancer''s chittering and the creaking of the wagon wheels. "Elijah," he eventually said, "who is Ezekiel?"


    Elijah froze, gripping the reins until his knuckles paled. He looked to Coin, sporting an expression more serious than he''d ever seen from the old man before. The pain was writ large in his eyes, something that made the mimic''s stomach twist. "Coin, please don''t ever say that name to me again."


    Coin nodded, watching the road. And that was the last word said on that topic.

 Chapter 12 - Illyana Goes Forth

    Illyana did not linger long in Wheat Valley. The life of a low-ranking Guild adventurer did not allow for much in the way of idleness. She needed to regularly take contracts, ensuring she had a stable flow of money to fall back upon.


    And, unfortunately, it was also a major component in raising her rank with the Adventurer''s Guild. How quickly one raised their rank was dependent on the difficulty of the jobs they took on, and it was tough finding jobs harder than killing goblins or kobolds pilfering crops from isolated farms.


    It was as she was considering heading up toward Sentinel, where the contracts were more difficult but also in high demand, that an important message reached the guild hall in Wheat Valley. A town to the southwest of Wheat Valley by the name of Glain, seated near the coast, apparently was being threatened by large crowds of goblins who roamed the exterior of the town in the dead of night. They hissed and chittered, always vanishing before the guards could gather to pursue them.


    They had yet to attack, by all accounts, but the people were understandably anxious. The contract stated that the number was considerable, too large for the town guard to deal with, and the nobody was willing to leave the fortifications of the town. It was only by the magic of the local hedge wizard that the contract was sent out to the neighbouring towns.


    The contract at Glain promised a high pay, with the prospect for advancement being rather high. Illyana had nearly jumped at the prospect. And, after topping up on supplies, she hitched a ride out west.


    The contingent sent out by the Adventurer''s Guild had congregated en route to Glain. Two wagons carrying an abundance of armed warriors, and a supply wagon taking up the rear. Illyana had not said much to the people who were to be her companions for the contract, but knew many of them were low-ranking guild members like herself.


    There wasn''t much in the way of adventuring talent out this way, Illyana knew. Some of the fellows seemed respectable, their gear weathered and seasoned from past exploits. Others were bored youngsters just itching for adventure. So long as they stayed out of her way, she wasn''t going to be too bothered by their presence.


    "Hey, Knife-ears," a cloaked figure to her right remarked, looking her way. "Don''t see many of your kind out this way."


    Illyana barely stirred to look at the youthful, freckled face. She kept her eyes on the rolling scenery, the crook of her elbow draping over her claymore''s crossguard. "Don''t call me that," she bluntly replied.


    Ignoring her, the young man snorted and adjusted the brim of his hood. "Woulda'' thought you lot spent all your days casting spells inside your fancy crystal palaces. Guess that means even elves can fall on hard times, ain''t that right Knife-ea-"


    The fingers of her gauntlet clasped around his throat in the blink of an eye, pinning him to the edge of the wagon. Several of the other adventurers recoiled, but the reaction was largely muted among the group. "In my culture, if someone declines a polite request to not do something, it''s entirely within your rights to be more forceful to make them compliant."


    She turned, now looking him in the eye with a glare that would make steel wilt. "So if you call me ''Knife-Ears'' or ''Dagger-Ears'', or whatever other terms you have for my species, one more time... I will break your nose." She released her grip, the human coughing and wheezing, stroking his throat.


    "Bleak''s curse... Some grip you got there. I''m glad though. Means you''re an elf who actually knows how to fight."


    "Hmph. You''ll find many of my kin know how to fight."


    His pale eyes roamed to the claymore. "Not many of ''em get their hands dirty."


    "Well, I do," Illyana replied. Only partially out of necessity, in her case. Still, while she may not have had the vast potential of her siblings, she took pride in her skill. And she''d cut down more than one arrogant spellcaster who mistakenly thought her to be infirm.


    The human grunted, flashing her a wry grin. "Well, shoot, guess this''ll be an interesting sight. You kill enough gobbos, I''ll even buy you a drink."


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    "Buy me two. You owe me that much, at least."


    "And she can banter too. Damn!" the human said, snickering and settling a thumb in his belt. "We could do with more elves like you in the world. Most of you, no offence, tend to be on the hoity-toity side."


    She looked him in the eye, stone faced against his smirking. "Now I think you''re trying to get me to punch you."


    Before he could answer, the carriage came to a sudden lurching halt. A discordant murmuring broke out among the adventurers, who glanced all about. Illyana rose from her seat, peering beyond the carriage ahead of them. They had reached the crest of a hill, leading down toward Glain.


    It was only now that she noticed the dense columns of smoke rising from the horizon. She had glimpsed traces of blackness from afar, yes, but she had assumed them to be from forges and workhouses. Glain, after all, had an active metal forging industry. But only now did she realise, her face paling, how vast the rising smoke was.


    Gripping her sword tight, she vaulted over the edge of the carriage. A few of the others joined her, moving around to get a better look at the distant horizon.


    Glain was a burned out ruin. The walls had been smashed in several places, and just about every building Illyana could see had been reduced to a blackened husk. A chill raced down the elf''s spine, her fingers gripping her claymore with renewed strength.


    She had been to Glain more than once in the past, usually a pitstop on longer journeys. It had been a nice place, populated with friendly faces, who had treated her with kindness and fairness. Now it was all gone, reduced a blackened soot-stained wound on the earth.


    But how? Goblins could be vicious, certainly, but she''d never heard of goblins being able to raze an entire town. And what could have torn holes in the wall like that? She had heard tales of goblin shamans, a particularly rare breed who could draw magic from Promethea. But a target like that surely would have been cut down by bolts.


    The hooded adventurer came to a halt beside her, a thumb still hooked into his swordbelt. "The message to the Adventurer''s Guild only came in a few days back. It''s already been destroyed?"


    "Looks like," she muttered, still trying to puzzle out how. She took a breath. "We need to go down and see what happened. The Guild will want to know."


    The driver of the wagon scoffed. "I''m not going anywhere near that," he remarked, gripping the reins of his horse. The beast whickered. "There might still be goblins down there!"


    Illyana nodded. She would have rather had a ride down, but she could make the trip on her own. She hooked her claymore to the strap on her back and made her way down. Slowly, others began to follow after her. The serious-looking professionals, at first, and then the idealistic rookies followed after more trepidation. The smell of burning human flesh killed much of their initial excitement.


    The first few bodies came into view some distance from Glain''s gate. People who had been feathered by small bolts and arrows, the telltale signs of a goblin attack. Others, curiously, had been torn asunder. By what appeared to be tusks or great claws. Certainly not what Illyana expected to find in a goblin attack.


    She inspected one body, leaning over and lifting it with her foot. "They set fire to the town, had people waiting outside to kill anyone who fled through the gates." She stared at the tracks, half-faded in the the road. Human footprints, a few clawed goblin tracks... and much larger tracks, sunken in the mud.


    "Clever, for goblins," the hooded man said. "Which makes all this even harder to believe."


    Illyana nodded, making her way toward the gates. She stared at a smashed section of the wall, and noticed something odd. Portions of the obliterated bricks were scorched. The elf inched around, gesturing with one hand toward the fractured wall and then using that hand to try and guide a line through the air toward the treeline.


    It was not hard for her to follow the trajectory from the fractured wall, making for the nearby brush. There, amidst flattened grass, she saw it: A cannon. The sight of it made her mouth run dry.


    It was every bit as big and imposing as the cannons she had seen in larger settlements, though the barrel had been modified to resemble the head of a roaring gargoyle. Goblins could steal cannons, theoretically. She would even say they were smart enough to aim and fire them. After all, they had the capacity to aim and maintain crossbows. But as she stared at the smoothly sculpted metal, and saw all the small stylistic changes that differentiated it from a standard Arcadian cannon, a grim worry crossed her mind.


    Had goblins... built this cannon?


    Everything she knew said that that was impossible. But the destroyed town behind her was a clear sign that she could not wholly rely on what she took as a given.


    Again the hooded man halted behind her. "That''s certainly not a good sign. But take a look at that," he said, gesturing to a section of warped metal at the rear of the cannon. "Little accident with the black powder, I reckon. Blew the thing asunder."


    Ilyana nodded and motioned to a tree a few paces behind the cannon. A severed green arm was embedded in the trunk. "Seems like," said the elf.


    "Hey, Varis," another voice called from the edge of the brush. "You''ll want to see this."


    The hooded man, evidently named Varis, looked to the man who had called him: A towering man in a dark surcoat and chainmail. He moved to follow the stranger, and Illyana took off after them.


    Several of the adventurers had gathered by the town''s obliterated gate, where one woman was holding a length of red cloth between her hands. When Illyana got close enough, she could see an image painted in white on the fabric: An upraised fist, bordered on both sides by shattering chains.


    "Found this hitched to a pole just beyond the gates. I think it''s... I think it''s some kind of flag," the slim woman said.


    "Goblins with a flag?" one of the men scoffed and shook his head. "Never heard the li-"


    He was cut short by a bolt thudding into his shoulder, punching through his armour and unleashing a spurt of blood. Illyana sprang forth in that same instant, drawing her claymore and swatting away two incoming bolts that flew from the inside of the town.


    The adventurers scattered, the man on the ground moaning as he clutched his injured arm. Illyana saw the figures as they emerged from behind the ruined structures, camouflaged by caked-on layers of soot and ash, each brandishing a gleaming steel weapon.


    "Goblins!" Varis cried, as a violent chorus rose from within the ruins of Glain.

 Chapter 13 - Illyana Strikes Back

    The adventurers quickly scattered as more arrows and bolts tore through the air. Not everyone was lucky enough to get away in time. Two were cut down by the salvo, and were dead before they hit the ground.


    Illyana pulled back, slicing a few incoming bolts away with uncanny speed. One of her ear''s twitched, hearing the sound of feet scraping on stone, and she looked sharply toward a pair of marksmen emerging from the top of the wall.


    Varis moved quickly, drawing a bomb and tinderbox from his belt and igniting the fuse in a fluid motion. His hurled bomb struck the wall as the two goblins took aim from their perch, the ensuing explosion sending a spray of stone and body parts into the air.


    "Get to cover!" Illyana shouted. By that point a pair of goblin pikemen were rushing her way, snarling and barking in a language that sounded like gargling gravel. As they drew nearer, she could not help but register something odd.


    Goblins, traditionally, adorned themselves in rags. If an adventurer fell against them, their armour would be stripped and repurposed into a crude recreation of plate. More than once she had seen goblins using pauldrons as breastplates, or torn chunks of leather stitched back together into crude cuirasses.


    These goblins, however, were wearing soot-stained plate that had been specifically tailored for their stunted frames. Either it was gear stolen from gnomes, or the cannon wasn''t the only thing potentially of their own design.


    Spearheads whistled toward her, but Illyana dodged and stepped around the incoming flourish. Even their attacks were more disciplined than the usual mad flailing. But Illyana''s skill won out, skewering one goblin as she broke past his guard, and booting the other away with an armoured heel before he could close the gap.


    A throwing knife caught the goblin in the throat before he could rise, and he died clutching at his bloodied neck. Illyana spun, catching a glimpse of Varis as he drew another dagger from his belt.


    By now more of the green tide had emerged from the village, closing the gap while receiving cover fire from the goblins deeper inside the town. "Goblins using tactics?" Illyana breathlessly asked.


    Usually, goblins had but two tactics: ''Stick the pointy bit in your enemy'' and ''keep sticking the pointy bit in your enemy until they stop moving.''


    The exterior of Glain quickly became a miniature battlefield, groups of adventurers cloistering together to fend off angry goblins. Those with ranged weapons made for the treeline, taking up cover and trading shots with their goblin counterparts. Every once in a while Illyana would hear a pained curse from a human, or what was presumably a similar curse in the goblin tongue, and the number of flying bolts gradually shrank.


    Illyana cleaved one attacker in twain while Varis, a few paces ahead of her, decapitated another of the marauders. Blood was seeping through the fabric over his right shoulder, yet the elf count not recall when he had received that wound.


    A horrid shrieking sound echoed from somewhere within Glain, followed by hoofbeats like distant thunder. Illyana braced, sweat glistening on her pale brow, A dire boar, as large as an ox, raced through the remnants of the town gates, mounted by a goblin who carried a sword longer than his whole body.


    The black-furred beast, bristling and snorting, was adorned in armoured plates on his harness. A plate of metal was atop his head, with gaps big enough for his sloping tusks to poke through.


    The elf braced herself and took a breath. In an instant, strength and vitality surged through her body with newfound intensity. She spoke a mantra in her mind, the words resonating through every nerve in her body: Be the leaf in the eye of a hurricane.


    The rider raced toward a group of adventurers, mowing a few of them down with a sweep of his blade, while others were gored or trampled by the charging boar. The rider hooted and hollered, and whatever he was saying he was clearly doing so in what could only be described as a mocking tone.


    Varis downed another goblin, wrenching a billhook from the creature''s severed chest. "Might be out of our depth here," he huffed, backing toward Illyana. "And there may be more of those bastards lurking in town. We oughta get out of here, now!"


    "Easier said than done," she muttered, glancing to the hill. The wagons had already taken their leave, moving further down hill. "We won''t get anywhere while that boar is still around. He''ll ride us down before we can get very far."


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    "Think you can kill it?" Varis grinned playfully. "You know, just to prove you''re not all bluster."


    Illyana grunted, raising her claymore into a hanging stance. "In theory? I can kill anything that bleeds. But with that big bastard? I''ll need a little bit of luck," the elf explained.


    "Can''t promise you luck. But if you distract it a little bit, I can make things a little easier for you." He pulled a small vial from his belt as he spoke, containing a viscous purple liquid that was undeniable poisonous in some way. Illyana nodded.


    The rider rounded his mount toward them, howling and kicking his heels to the boar. The creature charged at Illyana, beady black eyes locked onto her and shining with baleful hate. A few bolts protruded from unarmoured parts of the beast''s body, yet he scarcely seemed to notice.


    Illyana braced herself for what was to come, the creature charging her way faster than a galloping steed. She sidestepped the incoming rush, only barely avoiding being gored by the protruding tusks. The edge of her blade bit into a hindleg, a ribbon of blood arcing from the fresh wound. The dire boar shrieked, a noise near deafening in volume, but twisted toward her with little issue.


    The boar''s side slammed into her, shunting Illyana off her feet. Her body crashed into a large stone by the brush, cracking the rock on impact and knocking the air from her lungs. The blonde grit her teeth, squeezing her blade tighter. Blackness swam at the edge of her vision.


    An inarticulate sneering sound hit her ear, the boar rider hissing as he aimed his great blade her way. Again the boar charged at her, but the blonde hastily dodged the tusks as they smashed the stone into a fine powder. Her claymore met the goblin''s sword mid-swing, the impact releasing a flash of sparks.


    The echoing clashes of their swords filled the air. From the corner of her eye, Illyana could glimpse the remaining adventurers dealing with the last stragglers coming from the village. But they were in no hurry to try their luck against the dire boar.


    The goblin''s sword swept toward her face. Illyana jerked back, the sharpened tip only barely grazing her cheek and eliciting a trickle of rose-hued blood. The goblin cackled, evidently pleased.


    A heavy thwacking sound echoed through the woods, the boar shrieking as Varis'' billhook bit into the beast''s hindlegs. Whatever it was coated with sent the boar into a frothing, shrieking rage. He bucked and thrashed about, so violently that the rider tried to hang onto the reins for dear life. Yet, ultimately, he was flung from his saddle and gifted a broken neck when he met the ground.


    The sweeping head of the boar slammed into Illyana, her breastplate absorbing the brunt of the impact. Yet her ribs ached, and the pain tripled in intensity as her body slammed into the trunk of a neighbouring tree. Some of the gnarled roots popped from their moorings.


    More snarling snorts filled the air, punctuated by stomping hooves that shook the ground as the boar''s bulk barrelled toward her. Illyana took a breath, clenching her teeth tightly. Strength pulsed through her body, dulling the pain in her body, and giving her enough sharpness to jump away from the incoming charge. The boar''s head smashed into the tree with such force that it was entirely torn from the earth, the trunk dented inward.


    Illyana seized the opportunity and thrust forth, aiming for a gap in the boar''s armour. Frankly, the metal felt excessive with how dense his skin and muscles were. Yet she pressed on, muscles ignited with augmented strength born from an iron will. Blood sprayed and gushed through the gaps in the armour.


    A sudden and harsh jerk from the beast bucked Illyana off her feet, her armoured heels skidding in the mud and forcing her blade free. The dire boar rounded on her, sluggish. By now he was frothing at the mouth.


    Yet, as the creature advanced on her, it suddenly tripped and fell to the ground. It did not rise again, shrieking and snorting for several seconds until it died a shuddering death. Illyana stared at it, waiting to see so much as a twitch from it. But it was like an overturned statue now, motionless. Blood dripped steadily from her claymore.


    "What Bleak-cursed substance was on that knife?"


    Varis approached her side, his posture stooping. "Manticore venom. Not cheap, I assure you, but worth it. The amount I put on my billhook would''ve had a man screaming and clawing his eyes out in ten seconds flat from the pain. Took more to kill that slobbering creature."


    Illyana nodded, leaning against a tree. The pain in her body returned with greater intensity, where it hurt to even breathe. "My thanks. Won''t spurn someone who helped save my life," she huffed.


    "Ah, well, it was nice to see how tough you are. Definitely killed a lot of stereotypes I had toward elves." He huffed, carefully wiping his blade clean with a cloth. "For someone without magic, you move pretty damn fast. And soaked up plenty of punishment, even with your armour."


    Illyana didn''t answer him. She flicked the blood from her sword and advanced toward the entrance of Glain. Everything had fallen silent. She had to assume, or hope, that only a small detachment of the goblins had lingered in town. Either drunkenly celebrating their victory, or waiting to see who would investigate their handiwork so they could claim a few extra victims.


    The area was littered with the corpses of goblins, and several fallen adventurers. Mostly the naive youngsters, who had come to a rather abrupt death in the face of reality. Illyana frowned. Poor kids. They hadn''t deserved this. Those who remained were milling about, tending to the wounded.


    "What even happened here?" she asked in a low murmur, staring to the smoking remnants of Glain. The goblins had gone from a nuisance to a trained and well-armed militia, wiping this entire settlement away in much the same way adventurers had done to goblin hovels in the past. But how in Azsoi''s name had they made such a dramatic leap? How had they gotten hold of such refined equipment? Something like this... something like this couldn''t just be an isolated incident.


    A horrid, retching noise hit her ear. Illyana turned to the source, and soon caught sight of a lone and mangled goblin in the mud. He looked up at her with his one remaining eye, burning with a focused and deliberate hatred she had never seen before in a goblin. And though he was dying, defiance was writ large in her face. It was hard to read the emotions of that angular, misshapen face, but Illyana knew pride when she saw it.


    "We..." the goblin hissed, gargling on his own blood. Looking closer, she could see a deep gash in his chest. "We take... we take your homes." A goblin speaking common tongue? What sort of goblin knew how to speak common?


    The creature died then and there. Illyana did not move, did not look away, a chill racing down the length of her body. And now she was left with more questions and fears than she''d ever had before in her life.

 Chapter 14 - A Stray Creature

    The roads up to Sentinel took Coin and Elijah through many independent farms. The old man did his usual routine of making deals with every building they stopped at, helping to keep them afloat in terms of supplies. Whenever they couldn''t secure a roof over their heads for the night, they simply slept in nature.


    Generally, the road was peaceful. More than once Coin had had to chase off wolves or shadowcats, but it was nothing he couldn''t handle. And he appreciated getting the occasional snack from the engagements. Elijah seemed content to have Coin serving as both a bodyguard and apprentice, and kept his lessons going in the meantime.


    At night Coin maintained his practice of magic, gradually refining the ability to summon wind and electricity at a thought. But the learning was slow going, and it would be some time before he could reliably call upon it in a fight. That made him all the more grateful for the calmness on the roads.


    The sun was making a steady descent as they travelled along the roads. They had passed the last trace of civilization, a farmhouse that had sold Elijah a handsome supply of cotton, some hours ago. Nothing else was on the horizon but rolling hills and verdant peaks.


    Elijah grunted, sinking into the bench of the driver''s seat. "I suppose we should consider setting up camp soon. I doubt we''ll find a place to board at before the darkness sets in."


    Coin nodded. "How are we for food?"


    "We''ll get by for now. Oh! But the River Olithe isn''t too far from here, we should reach a bend sometime tomorrow. Wonderful region for a spot of fishing."


    Coin stared at him, fighting hard to not ask what ''fishing'' was for fear of giving himself away. But it sounded like a way to procure food, so the mimic wouldn''t complain.


    "Have you ever fished?" Elijah asked.


    "I... can''t say that I have." In the temple, you''d struggle to find a body of water bigger than a puddle. Which most fishermen would consider less than optimal.


    The old man chuckled, stroking one end of his moustache. "Something else for me to teach you, then. And I''ll have to be sure to tell you what fish are actually safe to eat. As it happens, Sentinel was built close to the Olithe. We''re getting close to our destination."


    Coin smiled. "Good to know. I''ll admit, I''m excited to see what kind of deals you can pull there."


    "Hoho! I''ll try not to disappoint, in that case." As they travelled, Elijah''s gaze travelled to the slopes that bordered the road. Some of them grew tall, speckled with craggy rocks that cast jagged shadows in the sunlight. "We had best be careful, all the same. No way to know what could be lurking around these parts."


    "Is this spot... dangerous?" Coin asked.


    Elijah considered the question, briefly pursing his lips. "The region has had issues in the past. Bandit camps and the like. Well, some years back, the worst of them were cleared away. If highwaymen steal too much in a region, you see, it causes harm to the economy. Rulers can abide harm to people, but they certainly can''t abide harm to the economy. And the criminals here pushed their luck too hard, relishing in the hiding spots this scenery gave them."


    Coin scanned their surroundings, looking to the looming peaks. He supposed it was a good spot for an ambush, where attackers could see travellers coming well in advance and then lie in wait atop the crags. And he knew, from experience, that the high ground was a great advantage for any marksman. He''d been plinked in the lid plenty of times by archers from on high.


    "Should we be... worried?" Coin asked, frowning.


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    "I''m not."


    And that was that.


    They set up camp at the base of a hill, flanked by tall trees. The campfire illuminated them, casting a broad orange glow. From where he sat, atop an empty crate that had previously carried a few lengths of linen, Coin had enough of a vantage point to see anyone approaching from afar.


    Dinner was a simple affair, a diced vegetable stew created with some gifts they''d been given from one of the farms they passed. Coin wasn''t a fan. If it didn''t have meat, he didn''t want to know about it. But Elijah had insisted it was good for him, so the mimic had grimaced and gulped it down.


    It was, admittedly, not awful.


    After Elijah went to bed, Coin had sat up by the slowly dying fire. His eyes were half lidded, the mimic twirling the fingers of his right hand to summon dancing sparks. His skill had improved, he noted in the back of his mind. Each attempt made the power flow easier than the last.


    Was he the first mimic in history to tap into magic? It felt like a strong possibility in his mind. But as he considered this, his tired eyes roamed toward his sleeping mentor. He was keeping his share of secrets from Elijah, and the thought of that sent a small pang of guilt racing through his body.


    But what was he to do? Elijah was a good man, the first human he had ever liked and trusted, but would he accept Coin if he knew the truth? Would anyone? He was a mimic that could talk and think, yes, but undoubtedly he would still be a mimic in the eyes of anyone who knew the truth.


    They''d kill him, he was sure of it. Or, if not kill him, his unique nature would make him a topic of study. That one actually seemed the worse option in his mind, making him grit his teeth. He liked his freedom. Having it taken away? The very notion sent a chill through Coin''s body.


    He wanted to be honest. He couldn''t bring himself to be.


    After some more time spent contemplating his situation, Coin closed his eyes. His sleep was light and fretful, his body going as still as a statue.


    But in that light, uneasy sleep, a footstep stirred at the edge of camp. A quiet thing, something normal human ears would not have picked up on. But Coin heard the touch of bare feet on dirt, and the faint rustling of the tall grass.


    The mimic sat firm, not wanting to reveal his alertness to whoever or whatever was venturing their way. An eyeball opened on the cuff of Coin''s boot, coloured to resemble the texture of leather. Just as he had in the past, he could be perfectly alert while giving the impression he was totally inert.


    Sure enough, a silhouette was inching into the boundaries of their camp. Short and stooping, adorned in a ragged cloak that concealed them from head to heel. Their head scanned about, checking for any sign of movement. Then, quietly, they made for a bag of provisions and opened them.


    Coin sprang upright in a quick flourish, causing the stranger to spin around and gasp. They gripped the sack tight and bolted, while the sudden rush of footstep stirred Elijah from his slumber. "Eh? W-what?!" he asked aloud, his head darting around.


    Coin ignored him, racing after the stranger as they dashed into the tall grass. The figure, while short, was quite quick on their feet. Certainly faster than any adventurer he''d had to chase down in the past.


    But the mimic was undaunted. He grit his teeth, willing strength and vigour into his legs that propelled him forward at a rising speed. Even so, the hooded figure kept a modest distance ahead of him. In the moonglow, he caught glimpses of a steel sliver on the stranger''s hip. A knife that they were in no hurry to draw.


    Thinking quickly, Coin thrust his hands toward the ground and summoned a twinned gale from both palms. It slammed into the earth behind him, lifting and propelling him at great speed. He struck the fleeing thief from behind, both figures landing and rolling in a grapple that the hooded figure could not escape from. She tried to recover, but a length of flesh protruding from Coin''s heel tripped her before her feet could find purchase.


    Still, the stranger was strong and determined, writhing in Coin''s grasp like a wild animal. But Coin''s grip held firm, the muscles in his arms growing larger and stronger. Even his weight grew more pronounced, pinning the thief as Coin gripped them by the scruff.


    Coin raised his free hand, balling it into a fist loaded with enough strength to smash a person''s skull like an eggshell. The stranger''s hood fell away, revealing two beady dark eyes and a sloping rodent-face covered in shaggy brown fur. Terror was writ large in her youthful features, eyes unblinking as they focused on Coin''s fist. "P-please," she whined. "Please, no harm!"


    The mimic stared down at her. He had only fleeting memories of ever seeing a creature like her before, before the goblins in the temple had done away with her ilk: A kobold.


    As he stared into those panicked eyes, heard the rapid beating of her heart, Coin found himself he could not bring himself to land a blow. Kobolds weren''t as vicious as goblins. That was why they hadn''t survived the onslaught.


    She didn''t attack him, so he didn''t bring himself to attack her.


    Elijah came racing up to the two, puffing and red-faced. "G-good grief! Was that magic you just used?"


    Coin nodded stiffly, not looking away from the terrified thief. Who, increasingly, seemed bewildered by the fact that her head was still in one piece.


    "You are... truly full of surprises, my lad," he murmured, before glancing to the kobold. "So... a thief in the night eh? Let her go. Thieving isn''t a death sentence. And she seems more afraid of us than we are of her. Suppose I shouldn''t be surprised to see a kobold near here."


    Coin slowly got off of the young woman, who let out a shaky breath of relief. He offered a hand to her, which she reluctantly took to help herself up. Her thin pink tail unfurled behind her, swishing behind her.


    "Come along then," Elijah said, sleepily motioning back toward the direction of their camp. "If you need food so badly, you might as well do it seated somewhere comfortable. Do you have a name, lass?"


    The kobold blinked in confusion, twitching her whiskers. "This one is called Essine."

 Chapter 15 - Feed the Stray

    Elijah gave Essine a head of lettuce, and was about to fetch something else from the bag for her until the kobold began tearing it apart leaf by leaf with swift bites. Coin had sat back to watch, wide eyed, as she clutched the leafy vegetable in her clawed fingers and devoured it.


    Hard to believe a vegetable could get someone so impassioned.


    When she had finished, which did not take long at all, Elijah cleared his throat to get her attention. "I take it you enjoyed that?" he asked.


    The kobold''s ears flattened against the sides of her head, and one could just about see her blushing under her fur. "Thank you," she replied in a low voice.


    Elijah nodded. "Must''ve been quite starving. I see why you were in such a rush to steal from us. And I must appreciate your discretion in not killing us while we slept."


    "Th-this one would never!" the kobold replied, her fur bristling from how aghast she was.


    "Well, you certainly had a clear opportunity to if you wanted to. And a weapon for it," he said, glancing to her knife.


    "That is... a keepsake. A gift from someone who was once dear to this one," Essine replied. She spoke softly, each syllable carefully assembled. "This one has never had cause to harm another. But hunger drives desperation."


    Well, Coin certainly knew that feeling. There had been long periods back in the temple where no adventurers would come by, and he had to make do with whatever he could scrounge up.


    "This one apologises for her theft. Truly." She still seemed surprised they had shown her any mercy at all, but her tense posture made it clear she would bolt at any moment.


    Coin turned to his mentor. "I''m... surprised you''re so open-minded toward a kobold."


    "I have no qualms with their ilk, not like others do. Goblins are vicious and mean, but kobolds? They''re just an unfortunate, downtrodden sort." He fished a carrot from the bag and tossed it to Essine, who devoured it with the same fervour she''d had for the lettuce. "Nothing to be gained from mistreating a lass like her."


    Coin examined the rodent-shaped woman, who was downright beaming with joy as she ate. She stood just shy of his shoulder height, and she seemed to be an adult by the standards of her species. Certainly, he had vague memories of seeing what passed for children among the rat-like people, being about knee-high.


    "This one... has no gold with which to thank you," she murmured, gesturing to the empty pockets stitched to her tunic.


    "Well..." Elijah glanced to the sky, a look of contemplation on his wrinkled face. "Do you have any talents?"


    "Talents?" she repeated, as if offered a foreign food she''d never heard of before. The kobold considered the question, her ears twitching. "This one... can cook?" she suggested.


    "You can?" Coin asked, perking up.


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    Essine nodded. "Mother was a good teacher. Resources in our cave were scarce but we... the recipes were good."


    "How about this then? You travel with us, do some cooking, and we consider it a mutually beneficial arrangement? You''ll get to eat while you''re with us, provided you don''t overdo it, and we''ll give you a safe spot to sleep. I... assume you are currently without a home?"


    The kobold glanced away. "This is true," she reluctantly admitted. Indeed, the dirt in her tunic and fur gave her away in that regard.


    Coin was surprised Elijah was so open to helping her out, even inviting her into their camp. But, he thought, he wouldn''t judge her for her species. He hardly had the right to. "As long as you don''t try to steal from us again, I guess it''s fine." And while Elijah was a talented man with a decent taste in food, he wouldn''t mind seeing what someone else could cook.


    "This one will... refrain. And thanks you for your kindness."


    Elijah smiled and clapped his hands, as Essine tossed the stem of the eaten carrot into the ashes of their faded fire. "Wonderful, wonderful. We, unfortunately, don''t have a bedroll to spare. But we have a few lengths of cloth you can use as makeshift bedding. Next place we stop at, we''ll get you one."


    The statement left Essine frozen in place, blinking in confusion at the two men. "You would... do that?"


    "I don''t play favourites, and it would hardly be fair to leave you without one so long as you''re with us."


    "This... this one... does not know what to say," she whispered, a wetness glistening in her eyes. Was it the first time a human had ever showed her kindness? The prospect was as depressing as it was unsurprising.


    Elijah shrugged, still smiling. "Then don''t say anything, lass, and just be content with what you''ve been given. I''d say you deserve to feel comfortable for once."


    She fell silent, fretting with the frayed hem of her tunic. "This one does need to make amends for trying to steal from you. So this arrangement is agreeable. But you are...truly comfortable sharing space with a kobold? Humans tend to spurn and distrust this one. That was why... theft was preferable to negotiation."


    Her eyes shifted to Coin for a fraction of a second. She had been certain of her own sneakiness, and seemed to be trying to puzzle out how a human had picked up on her approach so readily. Indeed, a normal man wouldn''t have been roused by her footsteps. "I don''t mind. Especially if he''s fine with it," Coin said, motioning to Elijah. He would trust the old man''s judgement, as ever. And if Essine tried to get tricky or deceive them, he''d deal with the problem as needed.


    "I certainly am fine with it. Lady Essine, you can call me Elijah. Very delighted to properly meet you."


    "And I''m Coin. Sorry for tackling you." He, admittedly, may have gone a little overboard in halting her. But she carried no visible injuries, and he''d fortunately stayed his hand before actually landing a blow on her. The more he thought about it, the worse he would have felt about actually hurting her.


    "It is alright. You cannot be faulted for assuming this one to be a dangerous criminal," the kobold said, slowly raising her hands. Her eyes met Coin''s. "You are... very fast, for a human."


    Nodding, Elijah rose to his feet and motioned to the wagon. "Now, be sure to get some rest. I''d say we''re all over due for it by now," the merchant said, taking a moment to fix moustache. The two men sat idle as Essine retrieved the makeshift blanket she would be using, Elijah turned to Coin. "You kept your magic under your hat."


    Coin frowned and looked away. "Only found out I had magic at all after meeting the witch in Wheat Valley. Never knew about it before that point."


    "Lad," Elijah said, folding his arms. "Something like this? It''s quite a thing to keep to yourself."


    The mimic''s frown only grew deeper. The old man didn''t even know the half of it. "I didn''t think it was worth mentioning until I had a better understanding of it. I can barely do the most fundamental tricks of my own magic," he explained.


    "And you don''t have any promethium, I can see that much. Well, I suppose we''ll have to rectify that." Elijah hummed, rubbing his chin with his right hand. "Meteorite metal is rare, and expensive. I suppose we have two options. Firstly we can hope for a meteor shower to happen soon. Slim odds, those things are impossible to predict. Or we press on toward Sentinel. You can buy just about anything there, after all."


    "You''re... willing to help me with magic too?" Coin asked.


    The old man shrugged, slowly making for his bedroll. "I don''t have a head for spells and the like. But..." He turned and smiled warmly, a glint of moonlight hitting his teeth in the darkness. "I want to help you reach your full potential. You''re my apprentice after all."


    Coin rose to his feet and slowly stalked toward his own bedding. "Then, I guess I''ll have to try my best not to disappoint."


    Still, a pang of guilt briefly filled his heart. He had one more secret that he was keeping from the old man, and though he was tempted to be entirely honest... the night had been eventful enough without hitting him with another sucker punch. But if he was so open to travelling with a kobold, then perhaps Elijah would be just as fine travelling with a mimic.

 Chapter 16 - Mice and Hornets

    The group took to the road again soon after daybreak. Essine had taken a seat in the rear of the wagon, and soon the noise of the rumbling wheels was joined by the faint snoring of the kobold. Coin turned to watch her, just to be sure she was indeed still asleep.


    "If we bring her with us into human towns, will she truly be... fine?" he asked, giving Elijah a curious look.


    "If she keeps her hood up and doesn''t draw any attention, there shouldn''t be any issues. Yes, I see that worry on your face, you needn''t worry. Kobolds aren''t exactly loved by commonfolk, particularly in more rural stretches, but they get treated a damn sight better than goblins do."


    Coin frowned, turning and facing toward the road. "How''s that?" he asked, eventually.


    "Well..." Elijah hummed, groping for the right words to use. He reached up, tugging the collar of his shirt against the balmy heat of the morning. "Humans don''t love kobolds, of course, but they don''t inspire the same hate as goblins do, or the same fear as ogres. Of all the ''monstrous'' races, they tend to generate a more neutral reaction than most. People are more inclined to tolerate them is what I mean. In the larger cities you''ll even see kobolds living there. In the sewers, middens, and slums, mostly. But, still, they are allowed to live somewhat within the confines of society. More than can be said for others."


    He glanced to the horizon, his wrinkled brow furrowing. "You still have those who hurt and mistreat kobolds, but it''s not a consistent thing," he added. The old man didn''t sound too happy.


    "But... why make the distinction? I''m surprised people in Arcadia will live with kobolds at all if they''re ultimately fine with killing them." The more thought he gave it, the stranger it seemed.


    "Think of it this way. Kobolds are like... an infestation of mice, in the eyes of humans. An inconvenience, certainly, but something that some will overlook as long as the mice don''t get too cheeky or messy. Goblins, on the other hand, are like an infestation of hornets. Violent, unpredictable, and certain to make life very difficult if the infestation isn''t dealt with quickly. There are those who can tolerate mice. Nobody can tolerate hornets."


    So that was it. The kobolds weren''t seen as much of a threat, if at all. Life and its cruelties had left the kobolds trodden underfoot, and they seemed to simply tolerate whatever was done to them. But the goblins were as defiant and brutal now as they had been centuries ago. Each kick they took was simply added to the ever-growing pile of grudges.


    "I''ve travelled across the length and breadth of Arcadia. Been to the isles off the western coast, even did plenty of deals in the lands of Eldergard and Veskland out further east. So, believe me when I say I''ve seen plenty about how people treat the likes of kobolds," Elijah explained, motioning to the air around them. "One time I was sitting in a tavern when one of the local lads came in, saying that a kobold burrow had been spotted nearby, a modest walk from the outskirts of the settlement. He said it conversationally, like he was just talking about the weather. And the others muttered and groused into their drinks, but ultimately they seemed fine with it as long as they didn''t bother anyone."


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    Coin nodded. "That''s some kind of acceptance, I suppose."


    "And then a few months later I was in a different town, taking in a nightly drink. One of the locals barged in, all red-faced, and said a goblin burrow had been spotted a short distance from the outskirts. Without any hesitation, just about every other local got up and grabbed anything they had in the way of weapons. They marched to the local Adventurer''s Guild to commission them to take care of it. And that was that. There are those who can tolerate mice, but nobody can tolerate hornets," he repeated.


    Silence lingered between the two men. Essine was still fast asleep, huddled in the fabric Elijah had offered her. "We''ll have to keep an eye on her. Just in case," Coin eventually said.


    He thought back to the terror in her eyes as he loomed over her last night. It had been fear mixed with what he could only call a sense of... resignation. She had believed, truly, that she was about to die at his hand. That kind of fear had to have been deeply rooted in her mind. And Coin had no doubt that the kobold had suffered immensely in the past.


    "Might get a few queer looks, humans travelling with a kobold. But, on the other hand, I''m too old and too rich to care about what other people think," said Elijah, chuckling. "But it would be prudent for us to be watchful. Most folks are indifferent or annoyed by kobolds, but a few folk may get violent to see humans consorting with one."


    "Well, let them think what they want. But if they cause us any trouble," Coin clenched his fists with a strength that could crush stone into powder. "Well, they won''t like the end results."


    From his understanding, humans frowned on random killing. But if they gave him cause to get violent, it would be perfectly acceptable for him to respond in kind.


    A strange quirk of civilization. If someone, in broad daylight, thwacked Essine''s head from her shoulders... it would likely be seen as acceptable. Some witnesses would grouse and complain about it being a touch rude, or moan about blood being splashed about, but ultimately few humans would care overmuch to see a kobold killed before their eyes.


    Meanwhile if Coin did the same thing to a human, that would have been a horrible crime. Conversely if he went around as a slobbering treasure chest, no matter how eloquently he spoke, it would be perfectly fine for humans to stick him like a pig. Now there was a thought that made him uneasy.


    He spared a glance over his shoulder at the still-sleeping girl. "Not very fair at all," he noted, speaking almost inaudibly.


    Well, it was another thing for him to look after. He''d keep the kobold safe for as long as she was with them, it seemed the right thing to do and it would certainly be a headache if anyone thought they could hassle his group and get away with it. And the idea of someone killing her just made Coin feel... bad.


    But, as ever, his main focus was on making money. Lining his pockets, being so weighted with ducats that he''d struggle to even walk. As that thought crossed his mind, he focused back on the road.


    "How much longer until we get to Sentinel?" Coin asked.


    Elijah considered this, for several moments, before fishing a dogeared journal from the inside of his jacket. He flicked through a few of the worn, yellow pages, before one unfurled to reveal a faded map. It encompassed a vast swathe of land, and when Coin peered over he could see that it covered the entirety of Arcadia, all the way to the mountainous borders with Eldergard and Kambor.


    "Let''s see, if Wheat Valley is here," he traced a line with his gnarled finger, "and we went through here, here, and here... Assuming there are no interruptions on the road? Another three days or thereabouts."


    "And then we can really start making money?" Coin asked, grinning at the prospect.


    "Oh yes, my lad," Elijah replied with a hearty chuckle. "We''ll need to make a stop at the Mercantile Guild in Sentinel, make a record of our recent transactions. Not worth much for raising your rank, but everyone has to start somewhere, and so far you''re doing far better than most other rookies. And in Sentinel, my lad, you''ll get your first real taste of success."


    So, filled with renewed excitement and a previously unknown sense of anxiety, they rode onward to Sentinel.

 Chapter 17 - Close to Sentinel

    They saw Sentinel well in advance, the city cutting a massive figure on the horizon that made Wheat Valley look like an insignificant patch of dirt in comparison. The outer walls, made from sand-hued bricks, were colossal and spread out for a considerable distance. Even from afar, Coin had been able to see an abundance of great weapons positioned atop certain towers and turrets. Fields of arable land lay beyond, with smaller clusters of buildings dotted about.


    From on high they had seen a sea of buildings of varying sizes. The vast majority were modest structures, houses and stores akin to those in Wheat Valley. But much greater in number. Yet more than a few buildings were quite larger, bigger even than the guild hall had been.


    The largest structure, by far, was the massive white spire that stood near the heart of the city. It loomed high above every other building, near as tall as the walls that bordered the city. Elijah said it was officially known as the Grand Imperial Palace. Unofficially, nearly everyone else called it the Obelisk.


    As the group travelled nearer, Elijah trailed off into describing the history of Sentinel. The story of Sentinel was, in itself, the story of Arcadia as a whole, essentially the birthplace of the kingdom.


    According to ancient legend, he had said, Old King Sentinel was a divine ruler sent by the old gods to bring their holy word to the land of Arcadia. He had sailed at the head of a host of 500 ships, astride a rainbow bridge that ferried them from the land of the gods. A chosen champion, fostered in the womb of the goddess of war, who would destroy the false idols who had taken root in the land.


    From there, he had conquered the heathen barbarian clans one by one, uniting each one in turn under his banner. Until, eventually, Sentinel had consolidated power over the entirety of Arcadia. The ancient tales never explained why his holy mission never expanded into Eldergard to the east, or detailed the many failed invasions repelled by that neighbouring land, but ancient tales of heroism would be rendered far less heroic if the failures were recorded so vividly.


    Sentinel was still spoken of with reverence, the greatest hero of Arcadian history. Just about every kingdom had at least one ancient legend of his calibre, the ''true king'' that every other monarch lived in the shadow of.


    The reality of Sentinel''s life was much more mundane, as is often the case with reality. Elijah had explained that Sentinel had indeed been a real man, and that he had indeed conquered and united Arcadia centuries ago. But rather that cross the sea on a rainbow bridge, he had merely hailed from the isles off Arcadia''s northern coasts.


    And after becoming the king of the coastal reavers, he had simply decided to keep going to see how many men he could unite under his banner. He had certainly been astute as a warrior and tactician, and had doubtless come to relish in his own deification as his legend grew.


    But said legend, quick to speak of him as the literal avatar of the divine, glossed over the countless massacres and atrocities he had used to forge the building blocks of his kingdom. That, too, was something common in many kingdoms.


    "Well, Sentinel''s family reigned for several centuries. Quite a long lineage, as far as dynasties go. But they collapsed eventually, as all dynasties eventually do." He looked over his shoulder at Essine, who was watching him with rapt attention from her seat in the back of the wagon.


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    "What happened?" the kobold asked, her whiskers twitching. "This one, she has never been able to learn much about the kingdom. Humans are rarely... giving me information."


    "Then I''m going to be the one to change that," he said, turning to face forward. Coin, similarly, was listening intently. But he kept his gaze on the road, wanting to act aloof as if he already knew the finer details of Elijah''s tale.


    "Now, where was I? Ah. Well, a few years back the country was embroiled in a rebellion of sorts. King Sirian was... a mad bastard, to put it politely. Few generations of inbreeding has that effect, no matter how divine your bloodline supposedly is. And eventually that madness got to the point that nobody in Arcadia could stick it. Civil war is always bloody business, worse than a war between nations on an emotional level. And the battle for Sentinel was a true nightmare to live through."


    "You... were there?" Coin asked, genuinely surprised.


    "Not near the front line or anything like that, but I had been in the city when the chaos truly began to unfurl. I never was one for fighting, you know," he admitted, a sad smile appearing on his face. "Nobody is entirely clear on who actually did Sirian in, and there''s about a dozen different songs giving different accounts of how it happened. Regardless, Sirian''s old adviser, Velasco, took the reins of the land and became the Archchancellor. There are folks that say being ruled by someone other than a king or emperor is unnatural. But I have seen what kings can do, and gladly welcome the change."


    "Archchancellor," Coin repeated, rolling the weighty syllables on his tongue. He thought back on some of the stories he had heard eavesdropping on adventurers. And, as he thought back, he could recall more than a few tales about how awful the king was supposed to have been.


    It was odd, Coin thought, how humans gave absolute power to individuals who could go as mad as a drunken goblin. But, in order to get anything done, he supposed someone had to be in charge. Even goblins had rulers. Usually it was the largest goblin who could punch the hardest. Or a lady goblin who could skin the bark off a tree with harsh words alone.


    Wordlessly, he reached into a bag at his hips and tossed a few chunks of meat ahead into the road. Dancer''s probing tongue scooped each offering up in passing.


    From where he sat, their wagon slowly rolling downhill, he could see the myriad of roads that spread out from the various gates of the city like a system of veins and arteries. And when he strained his vision just enough he could make out the line of the river. Fog was slowly rolling in from the horizon, mingling with columns of smoke being belched from Sentinel''s industrial quarter.


    The city only grew larger as they moved closer, and Coin found it impossible to even conceptualize the scale in his mind''s eye. Wheat Valley had already eclipsed the old temple in size, and he felt one could stuff three Wheat Valleys into those walls and still have plenty of room to spare.


    Essine jolted where she sat, her ears flattening against the sides of her head. "I... I can hear something up ahead. Sounds like fighting."


    Coin stirred and sat upright, straining his ears. Sure enough he could hear shouts, the same harsh language used by the goblins, and the thwanging of bowstrings. The road ahead grew winding and serpentine, flanked by bushes and trees that made it hard to tell what lay ahead. Elijah frowned. "I don''t think I can hear much of anything," the old man murmured. "But then again my hearing has gotten rather poor of late."


    "Maybe halt here for a bit," Coin murmured, rising to stand. "Think there''s goblins or something causing trouble down that way. You stay here, I''ll check." He decided not to mention that he too had heard some worrying sounds ahead. He would have seemed less... human if he did.


    Elijah gave the reins a tug, and Dancer''s many legs halted their movements abruptly. "If you''re sure. Essine, lass, keep low. Oh, but first, fetch me one of those swords from the container beside you. Picked those up before we met you, though I was hoping we wouldn''t need to use them."


    Essine lifted one of the swords in her trembling claws, and Coin gently took it from her grasp. He slid the blade from its sheath, and in the hazy sunlight it faintly glinted. Having had his fair share of swords jammed into him over the years, he could tell these weren''t high end blades. Likely would have snapped against his hide back in the old days. But they were likely as good as a person could get in a backwater village. In most places the quality of steel and iron reached the lofty height of ''take what you can get.''


    Fortunately, Coin could get by just fine with his bare hands. He donned the belt all the same, gripping the handle. Elijah halted him with a hand on his shoulder before the mimic could disembark.


    "Try to avoid a fight if you can help it. Whatever is ahead, it could be rather dangerous," the old man firmly told him. "But if there are goblins blocking our way, they need to be taken care of. I have faith in you, my lad."


    Coin gave the older man a nod. He hopped from the wagon, pat the top of Dancer''s head in passing, and pressed on toward the noises of snarling and swinging steel.

 Chapter 18 - Elven Chancellor Fiodor

    As soon as Coin was certain he was out of sight, moving through the trees and bushes on the roadside, he warped his body out of his human disguise. His sword and belt twisted around toward his back while the rest of Coin''s flesh shifted into a long-limbed mass of stony grey biomass. A form that allowed him to blend into the murk of nature, and move with greater speed. He scurried with inhuman quickness, darting from point to point and keeping low to the ground. The sword was now hitched to the mimic''s back, while his cache of gold coins slid toward a pouch in his gut.


    He moved among the larger stones left in the dirt, overgrown with lichen, and used them for cover as he tried to get a better look at the commotion ahead.


    He warped his flesh again, two eyes morphing into six glistening orange orbs. Veins and nerves pulsed through Coin''s warping flesh, amplifying the strength of his vision. From where he crouched, he was able to catch a glimpse of short armoured figures who were greener than the leaves on the trees, rushing too and fro among the brush.


    "Goblins," he muttered, his mouth a jagged slit that gave a hint at the pointed fangs within. More than ten of them by his estimation, many of them carrying bows while others were clutching shields and blades. But, unlike the goblins Coin was used to, these ones were adorned in well-fitting plates of armour. Odd. But, then again, perhaps goblins on the surface just had better gear than their underground counterparts?


    Many of the goblins had taken up cover behind trees and rocks, while crossbow bolts whistled into the treeline from the road beyond. Coin crept closer, his hearing growing more defined as he sculpted a pair of ears on the sides of his domed head. Now he could hear humans shouting and barking orders, in between volleys of crossbow fire.


    Coin crept closer, low to the ground, and managed to see the side of a carriage through the gaps in the trees. But it was far larger, far more opulent than what Elijah carted them around in. There, seated inside the carriage, Coin could see a sharply dressed elf with a short crop of black hair, and unblemished ebony skin. He sat motionless, his cheek resting on his knuckles, and seemed quite bored despite the goblins hurling arrows his way.


    But the reason why swiftly became clear when Coin moved to a better vantage point. A shimmering hemisphere of light encompassed the area around the wagon, casting a faint ruby glow. While a few arrows had feathered the walls of the carriage, any Arrows that flew toward the barrier were flash fried to ash upon contact.


    A handful of guards, wearing flowing red surcoats, had taken up positions behind the barrier. Leaning over, Coin could see that at least two men had been winged by arrows, with another man tending to their wounds. And while the soldiers were doing their best to fight off the marauding goblins, the man seated in the carriage could not have looked less interested if he tried.


    "Well, we''ll be stuck here until those goblins are dealt with," he admitted to himself, annoyed at the prospect of having to wait. And the man in the carriage, snooty as he was, clearly had money. Perhaps helping him out of a jam would net Coin a monetary reward? Elijah had given him gold for his help, after all.


    With that thought fresh in his mind, the mishappen mimic swept across the grass and made for one goblin marksman who was a modest distance from his cohorts. Coin moved from cover to cover, silent as the grave.


    Like an uncoiling snake, his large and semi-formless mass snapped toward the goblin, great jaws unhinging and crushing down on him from the waist up. The confines of his jaws muffled the sudden cracking sound of bones being shattered. Blood dribbled to the grass in thin rivers.


    The taste of goblin meat was every bit as foul as Coin recalled. But, still, as he absorbed some of the goblin''s mass into himself... there was some benefit to having that extra strength to call upon.


    And after accidentally obtaining magic from munching on a random wizard, what was the harm in checking to see if he could get surprising gifts from other morsels?


    Spitting the remains out, he reverted to his human form and slid his swordbelt back around to his waist. He slowly drew his sword from the scabbard, testing the weight in his hand as he surveyed the other goblins from his shrouded vantage.


    A few green corpses were scattered among the brush, feathered with bolts. But this, and their lack of progress cracking the bubble, did not dissuade them. Coin would say this much as a positive for goblins, they were as determined as they came.


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    He clutched his blade tight and surged across the grass, making for the next nearest goblin. The armoured figure turned, lasting just long enough to exclaim a curse as Coin''s sword punched into his gut. It felt strange, admittedly, using a sword as opposed to his bare hands. But it was another part of human culture he supposed he would have to get used to. As he turned on the next set of goblins plunging toward him, he knew he''d have to look up proper lessons on swordfighting.


    Coin''s swings, despite their superhuman quickness, were clumsy and only half-remembered from what he''d seen from adventurers in the past. But a sharpened length of metal was still lethal when swung, regardless of proficiency.


    Other goblins turned toward him, who promptly let loose a flurry of arrows toward Coin. The mimic dodged several of the sharpened arrowheads, sprinting through the brush. But one caught him in the cheek slicing the flesh open and making him git his teeth. His skin wove itself back together, blood oozing and drying on his face.


    Arrows and bolts, he''d come to decide, were far worse than spears.


    A cleaving swipe shaved one goblin''s head from his shoulders, sending it tumbling to the grass. His left hand swept up, firing a coil of wind from his palm that slammed into two goblins, lifting them off their feet and smashing them into a nearby tree. Not hard enough to kill them, but certainly it had them woozy and off balance.


    Coin twisted and swung at an attacker, who deftly dodged and countered with a sweep of his scimitar. The edge grazed Coin''s hip, the mimic reflexively hardening his flesh to ward off the impact. His boot caught the goblin in the head, breaking his neck with the force of his heel.


    The soldiers on the road had seemingly picked up on the commotion, emerging from cover to get better vantage points. More bolts flew through the trees, cutting down a few of the goblins as they tried to emerge from cover.


    This, it seemed, was finally enough for the survivors to try and beat a retreat. One of them, who looked slightly larger than his kinsman and had a red cape of sorts pinned to his pauldrons, barked out a guttural command and turned to flee into the woods. His remaining soldiers turned to flee, just as Coin cut down the last of the goblins nearest to him.


    Coin watched them go, huffing for breath. He sheathed his sword, hummed to himself, and then checked the nearby bodies to see if any had been carrying money. Not much, as it happened. But a few extra coins was better than none at all.


    One of the guards poked his head in for a better look. his face concealed by the sloping steel faceplate of his helm. "More of them than I thought," he muttered, looking Coin in the eye. "Appreciate the help. Even if, normally, we shouldn''t accept help from civilians."


    Coin shrugged. "Can''t complain too much if it worked, right?" he asked. "But, who are you people exactly?"


    "We''re the security detail for Chancellor Fiodor. We were en route back to Sentinel when those vicious little bastards attacked us. More dangerous than any goblin ambush I''ve dealt with before."


    "Fiodor," Coin murmured. Must have been the disinterested man seated in the carriage. "Definitely never seen goblins dressed like this," he said, gesturing to the nearest corpse.


    "Nor I. But, well, thank you again." The guard bowed, turned stiffly, and made his way back to the carriage. Coin hesitated before following after the man. Perhaps the fellow in the carriage would be more eager to give him a reward.


    The barrier around the carriage was dissolving away as Coin made his approach. Fiodor emerged from his carriage, the chilly breeze flapping at the base of his long coat. "Did we truly waste so much time being waylaid by goblins?" he asked in a low voice, lazily examining his fingernails.


    "They were... tougher than standard goblins, Chancellor."


    Fiodor stared at the guard, his expression flat. "I''m beginning to question your qualifications as a security detail," he bluntly replied. Before the cringing guard could reply, Fiodor''s steely eyes swivelled toward Coin. "And you had to rely on a stranger to get you out of trouble."


    "Ah, well. I just needed to get the goblins out of the way. But if you wanted to thank me, I wouldn''t say no."


    Fiodor stared at him, a pale blue glow shimmering in his eyes. "I see you''re rife with magic," he remarked, his eye twitching slightly.


    "I... am," Coin reluctantly replied. A chill ran down his spine. Had the elf seen through his disguise?


    "Always a disgraceful sight. Humans meddling with magic, the domain of my kind... Your ilk should stick to pointy bits of metal. And you have the audacity to come to me, expecting a handout?"


    He felt the rising disdain from the tall, willowy figure. The goblins hadn''t been enough to get him out of his chair, but the prospect of a human with magic seemed to vex him to his core. "I was simply lending a hand." Admittedly for his own benefit, and then for the chance of some extra money, but he didn''t need to know that.


    Fiodor scoffed, raised his right hand, and let loose a bolt of pure pressurized force. Coin snapped his hands up on a reflex, forming a basic barrier that his textbook had described. A hemisphere of raging, magic-infused wind flashed into existence a few paces ahead of him, warding off much of the impact as it uprooted a swathe of ground at his feet.


    "Oh, what an adorable little barrier," the elf mockingly remarked. Through the haze of shimmering air wrought by Fiodor''s power, Coin could glimpse metal ring glittering on his finger. "Know your damn place!"


    A stronger wave of force suddenly erupted from Fiodor''s hand, cleaving through the air in an instant. Coin''s barrier was shattered, the mimic being flung off his feet as if swept aside by a turbulent ocean tide. His back met the unwelcoming earth, rock and soil being torn asunder, before he came to a grinding halt with an earth-shuddering force that knocked several trees from their moorings. Flocks of birds flew from their perches in a terrified panic, making a beeline for the clouds.


    Fiodor lowered his hand, staring at the smoking crater he had hewn into the landscape. His gathered guards stared, dumbstruck and horrified. The elf scoffed, turning back toward his carriage. "A damn aberration, asking me for a handout. The nerve. Come on you layabouts, I want to make it to Sentinel by sundown. No more delays!"


    And so Fiodor''s group pressed on toward the city, leaving Coin unconscious in a furrowed crater.

 Chapter 19 - Call For Aid

    In the aftermath of the Glain massacre, Illyana and the other surviving adventurers had returned to Wheat Valley. They had thoroughly checked the remains of the town before leaving, and found no survivors in the village, nor any other goblins beyond a few corpses from the original raid on the town.


    But one worrying thing had come up during their search: Colossal footprints, larger even than the hoofprints of the dire boars. Ogres had partaken in the raid, and Illyana couldn''t fathom why. Traditionally, ogres and goblins gave each other a wide berth. Too much trouble for either side to kill. Yet they had apparently united to raze a random town.


    The more Illyana thought of it, the more concerned she became. In the days that followed, sleep was a fleeting and illusive thing for her.


    After recovering from her injuries, which happened swiftly given her constitution, she had been summoned to give a detailed report to the head of Wheat Valley''s guild hall. Any incident that resulted in the destruction of a town, and the deaths of several adventurers, naturally warranted a great deal of scrutiny.


    Illyana, dressed in a scarlet poet shirt, dark trousers, and riding boots, ventured through the two massive rosewood doors at the hall''s entrance. Her armour, after all, needed to have a few dents and cuts mended and so she needed a change of wardrobe to look presentable.


    The vast marble foyer was, as ever, a hive of activity. Young rookies were cloistered around a bounty board, alternating between discussing the jobs on offer and gossip they had picked up from other adventurers. A few merchants from the Venture Company were busy bringing in boxes of provisions. To the other side of the room, by the reception desk, one adventurer was trying to haggle with the clerk about payment.


    Said clerk, a stone-faced elven man with a shaved head, was unmoved. Clerks, accountants, and lawyers, much like gravity and the elements, could only be negotiated with through the use of powerful magic. Illyana met the older elf''s eyes as they passed. His face betrayed nothing, but she could see the scrutiny in his eyes.


    Word had already spread like wildfire about the Glain incident, that much was obvious with how hushed the gossip became whenever Illyana passed another adventurer. But gossip, as ever, warped the truth considerably. Already she''d heard all sorts of tall tales and rumours swirling around herself and the others who had survived the incident.


    The most extravagant tale Illyana had overheard was that a dragon had caused the destruction of Glain, after waking from hibernation in the northern reaches of Thallborea. If a dragon emerged from hibernation, news would have spread far and wide across the entirety of Arcadia in the span of days. And, frankly, it would have to be a very unimaginative dragon if the best they could think to do was raid some backwater town.


    The less savoury tale was that the story of ''smart goblins'' was a fabrication, and that the adventurers at Glain had been hired by a gang of rogues to torch the town. It was perhaps slightly more believable than the truth, Illyana was still grappling with the words that dying goblin had spat at her, but to have people speculate on her in that way made her blood boil.


    She pressed on, ignoring the side-eyes and hushed murmuring, and made for the second floor of the hall. A large office sat only a modest distance from the crest of the stairs, the door ajar. Illyana pressed inside, and was greeted by a thick smell of tobacco smoke.


    Karse Freide, the head of Wheat Valley''s guild hall, say behind the expansive surface of his desk. Smoke hissed from his pipe in thick black coils as he shifted it from one corner of his mouth to the other. He was a large man, partially taller than Illyana, with hairy and muscular arms. He had, at one point, been a warrior of considerable talent from the harshest mountain clans of Eldergard. The hair atop his head had grown thin, but his jaw was shrouded in a coarse, black beard.


    It was hard to believe he was actually younger than Illyana.


    He fished his pipe from his mouth with one hand, the other brushing a few stray leaves from his jerkin. "Illyana. Good to see you''re still in one piece."


    "Only barely," she said, flashing a wan smile. She closed the door behind her and took a seat across from the shaggy man.


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    He nodded, his expression unreadable. "Already spoke to the others to get their account of things. The stories are near-identical, so I''m inclined to believe they''re being truthful. As insane as the whole thing sounds to me. Goblins wearing proper armour, using cannons? I would''ve have thought someone was trying to pull the wool over my eyes if we hadn''t lost good people to that whole ordeal."


    "I was there, and I still don''t believe it." Illyana leaned forward and recounted the details to the best of her abilities. Karse sat comfortably to watch her, silently puffing in his pipe and only occasionally asking her for more information. By the time she was finished, without even realising it, the elf''s posture had grown rigid with her fingers digging into her knees.


    Karse reclined, his eyes darting to the ceiling. "Sentinel''s mercy," he muttered.


    "So what are we to do now?" Illyana asked, frowning. "We... we need to get word to the capital. I don''t know what''s going on but it''s clearly something major. What if an attack comes to Wheat Valley?"


    "Ideally, we''ll fare better than Glain did. We''re larger, our local militia is bigger and better equipped, and we have our own artillery. To say nothing about our own guild members, and Scylla is essentially a one woman army," Karse explained. "If the goblins and their ilk come our way for a fight, then they''ll get more than they bargained for."


    Illyana frowned. Only a few days ago the idea of goblins posing a threat to the town would have seemed absurd to her. Now she couldn''t take anything for granted.


    "If the archchancellor hears about this, then the whole countryside is likely to be rife with soldiers. You know what he''s like, certainly wouldn''t abide goblins wiping out a town."


    Karse fell silent as he watched the elf, his brow furrowing. "If he even believes what he''s told."


    "Why... wouldn''t they?" Illyana warily asked.


    The hulking man reclined in his chair, the wood creaking in protest. "I''ve dispatched a few messages to nearby guild halls. The responses I''ve gotten have been... incredulous at best. They don''t believe me. Frankly I wouldn''t believe it either, if I wasn''t the man who had to deal with crying old mums who just had to bury their children on my watch."


    "An entire town was wiped off the map!" Illyana balked. "They can go down there and see the burned bodies for themselves if they don''t bloody believe it!"


    Karse sighed. "They believe Glain was destroyed, but they don''t believe the goblins acted independently," he said. "My counterparts are saying the goblins must have been armed and commanded by some group of brigands. Which has, admittedly, happened in the past."


    "Bandits have bribed goblins with alcohol and weapons, yes, but nothing of this... scale. Certainly not like anything I''ve ever heard of," the blonde hastily replied.


    "I believe you. Truly, I do. Unfortunately my counterparts are less inclined to do so, and I imagine things will be the same if word reaches Sentinel."


    Illyana set her jaw tight. Would people really turn a blind eye to all of this? What if another town was attacked?


    All sapient species, regardless of their differences, were united by one common cultural feature: The ability to ignore and downplay a problem until the problem had grown so large that it could grab them by the collar and pull them down to eye level.


    "I have a few people out scouting the wilderness, seeing if they can find any hint of a large gathering of goblins. Whatever the source of this is, ideally we can put it down quickly. But you shouldn''t expect the Obelisk to personally send people to deal with it."


    Illyana fell silent. Somehow she doubted Karse''s people would be able to handle things, and the presence of cannons and ogres gave her the distinct impression they were dealing with an enemy that had considerable numbers and resources at their disposal.


    "I see," she tersely replied.


    "You will be compensated for the time spent in Glain. And your rank will be increased to reflect your victories."


    It didn''t feel like much of a victor. Illyana rose to her feet, offering him a small nod. "Thank you, Karse," she said, resisting the frustration bubbling through her. "If you don''t mind, it will be some time before I take another contract."


    "Understandable," the bearded man replied. "Take care of yourself in the meantime, yeah? Feels like Glain won''t be the last of our troubles. Dark clouds on the horizon."


    Illyana was damn sure it wouldn''t be. Those goblins waiting in the town had likely been a fraction of the force that demolished it, relishing in their victory. The image of that flag flashed in her mind as she left Karse''s office, a flag that the goblins had seemingly rallied around.


    This wasn''t just an act of random banditry.


    But Karse, ultimately, was small time. She could not fault him for not being able to do much, but that didn''t mean she had to be bone idle about all this.


    She found Varis only a few paces from the office door, lazily picking his fingernails with the tip of a dagger. A bandage was woven around his arm. As sly and swift as he was, he had not gotten through the fight unscathed. "Ah, my favourite pointy-eared warrior," he said, grinning and flashing his yellowed teeth.


    "The offer to break your nose still stands," she replied.


    "Ha. I don''t doubt it," Varis said, sheathing his blade. "Take it you had to tell your side of the story too?"


    "Told him everything I could remember. Don''t think it''s gonna amount to anything though," Illyana said, venturing to the staircase. Varis followed after her.


    "Got a bee in your bonnet, eh?" He chuckled, settling his hands on his hips. "I get the feeling you''re not going to leave things as they are. But surely you don''t plan on doing some gobbo hunting. You''re good, you proved that much to me, but I doubt you can wipe out every goblin in the Arcadian countryside."


    "I don''t plan on doing that. But I intend to go straight to the archchancellor and tell him about what we''ve seen with my own two eyes. All the way to Sentinel itself."

 Chapter 20 - Rise and Shine

    Coin awoke to a darkening sky, the twin moons looming high above him. A weak groaning noise formed in his throat, the mimic trying to force himself upright. He ached from end to end, in a way he never had before.


    "E-Elijah!" Essine called in a panicked voice. "He wakes!"


    Elijah''s wrinkled visage soon loomed over him, the older man tutting. "Calm yourself, lad. You''re among friends," he said, settling his hands on the mimic''s shoulders to keep him from rising.


    "Where are we?" Coin warily asked.


    "We set up camp a little ways out from where we found you. That explosion, whatever it was, that got us running over here," Elijah explained. He sat back and sighed. "I gave you some medicine to dull your pain, but I''m no healer. How are you feeling? Anything broken?"


    Coin shook his head. He could sense the inner workings of his body with greater clarity than a human could, able to sense the state of his bones and muscles. Slowly, subtly, he began to mend the damage with some of his latent biomass.


    "This one found you in a crater, surrounded by dead greenskins. But nobody else was around. What happened?" Essine asked.


    Coin grimaced, thinking back on the last thing he could remember. It had all happened to fast, a rush of force slamming into him at terrifying speeds. And try as he might, he couldn''t fathom what he had done to warrant such a reaction.


    Even when he''d been a normal monster, humans had attacked him in self defence. He couldn''t recall doing anything aggressive toward the elf, nothing to warrant nearly being smashed into a pulp.


    And so he recounted the story, deciding not to mention his shapechanging, and when he spoke about the dark-skinned elf he could see Elijah growing uneasy.


    "Fiodor," the old man said, paling. "Aye. Heard of that one. Chancellor of magical affairs in Arcadia, and said to be one of the nastiest people to serve under Velasco. You didn''t necessarily do anything to set him off, lad. He''s just a prick who has it out for humans with magical potential."


    "And is the world full of... pricks like him?" Coin asked.


    Elijah offered him an apologetic smile. "There are a few elves who get queer and territorial around magic. It''s an ancient thing. From my experience, most don''t care. But those who do..." He grimaced and glanced off to his side. Coin followed his line of sight, to the distant crater he had been blasted into.


    "And this... Fiodor? He is allowed to hold power?" Essine asked. A visible shiver rocked her body. The kobold seemed quite shocked to know injustice was not something exclusive to her people. It was a kind of equality, at least.


    "A prick he may be, but he''s undeniably a prick with considerable magical knowledge and ability. He''s personally welded shut portals to the Bleak, and even warded away a dragon when it threatened Sentinel," Elijah explained.


    Essine''s fur fluffed outward. "D-dragon? There is a dragon near the city?"


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    Elijah shrugged. "There was, years back. Don''t know where it roosts nowadays, probably eastward by Mount Reiss. Wouldn''t worry about it, were I you," he said, describing the dragon with the same one would use to describe a slightly annoying dog. "Well, anyway, he''s said to be one of the strongest wizards in all of Arcadia. And considering who he serves directly under, I can see how he''d end up being so insecure about humans using magic."


    Coin huffed, sinking back into his bedding. He reached over, gripping at his tunic. Still in place, fortunately. If Elijah had tried to remove it, then he likely would have been aware of just how alien Coin actually was.


    "So he attacked me just because he has a grudge against humans?" Coin asked, looking up at the moons. "I don''t understand."


    "Intolerance is hard to predict and harder to understand," Elijah replied. Essine looked away at his words. "Ah, Essine my lass, I think the stew should be fine by now. Would you mind taking a look at it?"


    "Oh, of course. There are a few spices I wished to add," the kobold said. She swiftly rose and scurried away, moving toward the warmth of a crackling campfire.


    Silence fell between the two men, Elijah''s expression slowly growing more grave. "I was about to check you for any broken bones before you got up. Might as well get around to it now. Come on, take your tunic off."


    Coin''s blood ran cold. His clothing felt like normal fabric to the touch, and even rustled about as one would expect it to whenever he moved. Yet it was ultimately an extension of his flesh, joined and held in place by linking membranes on his shoulders and back. ''Removing'' his clothes would be akin to removing a swathe of skin.


    He held a hand aloft to keep Elijah at bay. "I''m fine, really. I''m sore is all," he said, wincing and propping his weight on his elbows. "I''d know if I had anything broken."


    Elijah frowned. "You might have some damage you''re not even aware of. The human body is tricky like that."


    Coin wanted to laugh. The old man had no idea how right he was. "I''m fine, really." He raised the hem of his shirt to expose his slim upper body. "See?"


    "No... bruises? None at all?" Elijah asked, blinking in confusion.


    The mimic flushed. "I had a magical barrier that absorbed most of the hit," he said. Which was at least partially true. "It''s... well, magic allows for a lot of toughness,"


    "I suppose. But it''s a damn miracle you weren''t hurt worse." Sighing, Elijah turned toward the nearby road. "That bastard. Heard tell he could be cruel and violent but I never thought he''d attack a stranger on the road. Bad sign when he''s making the goblins look nice and reasonable in comparison."


    Coin lowered his shirt as Essine returned, a pair of steaming wooden bowls clutched in her grasp. She handed one to Elijah, who graciously accepted it from her. The kobold knelt beside him, managing a weak smile. "Eat, please. It will make you feel better."


    He leaned over for a better look at the dark brown broth in the bowl, chunks of meat and diced vegetables floating on the surface. Essine moved with care, fishing a spoonful up and holding it out for him. And, slowly, Coin ate the offering.


    "This one was worried," Essine said, her ears flattening against the sides of her head. She offered him another spoonful. "The explosion this one saw... it was something that filled me with fear."


    "I''m okay, I promise," Coin replied. He saw the worry in her eyes, the sad twitching of her whiskers, and felt a pang of discomfort swell in his stomach. Guilt, perhaps, for making the kobold worry Whatever the feeling was, he didn''t like it.


    But what he did quite like was Essine''s cooking, greedily devouring each spoonful offered to him. Elijah was a good cook, it was true, but Essine absolutely blew him out of the water. ''Spices'', it seemed, were the key difference between the two. And the pleasant burn in every bite reminded him of the delicious tang of the fried chicken from Wheat Valley.


    A great warmth filled his gut by the time he finished, and Coin did indeed feel better. Yet, in the back of his mind, he could not help but think back on Fiodor, the look of disdain the wizard had worn on his face.


    He hadn''t done anything to deserve that, nothing to warrant being nearly killed. And the more he thought about it, the angrier he felt. He gripped the top of his bedroll, squeezing it until his knuckles paled.


    Coin wanted to get some kind of payback, to show Fiodor that he couldn''t get away with things like that. But that could come later, he tried to tell himself. When he had a better grasp of his own magic.


    "Thanks, Essine," he said, smiling over at the kobold. She smiled and bowed in turn, before scurrying off to clean the empty bowl. He turned to Elijah, who was slowly finishing the last dregs of his stew. "We continuing on toward Sentinel?"


    "Are you able to travel?" Elijah asked, not looking up from his bowl.


    "I should be. A night''s rest is all I need, I promise."


    Elijah gave him a wary look, arching on eyebrow. "You best not be lying to me," he said, pointing at the mimic with his spoon.


    "I''m being totally honest," he lied.


    Elijah sighed and set his bowl aside. "Fine, fine. I''ll take you at your word, as strange as your condition seems to me. Come morning we''ll continue on, and we''ll be in Sentinel before you know it. Ideally without another fight kicking off along the way."

 Chapter 21 - Welcome to Sentinel

    The gate to Sentinel was a hive of activity, an abundance of wagons moving too and from the gatehouse. It was a slow process for Coin and the others to draw nearer, with a security checkpoint halting every person ahead of them. Elijah was undaunted, sporting a carefree smile as their turn came about.


    "Something the matter?" he asked as a guard, adorned in a traditional Arcadian red and silver surcoat, approached. "Didn''t have this much scrutiny the last time I came to Sentinel."


    "Archchancellor Velasco has called for more stringent security checks around the gates. Smuggling has become more of a problem for us," he said, regarding the back of the wagon dispassionately. "What are you carrying?"


    "Spices, provisions, and a few pieces of pottery. Sold off most of my wares on the way up here," Elijah replied.


    The guard nodded, his attention focused on Essine. The young woman shrank under his gaze. "You''re bringing a kobold into the city?" he asked, in a tone that sounded like ''you''re really going to walk into my house with shit on your boot?''


    "No law against it, last I checked," Elijah said, fishing out his Mercantile Guild badge.


    "Here and now, the law is what I say it is," the guard said, gruffly snatching the badge. He checked the name, then paled and seemed to almost deflate. "Of course, er, there are no issues for a man of your status Ser DiVenture. Please, go on through!"


    Elijah took his badge back and nodded firmly. "Too right there are no issues."


    They boarded Dancer and the wagon at the stables, and pressed on into the city. Almost at once Coin found himself nearly overwhelmed by the tides of people moving too and fro, dotted all around a sea of dirty wooden or red brick buildings. Many of the structures were squat, others had been haphazardly slapped together on top of sturdier buildings.


    The majority of people Coin spotted were humans and gnomes. And many tiny, youthful humans that he initially mistook for gnomes. Occasionally he would spy a kobold, usually and ironically distinguished by the hoods they wore to try and blend in.


    "This district here is often called Lowtown by Sentinel locals. An unflattering name, but it''s not undeserved. I suppose you could see it as a spot where most of the citizens live. Bit of a slum, but the alehouses are usually decent," Elijah explained as the trio walked along. "Head far enough leftward and you''ll eventually reach a district called the Spokes. That''s where all the factories, forges, and foundries are found."


    He gestured with his left hand as he spoke, to where the sky was blackened with smog. Coin winced. Lowtown already smelled rather poor. He had to imagine the smell in the Spokes was downright horrific.


    "Head far enough rightward, and you end up in the Merchant''s Quarter. We''ll head there in a spell but as the name implies, it''s the commercial hub of the city. And, by extension, Arcadia as a whole. Lastly, toward the Obelisk, is Hightown. You can probably assume who lives there by the name." Elijah hesitated, turning toward Essine. "My lass, it would be prudent of you to avoid that area entirely, I''m sorry to say."


    The kobold seemed undaunted. "Of course," she replied.


    They continued deeper into Lowtown, passing by the whorehouses and dancer halls. The women outside beckoned to Coin, intrigued and excited, but the mimic seemed not to notice. It was only by pure chance that Coin ended up as handsome as he was, his face a neatly balanced blend of many adventurer faces. Those hot-blooded hard-headed young men had all been handsome devils, the kind of lads who could have been protagonists in their own YA adventure novels.


    If only they had been slightly more cautious when opening treasure chests.


    The group pressed on toward the Merchant''s Quarter, and the closer to the edge of Lowtown they got, the nicer their surroundings seemed to become. Tidier, less crowded, fewer rats reclining lazily in the shadows. The smell was consistent, however, and everyone around Coin seemed indifferent toward it. Even the ruined temple hadn''t been quite so filthy.


    Elijah led the way to a boarding house near the border between the districts (cheerfully named ''The Drunken Tramp''s Roost''), and paid for their lodgings. The owner had been wary about renting a room for a kobold, but his wariness had suspiciously died as soon as Elijah set a fat stack of ducats on his counter.


    It was an important lesson for Coin. The right amount of gold could grease the wheels for just about anyone.


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    Essine decided to stay back in Lowtown, first to rest a bit in their rented rooms, and then to do some ingredient shopping at the few stalls they had passed on their way through. Elijah, in turn, led Coin deeper into the Merchant''s Quarter.


    "This place really is massive," Coin said as they strode down the central street. He kept a comfortable grip on his bag, as Elijah did. Thieves and cutpurses were apparently not uncommon in the capital. "How do people not get lost in all this?" His eyes roamed down various side streets and thoroughfares. Some of them, at a glance, made his fight or flight response do a few preliminary stretches.


    "As with a lot of things, you simply get used to it. Walking these streets, committing them to memory, you do that enough times and the scale seems insignificant," Elijah explained. "Think of it like your penmanship lessons. Your writing has gotten much better from repeated practice."


    Coin frowned. "Not too sure about that," he replied.


    The Merchant''s Quarter was much tidier and cleaner than Lowtown had been, marked by cobblestone streets that were being regularly groomed by custodians. The buildings were larger, sturdier, constructed from large grey bricks and topped by sloping red-tiled roofs.


    Even the people seemed different, sharply-dressed and carrying themselves with a bit more pride in their posture. It was only here that he started to notice elves among the crowds.


    Elijah led the way to a building that loomed far larger than those that surrounded it: A massive white-bricked structure with gold-hued doors, and a domed roof that looked sturdy enough to shrug off cannon fire. Coin lingered to read the sign posted just outside the entrance: The Bank of Arcadia.


    "We need to make a bit of a withdrawal from my account," Elijah said as he made for the entrance, using words he wrongly assumed held any meaning to Coin. "You do, after all, need a bit more money if you want to do real business in the capital."


    Coin smiled. "So I get to see how much money you have? Guess I''m pretty excited," he said, his mind''s eye flooded with rivers of golden coins.


    They pressed on, venturing into a marble-floored foyer with tall gilded walls. An image had been elegantly painted onto the floor, depicting a woman in a flowing dress, sporting a tower shield. She stood guard before a mountain of golden coins, warding off shadowy figures that looked vaguely like goblins.


    Elijah approached one clerk, a rotund and pale man in an expensive suit. He looked up at the two, managing a grin. "Ah, Ser DiVenture! It''s been so long, truly."


    "Hello Lunse. How''s the family?" Elijah''s smile was friendly, but Coin knew the man well enough by now to know he didn''t really care about the answer either way. This was merely, as they said in the mercantile world, ''small talk.''


    "Ah, well, my daughter got that apprenticeship under Crane Hoster. And she''s making the most of the opportunity. The old boar is as crass as they come, but at least he treats his workers well. You know how it is, sometimes the best you can hope for is an employer who won''t spit in your eye and tell you that it''s raining."


    "Why, that''s wonderful!" Elijah forced a smile. "She''s earned it. Talent like hers? Only a matter of time before she was recognised for it."


    "Quite right. So, who is your friend?"


    "I''m Coin," he replied, stepping forward. "I''m his... apprentice. Learning all about the merchant life from him."


    Lunse looked between the two men, and a strange sadness briefly flickered in his eyes. "Ah," he said. "Well, a delight to meet you Mister Coin. I assume this is your first visit to our fine institution?"


    Coin nodded. "First time in Sentinel too." In the past, a mimic would only get into Sentinel as a finely taxidermized specimen.


    Lunse''s eyes widened, swivelling toward Elijah. "Grace of the Goddess. Where did you find this one? Growing out of a cabbage patch?"


    Chuckling, Elijah leaned toward the counter. "He saved me from a jam, and he''s got a good head on his shoulders. More than enough for me," he said. "Would you be so kind as to lead us to my vault?"


    "Ahh," Lunse grinned, flashing his own golden tooth. "Looking to make a withdrawal? Come along then." He turned and set off at a comfortable pace, deeper into the confines of the bank. Elijah and Coin followed after him.


    "I get the feeling you don''t actually like that man too much," Coin murmured to his mentor.


    Elijah shrugged. "It''s good business to be friendly to those who are tied to money. Especially if it is your money. Always greet a prospective business partner with a smile and a handshake, even if you hate their guts. And besides Lunse is nice enough, just..." he stared at the man''s distant back as he hurried along, and seemed to grow more annoyed the longer he stared. "A bit much, at times."


    The trio moved downstairs, to an underground corridor that stretched on for a considerable distance. Oil lanterns hung equidistant from each other, providing a hazy orange light to cut through the blackness. They were flanked on both sides by tows and rows of steel vault doors, standing tall above the men and engraved in strange runes. Even in passing, Coin could sense lingering traces of magic in the metal, creating a tingle in the back of his brain.


    "I''m sure this is quite a lot for you to take in, young man," Lunse called, looking back at the mimic. "We''re the largest bank on the entire continent. Few institutions across Vyndrel come close to our scale. All the wealthiest folks of Arcadia bank with us, from merchants through to our own chancellors!"


    That quickly caught Coin''s attention. "Chancellors like Fiodor?" he asked. Elijah gave him a wary side-eye.


    Lunse gave him a strained smile. "Indeed we do." He hardly seemed thrilled about it, and Coin couldn''t blame him.


    "Interesting." An idea planted itself in Coin''s head, which he set aside for later. He''d get what he was owed from the elf, one way or another.


    "Ah, here we are! Vault thirteen, of our dear Ser DiVenture! You have your key, I trust?"


    Elijah fished under the collar of his shirt, producing a necklace that had a rather large silver key dangling from the end. It was a four-sided key, each face cut into a strange shape. "Always. Wouldn''t ever dare lose it."


    Lunse fished a great keyring from his belt, weighted with an abundance of similarly shaped keys. He sorted through them one by one, until he found the one numbered as thirteen. Both men slotted their keys into opposite ends of the vault door, which released an echoing clunking sound that nearly made Coin jump out of his skin.


    "Been a while since we last popped this one open," Lunse mused. "But thank goodness our people are so meticulous when it comes to maintenance."


    The great wheel in the middle of the door spun and shifted, mechanisms inside the metal clicking and clacking. Steam puffed from the seams of the door before it opened and began to push inward, gradually revealing the innards of the vault.


    Coin''s jaw nearly dropped.


    A sea of glittering gold greeted him.

 Chapter 22 - Rosenstern and Guildencrantz

    Treasure chests upon treasure chests lined the walls of the vault. And though many of them were shut, Coin could tell that that they were all laden with coins. A few desks were arrayed in a semicircle just ahead of them, stacked with mounds of coins and pyramids of gold bars, which shone with a brilliance that made Coin''s heartbeat quicken.


    A few other goods were dotted about on the floor and shelves. Chalices, gems, boxes of preserved oil paintings. He followed the two men inside, eyes wide and jaw hanging agape while the two old men chatted among themselves, as if they weren''t surrounded by the most beautiful treasure in all creation.


    "How much were you hoping to withdraw?" Lunse asked.


    Elijah hummed, his rheumy eyes inspecting every corner of the room. He made for a random chest and popped it open, adding an extra golden glare to the chamber. "I suppose we''ll want a sizeable sum just to have on hand. You know how it is, things are expensive in Sentinel these days and it''s good to have some physical cash to hand. Risks to security be damned."


    "Oh, undoubtedly. But fortunately you have the funds to get by," Lunse replied.


    The two men set about discussing specific numbers, and gossip heard around Arcadia''s economy. Coin ignored this, subtly opening the lid of the nearest chest. Just as he had expected, it was loaded near to the brim with stacks of ducats. This was the case with every chest he peered into.


    Coin''s grasp of numeracy was still that of a novice. But he knew that even someone skilled in the field would struggle to count Elijah''s wealth coin by coin. How much did he have? More importantly, Coin asked himself, how did he get so much money in the first place?


    Eventually, the two men seemed to decide on an agreed sum. Elijah filled a canvas bag with ducats and hitched it to his hip. Then Lunse had a burly man bring a steel lockbox into the chamber, which was quickly filled with coins. The mimic watched all the while, trying his hardest not to drool or hyperventilate. That primordial animal part of his brain was commanding him to devour every scrap of gold in sight.


    "Coin, my lad," Elijah said as the combination lock was adjusted on the lockbox. "Would you mind carrying this for me?"


    And Coin did just that. Even if the money was held back by a steel shell, he was still more than happy to have a massive haul of gold curled in his arms. So excited was he that he barely attempted to mask his strength as he hoisted the box up.


    Lunse and his burly employee blinked in shock. "My, you are... quite strong, for a short fellow," Lunse murmured, instantly having a better understanding of why he''d ended up in Elijah''s employment.


    "He drinks plenty of milk," Elijah quickly replied, making for the vault door. "Come along Coin. Thank you for your time, Lunse. Always a pleasure. Say hello to your family for me!"


    The two reemerged onto the Merchant''s Quarter. Coin continued staring at the lockbox in his arms, his mouth going dry. Eventually, once they were rounding a corner away from the bank, he regained enough of his wits to speak. "How did... how do you have so much money?"


    "Hm?" Elijah glanced up, a blank look on his face. "Ah, well, a good deal of luck, I suppose. I was in the right place at the right time for some very lucrative deals. Had a rather massive business for a time and.... well I gave it up, you see." The more he spoke, the more his expression changed. A grim sadness blossomed on his wrinkled features. "Had to... step away, as it were. But I''d earned more than enough over the years to have a fund like that stored away. Though a few things in there are gifts I never saw fit to sell off or throw away."


    He hardly seemed impressed by his own wealth, which caught Coin by surprise. His own wealth was a simple fact of his life, and he''d earned so much that he''d likely have died of old age before he could spend all of it.


    "Then... what do we need this much money for? Did you have something in mind?" Coin asked.


    Elijah grunted. "Nothing set in stone, we''ll just need to see who''s advertising down at the guild hall. But, as I said, it''s costly to do business with clients in Sentinel, and it''s a good idea to have physical cash for all the institutions that don''t take checks. Before we get into all that, however." He pinched one of Coin''s sleeves, and the mimic tried not to wince. "We really need to get you more respectable clothing."


    They left the lockbox in one of their rented rooms and locked the door behind them. Essine had already left, but Elijah was sure she''d be back before sundown.


    On their way back through the city, Coin noticed a few oddities. One was a man who stood on the corner of one street, using a pair of crates to give him extra height. He was dressed in a flowing white robe, an orange diamond stitched to the material above his heart.


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    "... And I say to you all that every ill in the world is a direct result of our own sin. Goblins attacking people in greater numbers than ever before, crime and degeneracy polluting our streets, reports of illness and plague to the east! It all stems from us, our own evil. Far too many of us have turned away from the teachings of the Goddess!" He gestured to the four-pointed diamond on his breast. "Honour! Courage! Charity! Wisdom! These are the four tenets we are supposed to embody, yet we are losing track of it! And suffer as a result!"


    Elijah scoffed as they passed the crowd that had gathered near the shouting preacher. "Honestly, men like him are such a blight. Rabble rousers shrieking about virtues and the like."


    Coin watched the man as they passed, one eyebrow raised high. "Are people like that... common? People shouting and raving like that?"


    "Usually in the larger cities," Elijah admitted with a shrug. "For whatever reason, cities tend to draw in people like that. I suppose there''s just no shortage of those looking to gain attention. Though at least that one is wearing clothes."


    "And what about those people?" Coin asked, raising a hand and motioning to a small group of people on the opposite street. They were cloistered behind a wooden hut, handing out bundles of printed paper in exchange for ducats.


    Elijah nodded. "Those are newsmen. Something of a new development, you only ever see them in the larger cities. They have ways of taking in important events occurring in the city or the surrounding area, and disseminate that information to the rest of the city. For a price."


    Coin looked to one of the pages in passing, hanging from the roof of the hut. "Wizard... sets sail... for... new world?" Coin murmured.


    "Oh?" Elijah perked up. "Well, I''ll be, Kairo actually went and did it. Don''t know if I''ll ever see the old fool again. But I suppose it was just a matter of time. He''d spent years jawing on about land beyond the Treacherous Sea. Wizard or not, he''ll likely die like every other man who tried to sail to the far west."


    The mimic briefly remembered the map he had seen, the outline of the coast and the sea beyond Arcadia''s shores. All that vastness was water, a river that apparently stretched on forever. "There''s really nothing out there?" he asked.


    "Just storms and tides. Beyond which lies the edge of the world. Nothing for you to worry about. There''s already plenty of business to be found in the land we currently have."


    Coin found himself being led deeper into the Merchant''s Quarter, where the streets were lined by storefronts. Eventually this led to a string of buildings that had all manner of clothing framed inside their windows.


    But the one Elijah settled on was a rather large shop that sported a nearly carved wooden above the doorway: Rosenstern and Guildencrantz''s Clothing Emporium. He grinned as he held the door open for Coin, motioning him inside.


    "What we have here," the old man began, "is one of the finest tailors in all of Arcadia. A personal favourite of mine, an institution that has seen me clothed through many seasons and occasions. I''d look like a tramp without their help."


    Coin tensed as he passed what appeared to be an entire gallery of... wooden humans, standing as rigid as statues and adorned in an assortment of finely tailored outfits. He poked one, just to make sure it wouldn''t move. It was an absolute relief when it didn''t.


    "This is weird," Coin mumbled.


    "Weird? Hardly. Those mannequins cost us plenty of gold!" The voice, high-pitched and elegant, came from the back of the shop. An elf with tanned skin and a shaved head bustled into the room, adorned in a white coat and black suit that was tailored around his tall, spindly frame. Dark brown hair covered his jawline, immaculately groomed. "They''re some of the finest money can buy."


    "They are a little bit eerie, Rosenstern," Elijah admitted as he ventured inside. "But I can tell you''re still doing well, regardless."


    "But of course," the elf replied. "As if the fine people of Sentinel could live without us. And I see that you''re still alive, despite being absolutely ancient by human standards."


    Another elf, presumably Guildencrantz, emerged from the back room. He was markedly more portly than his companion, his skin as pale as Illyana''s had been, and his golden hair was tied back in a knot. Small glasses sat on the broad bridge of his nose. "Well, you know our dear Elijah," he said with a chuckle. "He may well outlive any elf, such is his luck."


    "To the misfortune of everyone else," Rosenstern replied. He smirked at the human all the same. "I see your suit is still in good shape. A rarity, considering how reckless you tend to be with the clothing we painstakingly make for you."


    "Of course. I''d sooner die than face another lecture."


    "Tear another of my masterpieces, and I''ll skip the lecture and go straight to killing you. Guildencrantz may tolerate nonsense, I most certainly do not."


    Guildencrantz snickered. "So brutal."


    "Well, what brings you here today?" Rosenstern said, folding his slim arms.


    "Looking to get something made," he clapped a hand onto Coin''s shoulder, "for my apprentice."


    "Apprentice?" Guildencrantz regarded Coin briefly, his eyes darting to Rosenstern. The two men seemed uncomfortable, briefly, but the portly man quickly righted himself by clearing his throat. "Ah, well, you can hardly be a decent merchant if you don''t look the part."


    The elf fished a measuring tape from on of the many pockets of his smock, and proceeded to bustle around Coin. He held the length to his shoulders, then down the length of one arm, then hitched it tight around Coin''s waist. Once he finished, the blond bustled toward a notepad on his desk and quickly scribbled a few numbers down.


    "My, you really have gotten old. Can''t even count the measurements with your bare eye," Rosenstern mocked, checking the written numbers. "Hmph. I had those guessed as soon as I saw the boy."


    "Ah, my friend. You may prefer to guess. But I like to be precise," Guildencrantz mocked. "Still, Elijah, we happen to have a few suits to meet your apprentice''s proportions. Well, with a modest bit of adjustment on the sleeves, at least. But knowing you, I assume you want something special?"


    Elijah considered this while Coin regarded the mannequins again. "Something water proof, and insulated for the cold. The Reaping Season will be here before we know it, after all," he said.


    "Then you are in luck," Rosenstern said, moving toward a line of mannequins at the far end of the shop. Five of them, identically posed, wearing long coats over their shoulders. "We had these brought in from Eldergard just the other week, a practical kind of fashion worn by their highland traders. Waterproof outer layer, warm inner layer, and an abundance of inner pockets. Even got them in a few different colours."


    Coin approached the, inspecting each in turn. But ultimately, as if drawn in by magnetism, his attention was firmly rooted on one that was emerald green with a golden trim. "That one," the mimic proudly said. "I like the look of that one."

 Chapter 23 - Sick New Threads

    It wasn''t too difficult to give the impression that he was ''changing'' clothes. Fortunately he''d had the foresight to bring his backpack with him, and could simply lie and say he''d stuffed his old clothes in there. He folded his ''clothing'' back into his biomass, save for his boots. Rosenstern and Guildencrantz were tailors, not cobblers, and so he could keep his footwear for now.


    The tricky part, however, was dealing with all the buttons, and sleeves, and making sure everything was hitched into the right place and was the right way around. Eventually, much to the impatience of Rosenstern, the mimic exited the changing room clad in his new suit.


    And, immediately after, two men were fussing over him to adjust his bolo tie, fix the buttons on his waistcoat, and get his collar properly in place. They were just shy of checking his teeth and slathering his face in trendy makeup.


    "Well now," Rosenstern said, stroking Coin''s hair into a more manageable style, "you look just about presentable now."


    "Indeed," Guildencrantz added, nodding enthusiastically. "No pox, no scars, no traces of white hot flux. For a country lad, he doesn''t seem to need any cosmetic additions."


    "Aye. Skinsculpting or makeup would be a rather costly addition," Rosenstern said.


    "Nothing I couldn''t afford. But, yes, it''s nice to save money where we can," Elijah remarked, rising from the seat he had taken.


    Coin inspected his reflection, touching and brushing the fabric that now adorned him. It was strange, he thought, being covered with something that wasn''t his own flesh. But the fabric was pleasantly soft to the touch, insulating him with a comforting warmth. The scent, too, was pleasant.


    But what struck him most, as he stared at his own reflection, was how much more... respectable he looked. The attire he''d chosen to cover himself with initially had just been a matter of convenience, copying the first articles of clothing he could see. But that attire really hadn''t suited him at all, and that became readily apparent now that he could see himself in an outfit that actually looked good.


    He rolled his shoulders, the long coat draped on his back shifting about. Nodding to himself, he slid his arms through the sleeves to don the coat properly. "I look really good," he said, grinning excitedly.


    "Quite right, young Master Coin. Quite right indeed!" Guildencrantz excitedly said. "Always good to see a young caterpillar emerge from his cocoon, adorned in the radiant silken wings of a butterfly!"


    Rosenstern sighed, pinching his chin. "Must you always be so... flowery?" he asked.


    "We''ve been partners for decades, you know the answer to that."


    "Unfortunately..." He crouched beside Coin, checking the cuffs of his trouser legs. "Hm. That''s... odd," the elf murmured.


    "What?" Guildencrantz replied.


    "I thought we''d need to tailor the legs a little to be a better fit, but it seems they''re already perfectly aligned," Rosenstern said, furrowing his brow.


    Coin smiled innocently and shrugged. "Guess I was standing at a weird angle when you first saw me." The truth was he hadn''t felt like waiting around to get the suit adjusted, and so had decided to make minute changes to the length of his limbs and torso. Nothing that would stand out too much, but the suit fit like a dream now.


    "I told you, it''s poor form to rely on the naked eye for measurements," Guildencrantz said, winking at his partner. Rosenstern grumbled.


    Elijah made for the counter, pulling a stack of coins from his bag. "I believe this should leave us all square." He and Rosenstern debated a specific sum back and forth for some time, until both men seemed mutually pleased with the arrangement they reached. Well, Elijah looked pleased. Rosenstern looked as grumpy as ever.


    "You know," the elf began, planting his hands on his hips. "You''re the only person I deign to haggle with. And that''s only because you''ve gotten us out of a few binds in the past. Don''t take it for granted."


    "Oh I would never," he said, flicking an extra coin onto the counter. "But I certainly appreciate you being so open-minded. Come along lad, we should check the guild hall before the evening sets in."


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    They ventured onto the busy streets together, Coin shouldering his bag and acting as if it had an extra bit of weight to it. "This really is a lovely suit," Coin said, sweeping a crease from his waistcoat. "Does it make me seem more... merchant-like?" He certainly felt more formal now than he had before.


    "Certainly!" Elijah smiled brightly. "A well-dressed man is a man who inspires trust at a glance. If you appear wealthy, then people will naturally be inclined to believe you''re frugal and wise with money. In your case it''s an illusion. For now, at least. I''m sure, in time, you''ll be every bit as wealthy as you look. Consider this your first step toward becoming a proper merchant."


    Coin nodded along with his mentor''s explanation. "I hope so. You really put down a lot of money for this."


    Elijah scoffed. "Bah! Nothing to worry about, really. Barely made a dent in my coinpurse, if we''re being honest. Besides, sometimes you just have to spend money to make money."


    The mimic shuddered at the thought, his skin twitching beneath the sleek material of his suit. He knew, deep down, that Elijah had a point. But the thought of spending money at all still struck him as some kind of blasphemy. Or, at least, as close to blasphemy as he could grasp.


    "So, onto the guild hall," Coin said, rubbing his hands together. "Do you... know if this one also has fried chicken?"


    Elijah grinned. "They may," he cryptically replied, folding his hands behind his back.


    "Oh come on, don''t tease me!"


    They rounded a corner, only for Elijah to halt as he spied a familiar face in the crowd. A stooping dark-skinned man, sharply dressed as Elijah was, with a thinning head of grey hair. "Well I''ll be," Elijah said, grinning. "Just one more brief detour before the guild hall, my lad."


    Coin gave the stranger a curious look. "Who''s that? Someone you know?"


    "An old business partner. I was considering visiting him at a later date to get something valuable, but if he''s already here..."


    Elijah led the way to the man, who was inspecting the offerings at a fruit stall. It was as his garnet eyes raked across rows of fresh green melons that he seemed to notice Elijah''s approach, causing him to swiftly spin around. "Oh, er, Elijah. Goodness, it''s been so long," he hastily said.


    "Oh yes it certainly has, my dear Valle. Hope all that... nasty business with the Starkers isn''t still following you around."


    The stranger grumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "It''s been taken care of," he hastily replied. "I wouldn''t be walking about so openly otherwise."


    "Yes, well," Elijah forced a smile. "You did owe them a rather substantial debt."


    "It''s been taken care of," Valle brusquely repeated. His attention shifted to Coin, who was watching him intently.


    "I''m Coin. Elijah''s apprentice," the mimic greeted, giving him a stiff nod.


    "Something of a recent acquisition. He''s passionate about profit, has a good head on his shoulders, and knows how to lift heavy objects. What more do you need in an apprentice, eh?" Elijah asked, chuckling. "Coin, this is Valle Irons. Comes from a long line of smiths and weapon merchants, and one of the finest salesmen for killing implements this side of Arcadia."


    But, notably, not THE finest salesman. Coin regarded the older man, saw the nervous sweat that lined the edges of his forehead. And the talk of debts had the mimic intrigued. He knew full well what a debt was, Elijah had discussed it during one of their trades on the road, and he had decided to avoid ever being in debt.


    Owing money to anyone. The thought alone made him itch.


    "Mm. Well, I''ll trust your judgement," Valle replied, giving Coin a nod. "I trust Elijah hasn''t been working you too hard?"


    "Nothing I can''t handle," Coin proudly replied.


    "Most of them say that, in the early stages at least."


    Chuckling, Elijah waved him off. "I was hoping to meet with you, actually. You see there''s something rather specific I''m looking for, and you''re frankly the best port of call I can think of."


    "You need weapons?"


    "Well, you know how it is. The roads are rather dangerous these days."


    Valle nodded sadly. "Aye. All too aware of that," he muttered. "My forges are always hard at work. Say the word and I can fetch you some of the finest pikes, axes, swords, or hammers you''ll find in all Arcadia. For a price, naturally. But you get a friendly discount."


    "Yes, well," Elijah settled a weathered hand on Valle''s shoulder. "We need something a little more... specific. Promethium."


    Valle paled. "I appreciate you having faith in me, but you know how rare meteorite metal can be," he quickly replied.


    "Come now. If anyone has the means to acquire it, it would be you," Elijah said, offering him a knowing smile.


    Coin took a step forward. "We''d certainly appreciate it. In fact, I..." Coin clenched his fist inside his pocket, actively forcing the words which rose in his throat. "I''ll even personally pay for some." Well, he did need it.


    He considered mentioning the dead wizard in the ancient temple, but ultimately thought the better of it. Between the days it took to get to Sentinel, and the days it would take getting back there, in all likelihood the corpse and his promethium were long gone by now. Either stolen by goblins, or pilfered by other adventurers.


    "If you''re just an apprentice, I really doubt you could meet the fee for a promethium ring," said Valle.


    "Indeed. I appreciate your passion, my lad, but promethium is rather expensive. But I do believe Valle has some of the metal to spare," he said, turning toward his friend. "Say, hypothetically, if he was commissioned a to forge promethium ring for the wizard of Northwater about a year ago, only for said wizard to perish in battle against a beast from the Bleak before he could receive what he paid for."


    Valle narrowed his eyes. "You and that memory of yours," he muttered.


    "I know. It''s a curse," Elijah sarcastically replied. "I assume you''ve hung onto it since then. Just in case."


    "So... you still have a meteorite ring?" Coin asked.


    Sighing, he folded his arms and looked away from Elijah, toward a busy thoroughfare. "I may well have it still, locked away in my personal vault. But even for you, it won''t come cheap."


    "I wouldn''t expect it to," Elijah replied, shrugging and smiling. "And you know I always pay well."


    "Fine, fine," Valle said, turning his back to the two. "Give me a day to get everything in order, and I''ll be able to hand it to you. And I should hope you have my ducats ready in advance."


    Coin grinned, settling his hands on his hips. "I''m looking forward to it."

 Chapter 24 - Pick a Contract

    The Mercantile Guild''s hall sat near the edge of the Merchant''s Quarter, looming larger than most of its neighbours. It made the one from Wheat Valley look like a dingy hovel, the stark white walls and gold-fringed columns gleaming in the fading sunlight of the afternoon.


    It sat across from the Adventurer''s Guild, similarly massive in size, and the plaza between them was abustle with traders and imposing, armoured figures. Elijah led the way inside, and the echo of conversations rebounding off the walls and floors was near-deafening.


    Yet, as they reached the halfway point in the foyer, a hush fell over the entire chamber. Coin noticed rather quickly that all eyes were on Elijah, who smiled in a carefree way.


    "You... really are popular," Coin remarked in a low voice. The other merchants resumed their conversation, though now they were markedly more hushed and stealing glances at Elijah and Coin.


    "I have a reputation," Elijah said. "It''s no big deal, really."


    "It doesn''t feel that way to me." Indeed, a few of those same stares were now being turned toward Coin, and his sharp ears could pick up on people wondering about his identity. Walking side by side with Elijah, his presence sent the local gossip mill into high gear.


    Elijah blissfully ignored this and pressed on. "Now let''s see what the old request board has on offer!" The board in question was in fact three wooden boards, side by side with an abundance of papers pinned to the surface.


    Coin surveyed the nearest ones, squinting and focusing to the best of his ability. It was a tough challenge, many of the offered contracts being written in dense script, or in cursive, and all using words that made Coin''s head spin when he tried to comprehend the strings of syllables.


    Elijah, conversely, was roaming across several notices without needing to pause or hesitate. He hummed and huffed, furrowing his brow as he observed some of the offered contracts. "Still rather busy in the city. But contracts aren''t straying too far from Sentinel''s walls." He sighed as he lifted one sheet, reading the contents with great scrutiny. "An expedition into Elbrinth? For a pay out that small? As if," the old man said.


    "Probably on account of all the goblins on the road," Coin suggested, rubbing his chin in that way humans liked to do when they were pretending to be deep in thought.


    "Possibly," Elijah murmured. "But I''d like to take a contract that allows us to stretch our legs a little. And some of these jobs are paying rather poorly. Always be mindful of the ratio of payment to labour. Some folks will make you build a palace for a pittance if they can get away with it."


    Coin nodded along to his explanation, but the majority of his attention was on the jumble of strange words before him on one of the contracts. "Hey, Elijah, what are... ''Contraceptives''? This one is offering a big sum for shipping a lot of them to a... ''cat house''?"


    "Ah... never you mind that, my lad," Elijah quickly replied, coughing into his fist. "It''s... well the pay isn''t very good anyway." And he didn''t like the idea of his naive apprentice being in proximity to seductive women who were adept at fleecing coins from others.


    "Well..." Coin approached his mentor, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. "Are there any contracts here worth taking?"


    The older man considered this until, gradually, his eyes gravitated toward a contract with a silver seal in the top right corner. "Oh my," he murmured, unpinning the notice and drawing it closer to his face. "Now this is a rarity. A contract commissioned by Lady Greatglow herself. And this sum is... quite handsome. Competition is bound to be stiff for it, but I think it''ll be worth the attempt!"


    "Who''s Lady Greatglow?"


    Elijah made for the counter at a measured pace. "A local aristocrat. Her family has a long history in the mining industry, and have become a major supplier of ores and gemstones. Well, gnomes have a general affinity toward that sort of thing. A sort of intimate knowledge of the underground, one might say."


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Coin had only ever seen a handful of gnome adventurers in the past, and would admit they were a bit craftier than their human counterparts. Not as strong or tough, certainly, but they were fleet of foot and could see in the dark even without a torch. Indeed, they had avoided his chambers outright whenever they took a look inside, as if able to sense even the most subtle signs of life from the motionless treasure chest.


    "Sounds like a rich woman," Coin noted, grinning to himself. "Alright, well, what''s she looking for?"


    "Courier work. She''s got a buyer lined up for some paintings she wants to be rid of, a local nob by the name of Gilly Froth, and needs someone to ensure their safe delivery to an estate due north of Sentinel."


    "And that... pays well?" Coin asked. It didn''t sound like valuable work.


    "For the distance travelled and the general workload? Quite generously. But in this case, it''s not just the pay we''re looking for," Elijah replied. He looked Coin in the eye, his expression growing quite grave. "A merchant is reliant on two things above all else. Money, naturally. But near equally important is his connections."


    "Connections? So, the people you work with?"


    Elijah nodded, his face still firm. "Just so, my lad. Get in good with the right people and you can be set for life, becoming a person they trust for valuable contracts, or will recommend to their similarly wealthy friends. Good connections and a good reputation are worth their weight in gold. But, conversely, a bad reputation will spread like wildfire. Becoming a scoundrel who swindles others may result in short term gain, but it''s the kind of thing that will catch up to you in the end. That''s why I emphasize being above board. And, ideally, avoid working with crooked fools as much as possible."


    The clerk behind the desk, a slim and pale human with a series of freckles dotting the bridge of her nose, looked up as they approached. "Oh, Ser DiVenture! It''s been a while."


    "Magda," Elijah greeted with a nod. "Here to turn in the details of my recent trades. For myself, and for my apprentice."


    "Your..." she glanced over with her vibrant emerald eyes, as if only now noticing Coin''s presence. "Oh! Well, of course!" She smiled warmly at the mimic, who stiffly waved at her.


    Magda spent a few moments poring over their ledgers, scribbling notes and occasionally mouthing numbers under her breath. Satisfied, she took their badges and spent some time inscribing a few tiny notches onto Coin''s, using a machine similar to the one at Wheat Valley.


    Coin took his back, inspecting the notches under his name. "What are these?" he asked, glancing to Elijah.


    "They mark your transition toward a new rank. Once the notches reach the other end, you get your new badge and rank."


    Coin checked it again, pursing his lips. "Seems I still have a long way to go."


    Magda laughed gently, adjusting her tie. "As an apprentice, the rate you gain experience will be stunted compared to a solo merchant. Not to worry, Ser Thaeka. You''re under the guidance of a legend. I have no doubt you''ll be soaring high soon." Her eyes met his, a ghost of a smile dancing on her lips.


    Elijah cleared his throat, catching the mimic''s attention before he could read into it. "Well, Magda, we''re also here to talk about taking a contract. Surprised the Greatglow job is still open."


    That made the young woman wince, awkwardly running a hand down her dark brown braid. "Well, you see, Lady Greatglow has requested that all prospective merchants meet with her personally before she''ll consider hiring anyone. It''s somewhat unorthodox. We are, usually, the mediator between both parties. In her case, however, we are advertisers. And considering her wealth, we really don''t have much say in the matter," she explained, trying and failing to maintain a smile.


    An annoyed grunt rose in Elijah''s throat. "Honestly... Well, that complicates things somewhat. But it''s not insurmountable, as far as problems go. I trust you can arrange a meeting for us?"


    "Of course, assuming the contract hasn''t been taken already. Though, from my understanding, that''s not the case," said Magda.


    "Good, good." Elijah looked to the wall behind the clerk, focusing on a brass clock that was quietly ticking away. "Getting late. We should probably head back and meet up with Essine, and have our dinner."


    Coin nodded, resting his hand against his stomach. He was feeling hungry, though that was just his normal state of being. Though now it had gotten to the point where he''d start gnawing on the walls if he didn''t get something soon. Fortunately he wasn''t hungry enough to want to munch on humans.


    "Tell you what, you head back and meet up with her. I''ll get some food and bring it to the inn. I was hoping to grab some new clothes for her too, so I can handle that along the way while I''m at it."


    The two men parted, though Coin was reluctant to go without having something to eat. The streets were indeed growing dark by the time he left the guild hall. He stood idle, briefly, to watch as a fleet of men in matching red coats lit the lampposts that lined the streets.


    Coin took in the smell of burning oil, slowly retracing his steps back through the streets of the Merchant Quarter. Fortunately their prior route had stuck to the main streets, and there were no diversions to turn him around or get him distracted.


    "Human cities really are something else," he murmured under his breath, tucking his hands into his pockets. Coin watched the crowds slowly dispersing, spied strangers enjoying games of dominoes and cards on the sides of the streets, witnessed drunkards rolling about in the gutter as drunks are known to do...


    To think that this whole world had been here all this time, so massive and intricate that his primal mind never could have comprehended it before now. Coin tucked his hands in his pockets. "Couldn''t ever give this up," he murmured.


    He ventured back into the grimy streets of Lowtown, his heart and mind abuzz with curiosity. It was at that moment that the noise of screaming hit his ears.

 Chapter 25 - Save the Girl

    The harsh screams drew Coin in like a moth to a flame, sending jolts of ice cold dread shooting down the length of his back. He didn''t know what he was racing toward, ducking and weaving through trash strewn backstreets, but he knew deep in his soul that it was something awful.


    He rounded a corner and skidded to a stop, just in time to see a trio of burly men looming over a trembling figure. Even through the growing murk of oncoming night, Coin could see Essine''s tail twitching nervously where she lay.


    The ingredients she had bought were strewn about on the ground beside her, blood staining the edges of her muzzle. Coin froze in place, gripped by a sensation he''d never known before. A sense he never could have articulated as a monster.


    A cocktail of fear, disgust, and white hot fury.


    One of the men turned, regarding Coin beneath the brim of his grimy cap. "Ah, jus'' some toff from the Merchant''s," he muttered. "You needn''t worry mate. We''re just showin'' this rat what we think of her kind."


    Coin took a step forward. From where she lay, Essine managed to look him in the eye. He saw the fear in her garnet orbs, the pain and pleading, calling out to him without even saying a word.


    "Get away from her," Coin abruptly said, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.


    Another of the man, older and hunched compared to his peered, snorted and rounded on Coin. He held a club of gnarled wood in his hands, the stiff breeze rustling the frayed material of his coat. "What are you, some kind of rat lover?"


    "I won''t ask again."


    The first man clicked his tongue. "Or what?" He turned fully toward Coin, emphasizing the sheer difference in height and mass between them. "Look at you. You think a pathetic thing like you can order us around?"


    Coin clenched his jaw tight. He wanted, in that moment, to cut loose. To show that oaf what he was really up against. But, even in his furious state, he knew better than to do so. He could get away with doing so to bandits on an empty road, but there would plenty of witnesses in the city.


    But, more than that, he wanted to appear human as much as he could. And the idea of Essine seeing him as he was... the thought alone made him uneasy.


    The third man ran a hand over his bald, sweating head. "Fine. I ain''t against beatin'' the tar out of a rat and a rat lover at the same time." He turned, advancing on Coin and casting a broad shadow over the mimic. He threw a punch, surprisingly quick given his build. Coin side-stepped the swing.


    His counter was swift, his right fist rocketing upward. The flesh and muscles of his knuckles grew larger and denser, drawing on his latent biomass. His hooking punch slammed into the man''s gut, lifting his feet from the ground. A harsh wheeze tore from his mouth, all the air pushed from his body, and he fell to the filthy cobbles in a heap once Coin stepped back.


    The man with the club rushed him next, swiftly crossing the distance. The air whistled around his cudgel as it repeatedly lashed toward Coin, who dodged it with steady and measured steps. He could see the venomous anger in the man''s eyes, the flaring of his nostrils as he furiously pressed the attack.


    Another swing came racing toward his head. Coin''s right arm snapped upward, drawing mass and density toward his upraised limb. The impact sent a jolt through his entire body, the force such that it would have cracked the ulna and radius of a normal man. Coin barely felt it.


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    He had spent years fighting adventurers who were better armed and trained than these fools, people who posed a genuine threat to him. All that muscle memory came rushing back toward him, and he knew at once that these men were no more threatening to him than a trio of angry ants.


    Coin''s palm snapped outward, faster than the eye could see, striking his foe in the chest and sweeping him off his feet. He landed in a heap, crying out and clutching the cracked bones of his ribs.


    The last man had drawn a knife just as that blow connected and was already rushing toward Coin. A flurry of stabs raced toward Coin''s face and neck, but once more the mimic was able to dodge his attacks. He was on the backfoot, the slashes missing him by tiny margins.


    Coin caught him by the wrist and flung his weight with the heft of one arm. The thug''s back slammed into the wall, the jolt nearly knocking the blade from his grasp. He staggered, barely managing to regain his balance. "Y-you little bastard!" the man gasped, swaying uneasily on his feet.


    "I''m warning you one more time to get out of here. Or I''ll have to hurt you." Frankly, Coin thought, the warning was more than he deserved.


    Undaunted, the larger man raced toward him. A stab whistled toward his gut, aiming to tear his belly asunder. Coin dodged again, gritting his teeth, and countered with a harsh punch to the stranger''s face. His nose flattened and broke against Coin''s fist, all the man''s weight being lifted off his feet, as he was spun and tossed to the ground.


    Coin loomed over the three downed men, groaning and writhing on the ground. It took an obscene amount of self control to not give them what they so richly deserved, but he was all too aware of Essine''s presence. And gorging himself in her presence, when he thought about it, seemed like the kind of thing that would horrify her.


    He turned to see the kobold shakily rising to her feet. He was at her side in an instant, gripping her shoulder and forearm to support her modest weight. "Are you... are you alright?" Coin asked.


    Essine was shaking like a leaf. "This one," she swallowed hard, shutting her eyes. "This one took a wrong t-turn... bought some things for you and Elijah. And... and when this one came through here, those men took offence."


    Coin glared towards them. What in the world could Essine have done to warrant that kind of response? He took the time to gather her dropped ingredients, carrying her fallen bags with one arm. He held the other out for her to take, letting Essine''s modest weight rest against him.


    He spared a glance to the fallen men as they reached the mouth of the alley. "If I ever see you again, you''re dead," he warned. With that he turned, leading the terrified kobold to safety.


    Essine looked up at him, her face bruised and bloodied, and she managed a tiny smile. "Thank you, Coin," she softly said. And, looking upon her injured features. Coin knew he could never stand to see any harm ever befall her.


    It wasn''t long until they reunited with Elijah at the inn. The old man got over his initial shock rather quickly, giving Essine some alchemical solution to dull her pain. The kobold fell asleep soon after, the two men seated at the table at the other end of her room.


    The two men ate in silence for some time. Despite the deliciousness of the chicken, Coin felt it provided him little comfort. He munched slowly, unable to push aside the anger that was still stewing in his head.


    "Why did they do it?" he eventually asked.


    "Hm?" Elijah glanced up, frowning.


    "Those men. Why did they attack her? She wasn''t a threat to them. They didn''t accuse her of stealing from them or anything. They just... attacked her?"


    Sighing, Elijah reclined in his creaking chair. "Lad, there are plenty of people in this world who don''t need justification or logic when it comes to their hatred. They disdain others just at the thought of them. They saw an easy target in our Essine, and took advantage of it. Thank goodness you were there." He glanced to her sleeping form. "We''ll need to keep close eye on her. I didn''t things had gotten this bad in Sentinel."


    Coin knit his brow tightly. "But... why? Why would someone hate her that much? She didn''t do anything!" he hissed, struggling to keep his voice down.


    Elijah swallowed a mouthful of thigh, his expression shifting as he tried to articulate the right words. What he wanted to describe was complicated. And while he felt Coin had a good heart, and a good head on his shoulders, he was something of a na?ve foreign bumpkin in Elijah''s eyes.


    "For many people, life is something of a drudgery. It''s hard, full of difficulties that the common man struggles to overcome. In truth, the root cause for their struggles are near-always stemming from the machinations of their rulers," Elijah began, crossing one leg over the other. "But said rulers are generally out of reach, untouchable. Unable to take their frustrations out on them, the common man can be guided to direct their anger at other targets, my lad. Those who won''t fight back, can''t fight back, or are generally seen as easy prey"


    Coin frowned, stealing a glance to the kobold. "Because they could get away with hurting her? Or worse?"


    "Essentially. Guards wouldn''t care too much about a dead kobold, sorry to say." He raised a hand to silence Coin when he opened his mouth. "It''s not fair. I know it isn''t, you know it isn''t. But it''s just... it''s just the way things are."


    Coin stared at him for several quiet moments. "Why?" he eventually asked. "Do things... have to be that way?"


    "It''s the way things are. The way things have been since... before even I was born."


    That didn''t answer his question, didn''t give Coin any sort of comfort. Nor would it comfort Essine. Things could change, Coin told himself. His very existence was proof of that, even if his change had been a freak accident.


    Things could change. And he''d find a way to make them change.

 Chapter 26 - Back Alley Deals

    It was past dusk when Valle Irons left his storehouse, located to the rear of the Merchant''s Quarter. His ring box was tucked comfortably in his coat pocket, and he made a point of regularly checking his pocket every few seconds just to ensure it was still there.


    The risk of pickpockets was still high, after all. But given how damn tricky magic could be, he wouldn''t put it past the promethium ring to magically grow legs and sprint out of his pocket whenever he stopped paying attention.


    Could never be too careful when it came to anything wizard-adjacent. For the entirety of his life, magic had been a perpetual pain for him. It was the bane of any rational layman.


    He bustled carefully through the darkened backstreets, the mouth of each alleyway framed by flickering orange flames from the streetlamps. Rats skulked in the dark, watching him from their haunts with beady eyes. Rats in Sentinel were as likely to pick a mans pocket as a cutpurse was.


    He wished, oh so dearly, to simply go home and sleep. But between the siren call of the tavern, where the promise of liquor was just as tempting as the promise of gambling, and needing to make one final appointment for the night, he knew it would be some time before he could set his head down and close his eyes.


    Valle''s path took him through several winding streets, where he felt his eyes wander and dart to every shadow. Violent crime was rare in the Merchant''s Quarter, particularly when it was compared to Lowtown or the Spokes. But never non-existent.


    Eventually, Valle came to a stop in a trash-strewn back lot, surrounded by burned-out buildings that had been boarded up and abandoned for several months. Hardly glamorous, as far as meeting places went, but certainly isolated and private.


    Darkness surrounded him, and when he peered into that thick blackness there were no signs of life to be found. "Askyr!" he called in a hushed hiss. "Are you there?"


    "Yes, yes. Of course I am. I was the one who set this appointment, after all," a figure said in a languid voice, emerging from the darkness. The air smoked and shimmered around him, shadows melting away to reveal a slim man in a dark jerkin, trousers, and boots. A sword was hitched to his left him, and a silvery scar ran down his right cheek. The eye above it was discoloured, sporting a similar silver sheen.


    Valle took a hesitant step back, staring at the crimson-haired man. "I was... well I wasn''t certain if things had changed. I''m aware your schedule can be rather chaotic, you know."


    Askyr settled his hands on his hips. "If things changed, I''d send a messenger to inform you. It would be foolish not to. I should hope you''re not attempting to second guess me."


    "Ah... of course." Valle swallowed hard and glanced away. "Apologies." Even discounting Askyr''s magical abilities, Valle knew him to be a dangerous man. His connections and resources so vast that he was damn near a deity compared to Valle. A mark was faintly visible under his collar: A skull merged with a five-pointed star.


    Grunting, Askyr made for a stack of discarded lumber and took a seat. "Your last shipment was most welcome," he said, flicking a hand through his hair. "Lord Bleak appreciates your continued cooperation. You have proven to be a valued asset, deserving of continued support. To that end, we need you to gather more armaments for the cause."


    Whatever ''the cause'' was, Askyr had never deigned to provide Valle with too much in the realm of details. For the best, Valle noted. Whatever Askyr was actually involved with, he''d frankly rather not know. But some of the rumours he had heard managed to chill Valle to his very bones.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    He wanted to believe they were just rumours, yet the gruesome tales still haunted him.


    Askyr handed over a folded piece of paper, which Valle opened and promptly read through. Sweat beaded on his brow with rising prominence as he surveyed the high figures being expected of him, which nearly made his head spin.


    "You... you can''t possibly be serious..."


    Askyr looked him in the eye, the sheer power of his glare halting Valle mid-sentence. "Valle, am I wearing a hat with big jingling bells sewn to the fabric?"


    "Er... no?"


    "I see. Then, is my face covered by a thick layer of colourful makeup? Am I wearing a motley, or capering about on all fours while spinning dreadful jokes?"


    Valle paled. "No, sir, you are not."


    His benefactor nodded. "Then what exactly is it that has caused you to mistake me for some kind of troubadour, or jester? Because I would have thought that any order of requisition I give you should be treated as serious, and not some kind of jape. Truly, I am bewildered."


    Silence fell between them. Askyr''s glare could have killed a man. And, in all likelihood, had done so in the past.


    "It''s just..." Valle checked the sheet again, which trembled in his grasp. "The amounts you''re asking me for... this much powder, this much steel... It''s an obscene amount, even with my resources and connections. People will notice!"


    "His lordship is confident in your abilities," the older man simply replied.


    ''His lordship.'' Valle wanted to scoff. Leave it to bandits to style themselves as kings the moment they got a taste of power. Still, he knew better than to be disrespectful. Or to underestimate the wealth Askyr''s employer could call upon.


    "The confidence is appreciated, but that doesn''t change the fact that he wants enough material to fund an army. I know smugglers, and talented men who can cook the books for me, but eventually Archchancellor Velasco''s eye will be drawn by way. And if that happens..."


    There were countless tales of what Velasco did to those who undermined Sentinel. Those who undermined him, specifically, who tried to sneak things under his nose and defy his edicts. The worst part was that many of those tales were barely exaggerations. The best one could hope for was a quick trip to the guillotine. Often called ''Velasco''s parting wave'', always when the archchancellor was nowhere in sight.


    Those who didn''t get a quick execution, well it didn''t bear thinking about.


    "You will be fine, provided you are calm and keep conducting business as usual. Velasco has many fires to put out as it stands, his eye won''t even wander your way," Askyr explained, hooking a thumb into his belt. "And, lest we forget, it''s only by our clemency that your debt collectors have yet to come for you."


    Valle felt his mouth run dry, his pulse immediately spiking. His debts, as ever, hung over his neck like Velasco''s parting wave. A lifetime of gambling and dodgy bets that had sought to rot the foundations of his enterprises. He couldn''t help it, he was a man who remained a victim to his compulsions and greed. And while Askyr''s money and aid had made him seem like a saviour sent by the Goddess herself, he had simply traded one kind of debt for another in the end.


    "I haven''t forgotten," Valle eventually replied, fretting awkwardly with his hands..


    "See to it that you never do," Askyr replied, his voice carrying the weight of countless dead men.


    He spent some moments quietly contemplating his options, all the sources and contacts he had access to. He supposed it would be possible, eventually, to get what he needed. But as he contemplated who he knew, a sudden bolt of inspiration struck him.


    Elijah! Of course, good old Elijah! That man had a finger in every pie, he knew merchants and suppliers from every corner of Arcadia. And the ring in his pocket was the perfect payment for the job!


    An uneasy grin broke out on Valle''s face, but he smothered it before Askyr could see it. "I think I can get what you need in a timely fashion. But I''ll need to call upon some old connections, and it may be... a few weeks to get the entire list completed." Even if he could confirm all those resources, it would still take time to have everything shipped across Arcadia.


    "Fine. Take your time, as long as we receive a steady stream of supplies. I have but one request: Make a sample batch of the ball bearings as soon as possible. Just to ensure they''re built to the precise specifications listed." Askyr was a firm man, and his mere presence sent a shudder racing through Valle''s entire body. But he was, at least, reasonable in some regards. And patient, unlike some of the loan sharks Valle had the displeasure of knowing.


    "Of course, of course," Valle replied with a swift nod. He paused, hesitating and furrowing his brow, while Askyr moved to leave. "Just... one thing." Askyr halted, his back to the weapon merchant. "I''ve heard... stories. Tales of villages being attacked by well-armed hordes. Of towns being assaulted by cannon fire. Is this... is this being done by the resources I''ve supplied you with?"


    Askyr was silent for some time, refusing to look back at him. "The less you know," he eventually replied, "the better." He strode off into the darkness, leaving Valle gripped with a coldness that chilled his very bones.

 Chapter 27 - A Former Friend

    Essine had agreed to stay in the inn during the day, and seemed rather happy to do so. Given what she had gone through last night, it was perfectly understandable. Physically, her injuries weren''t too severe. Bruises and minor cuts.


    Mentally and emotionally, however, she was doing far worse. It wasn''t the first time she''d been attacked by humans, but that hardly made the experience any more pleasant for her.


    But she had been somewhat pleased when Elijah gave her a new dress. It was a simple blue thing, with a many-pocketed white smock. Many women wouldn''t even react if given it as a gift, but Essine had nearly been brought to tears by it. The garment was perhaps the only gift she had gotten in a long time, if ever.


    Coin wished he could do more for her as they were leaving, the fear in her eyes made his stomach twist something fierce. But she had smiled and tried to reassure him, and Elijah said such wounds were not easily mended. It was best, he had reasoned, to give her some time to herself to process what had happened and ideally relax.


    And so they pressed on toward Hightown.


    The Merchant''s Quarter had been a fancy spot, by Coin''s estimation. The streets well cleaned, and the people generally looking rather fancy. But Hightown, even at a glance, made the home of the Mercantile Guild look like a hovel.


    Just about every home they passed was a stately manor, looming massive in size, framed by sculpted statues and fringed by lines of gold. Even the people seemed to be of a different breed compared to those in the Merchant''s Quarter. Beautiful, radiant elves, gnomes and humans adorned in suits even finer than those sold by Rosenstern and Guildencrantz.


    And Coin, deeply impressed by all of this, spent the whole walk looking this way and that with his mouth slightly ajar. Elijah chuckled.


    "Common reaction to seeing Hightown for the first time," said Elijah.


    "It really is massive," Coin murmured. People had the money to own such opulent houses? As soon as the thought hit him, Coin glanced again to his mentor. "Wait... considering how much money you have... do you own a house here too?"


    Elijah gave him a teasing smile. "I may," he replied.


    "But... you''re still paying to stay in an inn?"


    "Indeed. I know it may seem strange to you, lad, but for me... the money was only part of the joy of being a merchant. Living a migratory lifestyle, the thrill of travel and adventure, that''s always been the draw for me." Elijah chuckled. "I''m sure the housekeepers don''t mind my absence too much. Takes some pressure off of them."


    Coin frowned, trying to wrap his head around Elijah''s statement. He supposed it made some sense, even if it was odd from his point of view. All the travelling he had gone through thus far had been an exciting experience for him, exposing the mimic to things he never would have seen before.


    But being able to sit down and relax in a mansion did sound very nice too.


    The Greatglow estate, much to Coin''s shock, somehow loomed larger than the other mansion houses in the area. So much so that it was bordered by a large wall, topped with black iron spikes, with a path to the front door flanked on either side by sculptures of beautiful, and rather curvaceous men and women.


    Fortunately said statues had their nudity tactically covered by sculpted strips of cloth, protecting their modesty. A thin strip of fabric was the dividing line between high society, and baseborn perversion.


    A gnome in a fine suit met them at the date, watching the duo behind the dark lenses of his glasses. "So, you''re the two new aspiring couriers," he said, matter-of-factly.


    "Indeed," Elijah said. "Elijah DiVenture. And this is my apprentice, Coin Thaeka," he explained.


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    "I thought that girl from the Mercantile Guild was playing some kind of joke, but you really are him," the gnome murmured, toying with his skinny moustache. "Very well. The last petitioners will likely be finished soon." He led the way up the path, moving rather quickly on such stumpy legs.


    The interior was even grander than the exterior, the tiled floors buffed to a fine sheen, while the wooden bannister of the spiral staircase gleamed in the light of a hanging chandelier. Coin glanced down the lengths of the various halls they passed, and found each one was dotted with suits of armour and hanging paintings.


    His skin itched. That old primal part of his brain wanted to turn back into a treasure chest, and devour anything golden in his line of sight.


    Eventually, after a walk that felt nearly as long as the walk to the mansion itself, they were led into a sunroom at the back of the house. "Please," the footman said, motioning to an array of padded seats, "make yourselves comfortable." Elijah did so, and Coin followed his lead.


    A slim elven maid offered them a tray with freshly brewed tea in little floral cups, and a stack of plates covered in tiny cakes. She left almost as quickly as she appeared.


    "Well, she does know how to make her guests comfortable," Said Elijah, helping himself to a lemon-scented wedge.


    Coin ate, fighting every natural instinct to shovel fistfuls of food into his mouth. "So Lady Greatglow is a pretty wealthy and important woman, right?" Elijah nodded while slowly sipping his tea. "Then she must have a lot of offers for this job. How are we going to stand out?"


    "Reputation, partially," Elijah replied, sinking into the padded embrace of the chair. "There are a few large mercantile companies in Sentinel these days, all vying to be the top dog and become an official arm of the kingdom under Velasco. In their arrogance and excitement, they''re likely to trip on their own two feet trying to impress such a valuable potential client."


    "So we... want to appear competent and humble," Coin proposed.


    His mentor grinned. "You have a bright future ahead of you. It''s all well and good to take pride in your accomplishments. But high-class clients don''t respond well to arrogance."


    The door at the far side of the sun room creaked open, heralding the entrance of a tall man in a finely-tailored white suit, and slicked back ashen hair. There was a supreme confidence in his eyes, and his smile carried no joy or mirth.


    He was flanked by a marginally taller woman, near as large as Illyana had been, her sleeveless jerkin exposing the scars on her sculpted ebony arms. Her hair was tied in dreads that fell over her broad right shoulders. A sword was sheathed on her hip, the scabbard sporting a series of strange golden symbols hewn into the leather.


    The man''s eyes widened as they settled on Elijah, while his guardian lazily rested her weight on the doorframe. "Well now, as I live and breathe," the man said in a crisp, confident voice.


    "Unfortunately," Elijah growled. His expression sported a bitter anger Coin had never seen from the man before. "I suppose it''s not too surprising to see you here, Ashur."


    "But of course. The Venture Company is the premiere mercantile company of Arcadia, and it''s only natural to make connections with clients as esteemed as Lady Greatglow. Though it''s surprising to see a man so... humble as yourself trying your hand at it." Ashur smiled faintly. "Cute. In a pathetic sort of way."


    Coin clenched his jaw, watching the newcomer warily. Aside from the bandits, this was the first man he''d ever seen mistreat Elijah. Ashur''s guard was dispassionate, folding her arms and watching the flowerpots hanging from the ceiling.


    Ashur seemed to notice him at that moment. "Ah, and who''s this? Some young buck to help your decrepit husk climb up and down the stairs."


    "Keep it up, and this young buck will knock your teeth out," Coin warned. After what had happened to Essine, he was in no mood to see one of his people mistreated.


    That seemed to draw the eye of the mysterious swordswoman, who gripped her curved blade by the hilt. "Your courage will falter in the attempt," she said, her accent thick with a foreign influence alien to Coin.


    "Now now, Yasuko, no need for that." Ashur smiled, but there was a newfound venom in his eyes as they settled on Coin. "Really, Elijah, taking an apprentice on at your age?"


    "I aim to learn from my mistakes this time," Elijah pointedly replied.


    "Mistakes? Oh, my dear old man," his smile vanished, replaced with a mocking sneer. "Nobody likes a sore loser." He turned to leave, his guard following behind him. Her footfalls were silent, despite her size.


    Silence fell between the two men. Coin, eventually, overcame the awkwardness and asked "Who was that?"


    "Ashur Clyde," he replied. "He was once my apprentice."


    Again the two men fell silent. Coin watched the last traces of the man as he vanished into the corridor beyond. "He had my role?"


    "Aye. And when he was younger, he was a good lad. Ambitious, had a great head for numbers, was dutiful. But the money went to his head eventually, and then my company..." He fell silent, his hands briefly trembling with anger. "Sorry, my lad. Best not to talk about him right now. It''ll put me in a foul mood for this meeting. I''ll tell you everything in due time."


    Coin nodded slowly. "And that woman he was with? I can''t recall ever seeing a human like her before." Well, he had seen a few humans and elves with dark skin before. But never ones so... tall.


    "I''d imagine not. It''s rare to find folks like her outside of the far Southlands," said Elijah. "She''s an asimi. They come from the Aseim Steppe, and are... I suppose a mix of human and elf. At least, that''s how the old tales go. Some ancient tribe of humans intermingled with an equally ancient tribe of elves, and many centuries later you have a group of people who are a mixture of... both. Again, so the stories go."


    Coin considered this, picturing the looming woman in his mind''s eye. Illyana had been a considerably strong woman, and Yasuko looked nearly as imposing. As far as bodyguards went, Yasuko certainly cut an impressive figure.


    The footman emerged from the same door Ashur and Yasuko had used. "Her ladyship will see you now." He vanished back the way they came with the practiced swiftness of an upper class servant, who could put assassins to shame.


    Elijah sighed and pushed himself to his feet. "Come on my lad, let''s go. It''s rude to keep a lady waiting."


    Coin helped himself to another lemon cake before going.

 Chapter 28 - Meet Lady Greatglow

    Lady Greatglow was the very image of a gnomish noblewoman, adorned in a silken red dress that had been finely tailored to her modest proportions and marked by a silver trim on her sleeves and skirt. Her dark brown hair was tied back in a pleat and had a few ornamental flowers resting in it. Flowers in the hair were a common fashion trend among gnome women, though hers had been sculpted from fine gold.


    She regarded the two men in silence from behind her half-moon spectacles, slowly sipping her tea. After a long silence she eventually said "I am quite surprised to see that the real Elijah DiVenture has come to visit me. I thought it was some sort of juvenile prank."


    "What, do people often pretend to be me?" he asked, chuckling.


    "It has been known to happen. But you wouldn''t have made it through the gate if Hedgerim thought you were an imposter."


    The footman who had led them nodded from his position by the door. "He can tell?" Coin asked, watching the footman with newfound wariness.


    "He has a keen eye for people." Lady Greatglow took another sip.


    "Well, you are said to be meticulous when it comes to your staff. It''s one of your many admirable qualities," said Elijah, offering her a warm smile.


    "Flattery, is it?" the gnome asked, tilting her head. Her face betrayed no emotion, a mask of carved stone.


    Elijah''s smile didn''t falter. "Sincerity," he calmly replied. "So, please, tell us more about this artwork you want us to ship."


    The older woman was silent for a few moment, her gaze roaming to Coin. The mimic stiffened. He''d fought goblins, adventurers, and rats the size of wolves. Yet they were all far less imposing than the small woman staring at him. "I was told you have an apprentice. He dresses smartly, I suppose, but he doesn''t look impressive otherwise. Hard to believe he''d draw the attention of a man of your stature."


    "There''s more to him than meets the eye," Elijah replied, not seeing the muscles in Coin''s neck tensing. "Good head on his shoulders, a kind heart, and he''s handy in a fight."


    "Hm. Truly," Lady Greatglow replied in a blunt tone. "As to my artwork, well I consider myself a patron of the fine arts. The opera house, for instance, was funded largely by my own money. As is the Fine and Dandy Playhouse, and the Look Here Gallery. I fund painters, sculptors, and musicians."


    "You..." Coin swallowed hard. "You spend quite a lot of money, in that case." Though he couldn''t quite grasp why a human would spend so much on pretty pictures. By the look of them, they weren''t even edible. Not even the ones with food on the canvas.


    "They are worthwhile investments, young man. If I nurture young talent, then the artwork of said talent will grow rather valuable in time. And, moreover, I''ve more than made up what I spent on those institutions from my cut of the profits in ticket sales."


    Investments... Coin rolled the word around in his brain, probed it with a metaphorical tongue as if he was searching for a piece of food caught between his teeth. A way to spend money to make money. If one could find a profitable venture to invest in, at least.


    Elijah had warned him that a poor investment could be ruinous. And there was an inherent risk to being an investor in anything. A sense of responsibility that would dangle overhead, like the blade of a guillotine.


    "In this case, however, I''m selling the works of a young artist who fell out of favour with me. Immensely talented, of course. Alas, he simply couldn''t help himself when it came to women. The scandal!"


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    Elijah feigned shock, pressing a hand to his chest. "Oh, goodness, one of those types? Well I hear artists tend to be... romantic sorts," he said.


    Coin nodded knowledgeably, despite having no idea what in damnation either of them were talking about.


    "Well, at any rate, I can''t stand to look at his works anymore. But a companion of mine, a Ser Gilly Froth, has a fondness for controversial things. So he''s willing to pay a tidy sum for them. Saves me having to get the things burned. The sum between us has already been agreed upon, but getting the things safely shipped northward has been another matter entirely."


    "Uh..." Coin raised a hand. "Well... I know the roads are dangerous but there''s probably plenty of mercenaries who could make the trip safer."


    "Indeed. And were it not for Archchancellor Velasco''s laws dictating that shipments and sales of a certain value require oversight and involvement from the Mercantile Guild, I would likely have gone that route," she replied.


    "Velasco likes to keep a close eye on the wealthiest folks of Sentinel. Trying to move large quantities of gold under his nose is rather... unwise," said Elijah.


    Coin slowly nodded. Everything he''d heard about Velasco made him increasingly uneasy. The man who''d taken the reins of the kingdom during the chaos of a revolution, and since then had secured his newfound throne with great care and effort. He doubted he''d enjoy ever meeting the man.


    "So. As you can imagine, many individuals are seeking to take this job. It''s a healthy payout promised, and it will reflect well on the reputation of any man who can do the job successfully. But why should I entrust the task to you, as oppose to the larger companies who have petitioned me? You have a grand reputation, Elijah, but you are just two men."


    Coin was about to say ''two men and a kobold'', but he doubted that would have gone over well.


    An idea popped into his head, and the mimic spoke without thinking. "Those other companies... they''re large, they''re resourceful, but they''re arrogant. They don''t actually care about what you want, or you as a client."


    The gnome tilted her head, her brows perking slightly. "Oh?" she asked. Elijah was staring at him with a blank expression.


    "Well, I mean... when that last guy came out, seemed to me he wasn''t impressed by you, or your home. He just saw you as a chance to make some money. A man like that, I feel, would do a poor job. His heart wouldn''t be in it, he''d just try and get the job done in a cheap and lazy way. Elijah and me, well, we put a lot of care towards any client we work with. If we take this job for you, it''ll be the most important thing in the world to us."


    "Eloquent," Lady Greatglow said, nodding her head slowly. "I admire the passion of your words. But, in my experience, words can very easily be hollow."


    "Yes, well, you can certainly expect such hollowness from men like Ashur. Nobody knows that man better than I... Where once he was trustworthy and kind, now he''d sell his own mother to the Bleak if he got a few coins from it."


    "And yet you were the one who taught him?"


    "For a time. And in my arrogance I did not see the greed slowly enveloping his heart," Elijah replied. "And by the time the rebellion happened... well, I''m sure you know what happened there."


    Lady Greatglow nodded. "Indeed." She chose not to elaborate further. Perhaps things would have made more sense to Coin if he had become a human a few years earlier.


    "For me, it was never about the money. It was always about... the adventure. And you know my reputation. You know I''ve never failed a client," Elijah added.


    "I don''t doubt your dedication to the job. But security is something I wish to consider. And I have to question the security two men alone can provide."


    Coin raised a hand. "Well... we can deal with any threats on the road. I''m... a wizard," he admitted. And, to prove his point, he cupped his hands and focused intently on them. A pulse ran down his arms, followed by a small cyclone of wind blossoming between his palms. The gnome watched him, her expression unmoving.


    Then, eventually, she motioned to the footman who took her cup away without a word. "Someone with magic becoming a merchant is certainly a rarity," she mused, tilting her head.


    "Our Coin is a unique lad. And I know for a fact that he can take most anyone in a fight. In fact, I saw him take out an entire group of bandits." He hadn''t seen it at all. But in business there was no harm in a little white lie to grease the wheels, apparently.


    Lady Greatglow pursed her lips, reclining in her chair and making it faintly creak. "Yet you chose to become a merchant''s apprentice, rather than a wizard''s. That says something about your character, but I''m not sure what."


    "Well... speaks to his commitment to the world of commerce, doesn''t it?" Elijah asked, chuckling.


    The gnome steepled her fingers together under her chin, watching Coin with such intensity that the mimic couldn''t help but squirm. He still managed to hold her gaze, despite his concerns. "Alright," she eventually said. "Considering your reputation, Ser DiVenture, and the fact that your apprentice has magic on his side... I will entrust the delivery to your discretion."


    Elijah''s smile broadened, excitement alight in his eyes. "Truly?"


    "Of course. If I''m being frank, Ashur is a horse''s ass. And there''s no doubt in my mind that Trask Millien of the Vendor''s Association is a wretched drug user."


    "He certainly was the last time I saw him," Elijah noted. "Well, worry not Lady Greatglow, we''ll get the job done."


    "See to it that you do. I''m entrusting my valuables to you largely because of your reputation, Ser DiVenture." She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes as she looked at Elijah. The old man grew tense under her scrutiny. "A reputation that, I assure you, will be thoroughly destroyed if you fail me."

 Chapter 29 - Punch an Ogre

    In the aftermath of her disappointing encounter in the Adventurer''s Guild, Illyana had gathered some of her funds and used them to buy a horse. Nothing too fancy, just a stalwart auburn nag who didn''t mind carrying the weight of an armoured elf on her back.


    Varis had followed after her, astride a sleek white horse laden with supplies. When Illyana had asked him why he was following her, he merely replied that he was bored and that a trip up to Sentinel promised to be exciting if nothing else.


    It would have been a pain to chase him off, so Illyana simply endured his presence. It helped that the rogue was a skilled hunter, and they never wanted for provisions. They pressed on north, toward Sentinel.


    Every time they stopped in a village, or at a roadside inn, there was a new horror story about goblins being told. Trade caravans being ambushed, villages being bombed, religious temples being desecrated. Illyana often took every tale she heard from travellers with enough pinches of salt to generously season a roast dinner, but she knew from experience that she couldn''t write off the goblin stories entirely.


    If they destroyed one town, they would likely destroy others if given the chance.


    It was past high noon as they reached the crest of a tall hill, beyond which the winding road to Sentinel was rather direct. Indeed, the city cut an imposing figure on the horizon, with the Obelisk standing like an upraised sword that cleaved the sky. Illyana strained in the saddle, glimpsing the city above the rows of trees that stretched ahead of them.


    "Been a long time since I was last here," Varis calmly mused. He reached into the canopy of trees overhead, plucking a palm-sized fruit from the branch. He pulled a tiny knife from his belt, where he seemed to have a never-ending surplus of blades of every shape and size, and set about slicing the yellow skin away. "Sentinel''s a fine place. Assuming you don''t end up on the wrong side of someone."


    "And I assume you ended up on the wrong side of someone?" Illyana asked as she rocked idly in the saddle.


    Varis chuckled, plucking a wedge of citrus on the tip of his knife. "Perhaps. I am something of a naughty lad from time to time. On paper I''m a low-ranked member of the Adventurer''s Guild. But I have my hobbies and pursuits outside of that."


    Crime, most likely, Illyana noted. He likely wasn''t a cutthroat or an assassin, he was much too sane to be a member of the Brotherhood of Daggers. But a man with his skills could still go far doing illicit work under the table. It was possible, even, that he had ties to the Strays.


    Well, it didn''t much matter to her. So long as he kept his blades to himself, he was a useful ally. If irritating.


    "You don''t have a bounty on you, do you?" she asked.


    "Oh, no, not at all." He paused, quietly chewing a piece of fruit. "Well, not that I''m aware of. I did, nearly, end up in a pot of boiling water for my troubles. But I think I got out before anyone could get a good look at my face. And nobody has come looking for me, after all."


    Illyana paused, giving him a sideways look. "What... exactly were you in the process of doing?" the elf asked.


    "Nothing bad. Nothing violent, at least. But, well, when you try to take something from a wealthy individual, the lawmen treat that about the same as committing a murder."


    "Mm. True enough." She was about to ask for more when her pointed ears suddenly twitched, picking up on the sound of frantic footsteps racing their way from further up the road. She narrowed her eyes, slowly reaching up to grip the hilt of her claymore.


    A figure burst from the brush, red-faced and sweating. An arc of dried blood had fallen across his nose and fleshy cheeks. At once Illyana could recognise his priestly white robes, with a diamond pattern stitched above his heart.


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    He came to a skidding halt just before Illyana''s horse. "A knight! Oh, thank goodness! The Goddess herself, in my hour of most dire of need, sends a divine envoy to protect me!"


    "Oh, great," Varis muttered, "a preacher."


    Illyana watched him warily. "What''s going on?" she asked. Only a split second later, the noise of a weighty footstep echoed through the woodlands. The elf tensed, gripping and unlatching her claymore. Another footstep shook the trees. Then another, and another, until the branches of the nearby trees began to shake.


    The preacher inched between the two, trembling as he watched the bend in the road. Varis cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should try and find another way around?"


    The treeline erupted as a large orange figure burst forth, shoving a tree out of his way with enough force to dislodge it from the ground. Illyana dismounted in a flash, blade raised, and watched the approaching ogre with widening eyes. He was dressed as savagely as his kin usually were, crude fur boots and a loincloth. But what caught Illyana''s eyes was the symbol branded to his sloping gut. The same symbol from the flag recovered from Glain.


    In his hand he held a wooden cudgel nearly the size of Varis'' body. His left hand was drenched in slowly drying blood, definitely not his own. The ogre halted, staring at the trio with his burning ruby eyes. "Th-that beast!" the preacher exclaimed. "That demon from the Bleak! He killed my cohorts, my horse! And now he comes for me! Stop him!"


    The ogre nodded, grinning to expose rows of broad, yellow teeth. Fog smoked from his jaws. "Yeah. I kill little humans. Now I kill you. Then I eat horsies."


    "This is a cut above my paygrade," Varis muttered, awkwardly gripping the handle of his billhook. He sat rigid in the saddle, debating whether it would be better to run, or try his luck in a fight.


    "P-please, save me!" the preacher cried.


    Illyana sighed, trying to ignore the distinct scent of urine coming from the man. No point trying to argue or persuade an ogre. She spread her feet in the dirt, lifting her claymore and aiming the tip at the creature''s stomach.


    She had fought ogres in the past. They were as strong as they were stupid, where even a glancing blow could prove fatal. Their scales were dense, but they were softer around the belly.


    She braced and dashed forth, ducking into a slide to dodge a swing from the ogre''s cudgel. The warped edge struck the trunk of a tree, splitting it clean in in half. Illyana''s blade swept up, aiming to bury the edge in his midriff, but the ogre withdrew and was only nicked on the hip. He snorted, portions of a sliced scale dropping to the ground.


    Illyana threw herself into a roll, avoiding a crushing blow from the cudgel that tore a furrow in the soil. Her counter was swift, a swing that grazed the ogre''s back. His scales were tougher than stone, and the slash barely drew a drop of blood.


    This went on for some time, a swift back and forth between both parties. Illyana dodged each swing, the repeating blows uprooting chunks from the ground. And for every strike she dodged, she landed a fresh cut on the ogre''s body. Blood seeped from several points in his scales, yet this did little to hinder him. And he was smart enough to keep his belly guarded. And with the melee so frantic, Varis didn''t have a chance to get a shot off at him.


    Not that a crossbow bolt would have done much to an ogre''s dense hide.


    "Fast elfy-woman," the ogre said, grinning. "Can''t kill me though. Too weak!" He swept his club through the dirt, kicking up a blinding cloud that washed over Illyana before she could react. And, while she tried to dodge, a harsh blow lifted her off her feet and smashed her into a boulder just off the side of the road. It fractured beneath her.


    Illyana gasped, struggling shakily to her feet. She blinked the blindness from her eyes, to see that several plates of her armour had been crumpled by the strike. Blood seeped from her arm. And, even more concerning, her claymore had been knocked from her hands in the process. She grit her teeth.


    Nothing broken, she knew at once, but half of her body ached something fierce. Another hit like that, and she wouldn''t get up again. She struggled to her feet, swaying uneasily, as the cackling ogre advanced on her.


    "Shit," Varis huffed, fumbling to draw his crossbow from his saddle.


    Illyana stood erect, raising her fists. And, with her back against the wall, she had no choice but to dig deep into herself again. Her magic, such as it was, had rendered her a source of mockery in Thallborea, and shame in Clan Rosso. She could not help being born with stunted magic. But her limited capability at least gave her the means to boost her physical abilities. Even if the recoil was bound to sting like a bitch when she stopped burning magic through her body.


    The elf raced forward with a burst of speed, so swift that the incoming over had no time to brace. Her mailed fist crashed into his stomach, the impact like that of a warhammer, knocking the air from the ogre''s lungs and forcing him to his knees. She caught the ogre with a right hook, then a left, each punch snapping the ogre''s head in a different direction and coating her gauntlets with splashes of blood.


    She hooked her hands together and swung them in unison. The impact smashed the ogre in the face, lifting him off his feet and flinging his bulk several meters away. He hit the ground with a thunderous crash, skidding to a halt.


    The burning magic faded from her body, causing Illyana to sag forward and huff for breath. She staggered for her sword and lifted it, heedless of the shocked stares from Varis and the preacher.


    The ogre slowly rose to one knee, groaning. He snorted deeply through the thin slits of his nostrils and spat out a gob of blood and a chunk of broken teeth. He grinned at Illyana, as she hesitantly raised her blade.


    "You strong, elfy-woman. I like strong. Respects it," he said, blood oozing from the crooked edges of his mouth.


    Illyana braced herself as best she could, expecting another attack. Yet, it never came. Instead, the towering beast turned and stalked off toward the brush, leaving Illyana and her companions standing in dumbstruck silence. Tree branches and shrubs were shoved aside by his girth and closed behind him to obscure his departure.


    "Well," Varis eventually said in a low voice. "I think you may have just made a friend, Illyana."

 Chapter 30 - An Evolution Sermon

    The trio pressed on, at a slow and wary pace. It hadn''t taken long for them to find the remains of the preacher''s convoy, where a group of armed men had been smashed to a pulp by the rampaging ogre. The carriage had been turned over and reduced to smithereens.


    There was no trace of the horses. No doubt they''d be slow roasted later. If it was meaty, ogres would eat it. It seemed unlikely that it had been a planned ambush, there were no traces of crossbow fire that marked the other ambushes Illyana had seen.


    It was likely just damn bad luck on the part of the travellers, who had the misfortune of crossing an ogre who had been going about his business.


    The preacher followed them at a brisk trot. Neither of them were willing to give him a ride on horseback. It was generally seen as a poor choice to let strangers reeking of urine on the back of your horse. But the preacher was jovial all the same, beaming up at Illyana with his hands clasped in prayer.


    "You truly are magnificent, fair maiden! A Varangian dispatched by the Goddess herself, to save me in my hour of need!"


    "I was just in the right place at the right time. Don''t think there was much in the way of divine intervention at work there," Illyana replied.


    "Ah, but it was Her divine will who guided your movements to be there at the right time!"


    Illyana rolled her eyes. The Goddess, evidently, hadn''t been in much of a rush to get her there in time to protect the preacher''s guardians. Or to not have an ogre stumble upon them in the first place.


    "You''re not going to read the death rites to your fallen guards? Or burn their bodies?" Varis asked, maintaining a sly smirk.


    "Ah, well, it''s... much too dangerous to do that. After all, that ogre could come back at any moment. I''ll be sure to send a message to my cohorts, and we''ll be sure to send along some soldiers to retrieve their remains."


    "I''m sure," Varis replied.


    An involuntary shudder ran through the portly priest. "Gruesome business, and dark times we''re living in. Where even men of the faith are attacked by Bleak-born souls. Goblins, ogres, other monstrosities... sinners reborn to continue their endless cruelty."


    "Dark times ahead," Illyana simply replied. And bound to be darker if the archchancellor and his people didn''t take it seriously.


    "I am Preacher Elgaris. So very happy to formally meet you."


    "I''m Illyana. He''s Varis. Stick close to us, if you wish. Provided you don''t try to lead a sermon in our presence."


    By sunset, well aware that it was too risky to keep going in the dark, they made camp in the fading glow of the sun. Illyana had seen to their camp, lighting a campfire and grilling some meat above it. Varis, in turn, was setting up snares and noisemakers in the perimeter of their camp. Just in case anything thought to get clever with them in the night.


    And Elgaris, who had snagged some replacement britches from his overturned wagon, took the time to get changed for shame''s sake.


    By the time the meat was starting to brown, Illyana had removed her armour and protective gear from the waist up, revealing the red shirt she wore beneath. She held a pauldron in one hand, sighing as she surveyed the warped dents in the steel.


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    "Damnation," she muttered. Her injuries could have been far worse, she knew, but it was still unfortunate to have her armour damaged so severely. That suit had saved her life plenty of times, and hadn''t been cheap. Setting the damaged armour aside and rolled her sleeve, grimacing at the various dark purple bruises she saw.


    And the ache in her back made it clear she''d find more there too.


    "Goodness," Elgaris said in a low voice. "I feel rather poor to see you injured on my behalf. Fortunately I''m a healer at the temple. If you''d like, I could mend your wounds. Consider it a humble form of recompense for saving my life."


    Some people would likely be elated at the thought of having their injuries being instantly healed via magic. Those same people had never had the misfortune of being healed with magic.


    Indeed, Illyana would have likely preferred to take the time to heal naturally. But if she were to be attacked in the night by goblins, or another ogre, she couldn''t afford to be wincing and grimacing with pain.


    So, sighing, she reached into her pack and pulled out a spare belt. She bit firmly into the leather and gave Elgaris a nod.


    He clasped his hands and briefly glanced to the night sky. "Oh noble Goddess, this humble servant beseeches-" Illyana glared at him, the prayer quickly sputtering away. He raised his hands toward her, a halo of shimmering white light forming at his palms.


    To those who had never seen of experienced healing magic firsthand, the whole thing was likely something from a fairy tale. Noble and kindly healers who would twiddle their fingers and instantly heal any ailment. The reality was marginally more difficult, and far more painful for the person on the receiving end of the spell.


    Firstly, a healer was expected to have some knowledge of the injury or ailment they were trying to heal. Cuts, bruises, and fractures were simple enough. Every novice at the Ivory University could grasp that. But directing magical energy into a wound, which took focus and effort on the part of the healer, rendered the nerves hypersensitive. And in an instant those sensitive nerves would feel a rush of their prior pain from the injury, coupled with the pain that would come from a natural recovery.


    Illyana bit down harshly on the belt, embedding teethmarks in the leather, her whole body shuddering from the seconds of sharp pain that radiated through her whole body. When it ended she swayed, sagging against a nearby tree. She spat the belt from her mouth. "Thanks," she gruffly said, her face slick with sweat.


    Elgaris let out a nervous laugh. "Of course, of course. A minor form of thanks for a job well done."


    She was grateful, of course, but it was hard to feel much gratitude in the moment. She rolled her shoulder a few times, relieved at how fluid the motions were. She may have doubted Elgaris'' piety, but she couldn''t deny his efficiency as a healer.


    "So, Preacher," Varis said as he emerged from the undergrowth. "What had you heading out this way?"


    "Ah, well..." Elgaris replied, lifting a rag from his belt and dabbing his forehead. "There was an attack at a logging camp some leagues from here. Goblin work, no doubt, left the bodies in a very ghoulish state. I was to perform funeral rites on the dead, burn the bodies and dispel any lingering, malevolent spirits."


    "Huh. Awful lot of goblin attacks, these days," Illyana bitterly noted, pressing her back to a tree. The pain in her body was slowly fading into a tingling numbness.


    "We have been having an interesting year so far," Varis said, taking a seat by the slowly crackling flame. "What do you make of it, Preacher? Judgement from the divine?"


    "Aye, most likely," Elgaris said with a humble bow of his head. "Goblins and their ilk are manifestations of the Bleak, born from human avarice and sin. And so, when the population embrace the teachings of the Goddess again, the creatures will recede and weaken."


    Illyana gave the portly man an annoyed look. People deserved to be slaughtered because they weren''t faithful enough? Human religion had often been strange to her, far more complex and moralising than the worship of ancestors and spirits common among her people. And while some of the tales interested her, she generally found herself disgusted by some of the casual cruelty and disdain human preachers could show. If someone died, no matter how horrible their fate was, they must have done something to deserve it in the eyes of a priest.


    "Maybe there''s more to it," Illyana mused, resting her hands behind her head. "Maybe the goblins are starting to get smarter?"


    Elgaris scoffed, making for the flickering flames. "Goblins? Getting smarter?" The concept alone must have sounded absurd to most. "They''re vermin, dear lady elf. Smart enough to kill and maim people, aye, but that''s all they can do. They''re mortal sin given a physical form, violence and cruelty made flesh. They cannot evolve to be more than that."


    "There was a time when we were violent apes who lived in caves. And we evolved beyond that too." Varis few a flask from his belt and took a few long sips. "Sounds familiar to me," he eventually said.


    "That is quite different, ser," the preacher brusquely replied. "We are humans. They are goblins."


    "Ah." Varis grinned mockingly. "My mistake."


    Illyana watched the preacher warily. She had no doubt his views would be the norm among the people in Sentinel. The norm among anyone who hadn''t seen, firsthand, a town wiped off the map by goblins. She did not know how, or why, but the goblins were clearly growing smarter and more coordinated. That, or they had someone organising them into a more competent threat.


    They and their ilk were fast evolving from nuisances to menaces. And the problems would only get worse if folks like Elgaris buried their heads in the sand about it.


    "We''ll help you get to Sentinel, Preacher. But after that, I''d advise you not to leave the city walls for some time," Illyana warned.

 Chapter 31 - Shiny New Ring

    Coin and Elijah met with Valle Irons the next morning, at the patio of a coffee house just on the outskirts of the Merchant''s Quarter. He looked haggard, his beard and hair unkempt while the collar of his expensive shirt was left rumpled and disorderly. In the dull morning sunlight, a thin sheen of sweat gleamed on his forehead.


    "Rough night?" Elijah asked, managing a sympathetic smile.


    Valle gave him an annoyed look. "Grab a drink if you''re grabbing one. And let''s talk business, like gentlemen." He sat restless, drumming the fingers of his free hand on the surface of the table.


    Coin and Elijah exchanged a curious look, but decided to oblige him. He would admit that the smell inside the coffee house was quite pleasant, a warm and inviting aroma that tickled the insides of his nostrils. He could even recall the same scent from his monster days, with adventurers brewing kettles of coffee almost as soon as they broke camp after a long rest. Cost, as ever, was no object for Elijah as he purchased two cups of a steaming black liquid for them.


    Yet, when he sat down across from the arms dealer and took a sip, Coin''s tastebuds were assaulted by a flavour so bitter and foul that it made goblin sweat seem palatable in comparison. He removed the cup from his lips and glared into the jet black liquid, fearing something was horribly wrong with it. Had he been poisoned?!


    And yet his two companions were drinking without a care. Coin spared another glance to his coffee. Humans willingly drank this slop?!


    "So, business?" Elijah asked, tilting his head. "I was under the impression we had an agreed upon sum."


    "I have changed my mind. I''m, of course, willing to sell you the ring, but I need something more important than money. It''s, well, from an issue that''s come up rather abruptly for me."


    "Go on," Elijah said, his expression shifting into an unreadable mask.


    "A... valued client requires a large quantity of black powder from me. And given the chaos on the roads, my supplies are rather... disrupted at the moment." the dealer said, a myriad of emotions subtly flickering at his face. "But I know what you can do. I know you have connections that would make a demigod''s head spin. So if anyone can help me, it''s you."


    "Black powder?" Coin asked, cocking his head to the side.


    "An explosive substance used for making bombs and firing cannons," Elijah offhandedly said. "And rather valuable, as a result. But, yes, I have connections involved in its manufacturing. Shouldn''t be too hard to wrangle a bit. And for a promethium ring? I think a few barrels should be sufficient."


    Coin leaned toward his mentor, giving his coffee another wary look as he did so. "Would that be more... cost efficient than using gold?"


    Elijah shrugged. "A bit. I do have favours to call in, after all. Should make the process easier. And we''re heading northward, anyway. Two birds with one stone."


    This seemed satisfactory to Valle, who planted a palm-sized sculpted wooden box onto the table. "Then I shall pay you in advance, as thanks for being so understanding."


    Elijah slid the box to Coin who graciously opened it. The silvery band of meteorite metal shone brilliantly. Even the dull sunlight of the early morning, the smallest bit of light glittered on it. Dirt and discoloration seemed to actively be repelled by the stainless substance. He slid it onto his right ring finger and felt a shudder as it made contact with his bare flesh.


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    He had not thought much of the magic in his body, in the past. It was formless and chaotic, a roiling storm cloud that could only be directed through great conscious effort on his part. Now, however, all that vast energy was circulating cleanly through his body like blood through a network of veins and arteries.


    Coin raised his hand. With a casual thought, a miniature cyclone danced on his palm. Electricity crackled along the edges. "Damnation," he muttered, awestruck by the ease of it all.


    His mentor gave him a sly smirk. "Think we''ve got a good resource on her hands now. But don''t forget to keep your studies going." He moved to stand but, as he did so, he gave Valle a cautious look. "You''re not... in trouble right now, are you?" he asked warily.


    The other merchant stared up at them, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he came out with a response. "What are you insinuating?"


    "You claim to know me, well I know you just as well. And I know full well that your gambling and borrowing has landed you in hot water before." He pointed a warning finger at him. "I''ll tell you now, I have no interest in supplying wares to criminal enterprises. And if I get a whiff that this is going toward an unsavoury group, I''ll return the ring and leave you high and dry."


    Coin nodded along. His reading had gotten good enough to have a decent grasp on the guild charter, which was very stern in advising people against doing merchant work with criminals. Being a third party to such a deal, unknowingly, was allowed... if the magistrates believed you to be ignorant.


    "I''m offended by the implications of that!" Valle replied.


    "As is your right to be. But it doesn''t change facts."


    "Well... if it''s used for weapons, only people who use of make them would take a large supply of the stuff," Coin reasoned. "So.. it could be something legitimate." Or, just as likely, giving explosive powder to criminals.


    Elijah seemed to be thinking the same thing, regarding Valle with his head tilted to one side.


    "I assure you," he said in a tone like ice, "that I am merely doing a favour for a friend. No more, no less." Silence lingered in the patio outside the coffee house.


    Elijah gave him a blunt nod. "Very well. I''ll make arrangements in the coming days. I assume you''ll want them sent to your usual storehouse?"


    "Naturally," he replied.


    "Good to know. Give it time and I''ll complete my end of the bargain. I always do. Come along, lad."


    As they left, and once they were a modest distance away, Coin gave his mentor a quick aside. "I''m not sure I trust him," the mimic admitted. Which was a common reaction when it came to death merchants, unsurprisingly.


    "Mm. He''s a good man, at heart, but certainly foolhardy at times. A fellow gripped by his own vices. Grappled with him near most of his life. For some men, nothing is ever enough." Elijah sighed and tilted his head back. "He could have risen much higher in the world if he had some impulse control."


    Coin raised his hand and inspected his new ring as they walked along. "Well, I''ll trust your judgement on it. I just hope we don''t get bitten by it."


    Elijah chuckled. "My. A fancy new piece of jewellery, and already you second guess me? They grow up so fast."


    They returned to the inn to find Essine seated on the bed, her nose buried in one of Elijah''s tomes. An abundance of papers were positioned around her, covered from end to end with rows of neatly written text.


    She perked up at their approach. "Oh, is it time to go?"


    "Er, yes, we were just about to head to the stables." Coin looked to the pages at Essine''s side, and then to the graphite clutched in her clawed fingers. "What are you doing?"


    Essine managed a nervous smile, her ears flattening slightly. "Ah, well, this one... this one did not have much to do. So reading the words and copying them down seemed a good way to spend the time."


    As she said this, Elijah lifted a sheet of paper and quietly inspected it. His eyes widened slightly. "You... can read the common language? And write it?"


    The kobold slowly nodded. "Language is sacred to our people," she said simply.


    "And... can other kobolds do this?" asked Coin.


    She nodded again, surprised that it was such a big deal to the two. "Language is sacred to our people," she repeated.


    Elijah hummed. "Never learned much about kobold culture, if I''m being honest. Might be some kind of innate magical talent."


    The mimic let out a small sigh. "I wish I could do that." Though, if it was a genetic talent, it was possible he could do the same by eating a kobold. On a pragmatic level, that seemed like a good idea. On a moral level, it left Coin slightly uncomfortable now.


    "Well, my lass, we may have more use of you in the future," Elijah said with a chuckle. "But, for now, we had best hurry on. Lady Greatglow won''t appreciate us being late."


    Nodding, the kobold hastily gathered the pages and set them inside the leatherbound tome. With that, the trio quickly finished packing up their things. It would be a trip of a few days to reach Lady Greatglow''s buyer, after all. No sense in keeping their rented room.


    "We still have most of our supplies set, but..." Elijah hummed and glanced to Coin. "Well, this diversion from Valle may add a bit more to our journey. Coin," he handed up a small clinking bag weighted with ducats. "Head up the street to a shop called Parsar''s. It''s a general goods shop. You''ll know it for the big silver sign hanging above the door. Buy us a few cans and tins of preserved food. Just in case we need them."


    "Well," Coin held the bag of gold in his hands, the most beautiful weight he ever could have imagined. He gave his mentor a smirk. "I''ll see what I can do."

 Chapter 32 - Thats a Gorilla

    Having spent most of the ducats Elijah had given him, Coin left Parsar''s store carrying a canvas bag weighted with neatly stacked tins of preserved meat and fish. A weight that most normal humans would struggle, at least partially with. But Coin scarcely felt it on his forearms. Canned, preserved food was apparently something of a recent invention. Certainly, Coin couldn''t recall seeing any adventurers eating tinned food in the past.


    But as he left the store, he very nearly walked face first into a gorilla.


    The towering ape loomed a few paces from the store''s entryway, his knuckles braced against the cobblestones. Uncommonly, for an ape, he was clothed. His raven fur was starkly contrasted by a tailored white jerkin, a red cape resting over his right shoulder. His belt was covered by an assortment of pouches and pockets.


    Despite having a physique that could tear a man in half like wet paper, he regarded Coin with an uncanny intelligence in his eyes, and bore the tranquillity of an undisturbed pool of water. This wasn''t just some wild animal who had wandered onto the busy streets of Sentinel.


    Coin stared at the ape in turn, blinking a few times as if expecting the creature to vanish the next time he opened his eyes. And while a few people also watched the gorilla in passing, it was only with mild intrigue. Apparently he was something of a common sight to the citizens of Sentinel, which somehow made the entire situation stranger to Coin.


    "H-hello?" Coin eventually asked.


    "You are... Master Coin, yes?" the gorilla asked, in a snorting voice that partially struggled to grasp human speech. His great face shifted as he spoke, displaying a look of curiosity.


    "I... am," Coin hesitantly replied. Were it not for the weight resting in his arms, he would have thought he was dreaming. This was, after all, a creature unlike any he''d seen before in his entire life.


    The gorilla nodded stiffly. "Jolly good. I am Merrick Vaust, a local wizard," he replied.


    "You''re..." he winced and recoiled a bit. "Not a human." Well, it wasn''t like he was one to judge, but he could at least blend in.


    Merrick narrowed his eyes. "I am aware." He raised a massive, leathery hand, motioning toward himself. "My... transmogrification, such as it is, came as a result of a duel with another wizard, leaving me with the countenance of a gorilla. Casus magici, to use the official term. But I came to quite enjoy the strength and agility that comes with this form. Thus, I have chosen to stay this way."


    "I see," Coin replied, taking the most insane thing he''d ever heard in his life in stride. "Then, can I help you?"


    "A cohort of mine, a witch known as Scylla, told me that an individual with impressive potential was coming to Sentinel. And so I was intrigued for a chance to see this potential for myself," Merrick explained.


    Coin blinked in surprise, thinking back on the enigmatic yet kindly woman. "Oh, well, that''s a surprise. But, yes, I know her. I guess wizards and witches keep in touch with each other?"


    The gorilla shrugged his massive shoulders. "Some do. It is a matter of whom you are willing to tolerate." His gaze briefly darted to the bag clutched in Coin''s arms. "I see you are busy. But would you perhaps be willing to give me a moment of your time, so that I may see your abilities for myself?" he asked.


    "I suppose I can. As long as it''s quick. We have a job we need to get started on," Coin replied. He looked from side to side. "Only... magic is kind of destructive. We might need somewhere more isolated if I''m really going to show off."


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    Merrick snorted and ambled around, moving about on his knuckles and feet. "Follow me," he instructed. And, as he did so, Coin couldn''t help but notice the promethium rings that glittered on his hands and feet. One ring per limb.


    He followed the gorilla to a vacant lot behind a set of stores, the walls marked by piles of refuse that had flies swarming about. Merrick halted, maintaining the same beastly posture. Coin set his supplies beside the ape. "Please," he said in a low voice. "Show me."


    Coin nodded and raised his right hand. He had kept up his studies, improving his comprehension of Scylla''s tome as his literacy grew more pronounced. There was still much he had yet to learn, but the fundamentals made more sense to him now.


    A cyclone erupted around Coin''s feet, swirling winds that flapped at the tails of his coat. Then, rather suddenly, coils of electricity strobed up the length of his splayed fingers. He focused firmly on his palm, clenching his jaw tight from the mounting exertion. A crackling ball of lightning blossomed to life in his hands, releasing a glow that dispelled the shadows on the edges of the back lot.


    Magic, as the books described it, was regarded as a form of mental mathematics. It was a case of knowing the nature of the spell you were trying to form, and sculpting the dimensions of a spell in your mind''s eye. As the act of channelling magic led to the mind and body passively becoming quicker, a talented wizard could sculpt rather complex spells in the blink of an eye.


    Exhaling, Coin let the balled lightning float from his hand. Then, with a thought, he let it orbit around his waist, the speed of its movements gradually growing faster.


    The sight made Merrick grin, his upper lip curling like a flap to reveal rows of sharp, yellow teeth. "Fascinating. Scylla spoke true. You have the skills like a novice, at least, but the power I can sense radiating through your body... it''s like that of a seasoned master," the ape said. "You''re a rare breed."


    "I suppose I am," Coin replied, his brow knit. He released his hold on the crackling sphere, which burst like a water balloon and sprayed a slew of sparks onto the cobbles. "But learning it solo is long and hard."


    "Aye? And do you need a master, perhaps?" Merrick replied, tilting his head to the side.


    "I already have one. More interested in being a merchant than a wizard, honestly," he replied in a low voice. "But I''m grateful for the concern."


    Merrick gave him a firm nod. "Very well. I shall not force you. But I must still firmly insist that you continue to practice your grasp of magic. Until you can control it as easily as you control your own breathing." As he spoke, he took a scroll from his belt. A gust of wind danced on his palm, lifting it and carrying it toward Coin''s grasp.


    He examined it, and found an assortment of figures and lines of text elegantly displayed on the parchment. Basic spells of storm magic, accompanied by detailed illustrations of humanoid figures performing the described motions. Powerful gusts of wind that could shred stones into powder, bubbles of air pressure to ward off projectiles, rolling waves of crushing thunder that could be thrown from the palm...


    And, at the very bottom of the scroll, sat instructions for a set of meditation instructions to sharpen the mind and emphasize mental, emotional control. A core tenet of wizardry, according to the listed instructions.


    "Why give me this?" Coin asked, raising a brow.


    Merrick rose to his full height, with a posture that looked uncanny on the stooping, sloping frame of a gorilla. He clasped his massive hands behind his back. "Control is a necessity for every wizard. The power will never leave you if you are born with it, and you must live with it. As such, the risk of losing control of yourself is never zero."


    Coin slowly nodded. He didn''t need to think to hard to imagine how devastating wild magic could be. A wizard under intense emotional turmoil, lashing out with their own magic... the destruction would be like a maelstrom in human form. "I''ll keep that in mind," he said. Much of his focus was on becoming a merchant, naturally, but he still wanted to be capable and responsible when it came to using his magic.


    The towering ape wizard went on, gesturing as he spoke. "We wizards can be a... competitive people. My condition is a testament to that fact. Yet when we are faced by an external threat, we will often face forward as a united front. We survive together, we hang together," he explained, gesturing skyward with one massive hand. "And layfolk often find reasons to fear us, given what we are capable of. Especially if young novices end up losing control of their power, and wreaking havoc as a result."


    "Ah. I see," Coin said, inspecting the scroll again. His gaze flicked above the top of the paper, meeting Merrick''s own. "And because of my ''potential'', the risk of that is higher?"


    Merrick nodded. "Very much so. You seem a... reasonable lad. Certainly, I know many fools who have used magic as an excuse to commit horrid acts. Good to know you''re not like that," he remarked. "So, fortunately, there is no current need to be strict with you. But know that the powers that be tend to be rather quick to notice magic being mistreated."


    He raised his left hand and, with a thought, summoned a ball of lightning nearly twice as large as Coin''s. The mimic stared with widening eyes. Then, just as easily, he clenched his fist and willed the flickering sphere of energy away. "Magic is not a toy. |It is a tool, one that can cause great havoc and destruction if mishandled. Treat it with respect, for all of our sakes."


    Coin watched the gorilla lower to his haunches, before he knuckled away with surprising grace. Alone, he took another moment to inspect the scroll he''d been gifted, before tucking it into one of the inner pockets of his coat.


    Sentinel really was a strange place...


    The mimic made for big bag of supplies and hoisted it back into his arms. "Better get back to Elijah and Essine, before they leave without me." He couldn''t wait to see the look on Elijah''s face when he told him all about meeting a talking gorilla!

 Chapter 33 - Pick a Fight

    Coin arrived at the stables in time to see a pair of burly porters loading sealed wooden crates onto the back of their wagon. Each one had the Greatglow crest, a luminous mushroom on a bronze shield, painted on the wood. A tarp was promptly tossed over the boxes to provide some measure of privacy.


    "Good work lads, jolly good," Elijah said, handing each one a few ducats as a tip.


    The first man, stout and bearded, graciously pocketed his. "You oughta be careful out there, ser. Not just for the sake of the paintings either. Road has a share of dangerous sorts hangin'' about once you''re away from the shadow of the walls, and word of this shipment may well spread fast. You know how it is when it comes to rich folks."


    "I''ll be fine, don''t you worry," Elijah replied. He brightened as Coin approached, helping him load the provisions into the wagon. "There you are! Thought you''d gone and gotten lost."


    Coin smiled bashfully, standing aside to help Essine into the back of the wagon. "I was... well, there was a delay." He leaned into his mentor in a conspiratorial manner, excitement glittering in his golden eyes. "I saw a talking gorilla!"


    Elijah didn''t look half as surprised as Coin had expected him to be. "Ah, Merrick? Guess he''s still living in Sentinel."


    "You... know him?" Coin asked, partially deflating with disappointment.


    "Not personally," Elijah replied. He made his way to the front of the wagon and fished a handful of berries from his pocket. Dancer opened his mandibles, a long probing tongue scooping the berries up one by one. "He''s something of a fixture in the city, one of the few wizards who lives within the walls proper. He wouldn''t stick out if it wasn''t for his hairy transformation. I''ve seen him around, from time to time."


    "What is... gorilla?" Essine asked from where she sat.


    "Ah, well, they''re a sort of... big monkey. You find ''em in the more mountainous highlands up north, and in some of the plains and steppes to the east," he explained. "Huge, muscular, hairy... it''s generally a good idea to keep your distance from them. But Merrick got to keep his faculties when he got turned into one, at least."


    That made the kobold tilt her head, her eyes growing wider. "This wizard became a beast, and chose to stay that way?"


    "Suppose it must have its advantages," Elijah replied. He wiped his palm with a cloth after Dancer finished eating. As docile and pleasant as the giant insect was, he had table manners so awful that even a pig would accuse him of being an uncivil boar. Elijah climbed into the driver''s seat, grunting as he did so. "I know I''d be more spry if I had an ape body to work with. So, what did he want?"


    "Just gave me an impromptu magical lesson," Coin replied, patting the scroll he''d tucked into his coat. "Guess it''s pretty important for wizards to teach newcomers."


    "Yes, well, most accomplished wizards are always on the hunt for apprentices. It''s a big deal to that lot," Elijah replied.


    "Do you... plan on leaving this group?" Essine asked, her pointed ears twitching. Coin spied a hint of sadness in her eyes, which made his stomach knot.


    "N-no, of course not. I''m here permanently!"


    That brought a smile to the kobold''s face. "Thank goodness," she said.


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    They rode their wagon through one of Sentinel''s larger roads, passing by an assortment of other carriages as they went. The bumping of the cobbles beneath them occasionally got so bad that Coin feared his breakfast was going to try and climb its way up his throat to blessed freedom.


    One of the northern gates led out into a large road which gradually diverged into a series of branching paths. Elijah drew a map from a pocket of his shirt, sticking his tongue from his mouth as he tried to to sort their route,


    Coin leaned in for a better look, but it was hard to make out the specifics of the smaller roads as they were drawn.


    "Gilly Froth... On the road between here and Redwood Grange. Which means we need to..." Elijah clicked his tongue, looking from the map to the road. "Take that route," he said, raising a finger and motioning to a winding road that branched and grew steadily hillier.


    It was as they were considering their options that a trio of larger wagons trundled past them in single file, each sporting the logo of the Venture Company on the canvas. They drew so close that Dancer hissed in discomfort, shifting awkwardly on his scuttling legs.


    Coin glared at the drivers, who paid them little mind. But his attention quickly shifted toward Ashur, flanked by Yasuko as before, as he he approached them.


    "I''m sure you must all think yourselves rather clever. Snatching the Greatglow contract right from under my nose." He bore a carefree smile, but his eyes burned with malice.


    "We didn''t snatch anything. If you were better than us, you would have gotten the job," Coin firmly replied.


    "You always were rather poor when it came to winning people over," Elijah remarked without looking up from his map.


    Ashur chuckled. "I was convincing enough to get the other investors and major people in the company on my side."


    That made Elijah glance up, his eyes narrowing. "When I was at my lowest. Aye. Congratulations I suppose you expect me to say I''m proud of you for being an opportunist?"


    Ashur narrowed his eyes, flashing his teeth in an irritated grimace. "I don''t give a shit if you''re proud of me or not," he replied, his voice a brittle hiss.


    "Could have fooled me," he bluntly replied. He gripped Dancer''s reins firmly. "But you know something Ashur? Try as you might, you''ll always end up in my shadow. And do you know why?" Elijah leaned forward a bit, enough to make Ashur recoil ever so slightly. "Because the damn company still has my name on it."


    He flicked the reins and set off, while Ashur was still balking indignantly. But, eventually, he called after them: "Enjoy that contract, for however long you may damn well have it!"


    Essine emerged from her hiding place, resting her hands against the wood of the driver''s seat. "That one... is imposing," she murmured. "Very angry."


    "Always has been. And I suppose in my foolish youth, I hoped he would have grown out of it."


    Coin stole a glance over his shoulder as Sentinel''s outer walls grew increasingly distant. He could see Ashur speaking heatedly with Yasuko, his hands gesturing sharply and regularly towards their retreating wagon. The bodyguard watched him impassively, rigid as a statue.


    The mimic narrowed his eyes. He doubted the other merchant was willing to let this go easily.


    Elijah explained the situation to their kobold companion, who listened with rapt attention. A tiny hissing sound rose in her throat. "Dreadful. Cruel. To be a traitor, a deceiver, it is one of the unforgivable crimes in the eyes of kobold kindred."


    "Mhm. I felt much the same when I was first aware of the situation," Elijah replied, sadly shaking his head. "He''ll be pissed off. And I doubtless made the situation worse by tugging on a raw nerve like I did."


    "Should we be worried?" Coin asked, leaning closer to his mentor. "I saw him talking with that bodyguard of his, and he definitely seemed angry."


    Elijah considered the question for several moments, the silence filled by the creaking of the wagon wheels. "I suppose there''s the possibility of him doing something stupid. Especially things being as they are these days. It''s not uncommon for unscrupulous merchants to make... deals, let''s say, with criminal groups. Anything to undercut their competition. That''s the environment of competition Velasco''s initiative has generated. Just about everyone wants to become the official mercantile company of Sentinel."


    Coin stirred where he sat, looking ahead at the winding road. The ground grew uneven, shifting into sloping hills that were flanked by trees and bushes. "So, we might be in danger?" Coin asked.


    "It''s not impossible," Elijah admitted, sparing a glance to his companions. "But we may be safer on this stretch of the road than elsewhere. In these parts, at least, you get guard patrols."


    "From the sound of things, they should be sending out more guards these days. But, I guess if anything happens, I''ll take care of it," Coin replied. And with his new promethium ring, it would be a perfect chance for him to test it out.


    And he was, admittedly, a bit hungry.


    They settled in for a long ride, beneath a canopy of thick grey clouds that threatened to start raining at any given moment. Coin took another glance at the two crates, inwardly pondering the sheer wealth those boxes signified. And the bounty their presence had potentially painted on their backs.


    A strange prickling sensation rose in Coin''s flesh, the exact same kind of wariness he felt whenever he encountered something truly dangerous back in the temple. Whatever lay ahead of them, Coin knew it wouldn''t be a safe journey.

 Chapter 34 - Late Night Snack

    The journey that day was a rather peaceful one, where the only disruption came in the form of intermittent bursts of rain. As predicted, they occasionally passed by guards patrolling on horseback. Each patrol usually consisted of four men, burly and armoured, who watched Coin and the others warily from behind the shade of their helmets.


    Yet, for as peaceful as everything was, that sense of unease never left Coin. Some ancient, primal sense of danger lurked in his brain, an animal instinct that his evolution hadn''t burned away.


    They ate a nicer dinner of grilled meat sandwiches, which Essine crafted and seasoned with care. Coin savoured his and ate it with relish, but it did little to dull the worry he felt.


    So, after everyone was fast asleep, the restless mimic eventually strode away from the camp. His movements were silent and cautious, creeping among the tall grass. He made a few laps of the clearing they''d made camp in, growing progressively distant and repeatedly sniffing for any scents that didn''t belong.


    He was about to give up on finding anything, only to halt when the faint whiff of a foreign scent hit his nose. A distinct aroma of human sweat, coupled with strong notes of tobacco smoke. It wasn''t Elijah''s scent, he was damn sure of that.


    Coin quickly morphed his body, a coil of twisting grey flesh that flew from the collar of his shirt. He emerged outside his fallen clothing, becoming a hunched and vaguely reptilian shape with coarse grey skin. His elongated fingers neatly folded his clothing up, beneath the shade of a tall tree. He''d retrieve them later, for now he wanted to be able to prowl around with some measure of anonymity.


    So much time spent maintaining the same shape eventually grew to be uncomfortable too. Mimics had evolved to be able to maintain the same shape for hours or even days at a time, motionless to lull prospective prey in. But any muscle, even the slippery and malleable ones of shapeshifters, could grow stiff and sore.


    But, though he had put his clothing aside, Coin kept his promethium ring hooked to one finger. Just in case. And his gold was, as ever, stored in a pouch of flesh in his gut. He''d sooner part with his own arms than his gold.


    His head grew pointed and elongated, thin slits forming into nostrils at the front of his snout. His skin shifted to adopt the texture of dark wood, leaving his taloned feet and hands looking akin to angular tree branches. A long, willowy tree that had shed its leaves and taught itself to walk.


    Coin quickly darted through the woods, sniffing the air until it grew progressively more pronounced. And, once he had passed a considerable distance, he couldn''t help but pick up on other human aromas, and the lingering stink of burning wood. It was possible, Coin reasoned, that he was merely sneaking up on a camp of normal travellers.


    But the wariness he felt never faded. He still needed to check to see who these people actually were, just to put his mind at ease.


    His path eventually took him to a bush-strewn hill. Coin crept to the thick overgrowth, scarcely disrupting a single branch. His large, sharp eyes peered down through the gloom, to the flickering orange light of a large campfire.


    A group of men were seated around the blaze, smoking, drinking, and generally chattering amongst themselves. And, Coin quickly noticed, each man was armed with a sword or axe. That in itself wasn''t an indication of criminality, only a fool would travel the roads unarmed these days, but Coin still stood to attention at the sight.


    "Damnation," one of the men, a scrawny beanpole in leather armour, hissed from where he sat, slowly swilling a tankard of ale in his hand. "Colder than a elf''s tit tonight. You figure we''re in for more rough weather?"


    The man to his right, a gnome with a shaved head and a face lined with tattoos , took a puff from the pipe in his hand. "Might be. Rain might get worse, actually, given how thick the clouds are looking." He motioned upward to a stubby hand, to where a great coil of black clouds was trying to smother the moon.


    A woman across from them, adorned in half-removed plate armour, slowly wiped at the blade in her lap. "Yeah, well, that''ll make things harder for us. You know we gotta keep an eye the roads come mornin''."


    "I know, I know," the first man replied, before taking a long gulp of his ale. "In case that wagon comes by."


    That made Coin perk up, his haunches tightening. The mimic let his biomass shift around, adding strength to his hearing.


    "All that rain. And if it fogs up, that wagon could roll right by us if we ain''t careful," the gnome said. He puffed at his pipe, slowly and thoughtfully. "Although, you ask me the whole thing is odd."


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    "How''s that?" the woman asked without looking up from her blade.


    "Well I mean... ain''t right, is it? All that money for some fancy bloody paintings." He spouted twin streams of smoke from his nostrils. "I dunno. Rich folks are always a bunch of dafties. Suppose if you can afford to spend your money on anything, you choose all kinds of crap to buy."


    "Yeah, it''s a stiff sum," a third man said, perched on a creaking wooden box. He was tall and well built, his armour ill-fitting on his body. "Maybe it''s art what''s got naked ladies painted on it. That probably makes it valuable."


    "Does it matter?" the woman replied with a exasperated sigh. "Whatever''s in those boxes isn''t important, only that we oughta grab them and leave them undamaged. And that we don''t kill the old man."


    "I know," the gnome replied.


    "Do you?" the woman asked, glaring at him. "Because the last time you were told not to kill a specific person-"


    "It was one time! And anyway that fool pulled a knife on me first! Course I''m gonna skewer the bastard if it''s a choice between my life and theirs!"


    Coin grew increasingly tense from where he knelt. There was no doubt in his mind that they were talking about Elijah and his group. And if they meant to harm his allies, then he was well within his rights to hurt them too. Striking first, by his estimation, was more than fine.


    It was at that moment that a man emerged from the tents, tall and willowy, adorned in an armoured red coat. He bore the pointed ears of an elf, but his pale purple skin was unlike any Coin had ever seen before. He approached the campfire, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.


    "You caused us a lot of bother that time, Nema," he said, glancing to the gnome who seemed to grow even smaller under the elf''s gaze. "I won''t forgive a mistake like that a second time. Cost us a lot of money the first time, after all."


    Nema swallowed hard. "Aye, w-well, of course not, Vez. Wouldn''t ever dream of it." he quickly replied.


    The woman raised her blade and sheathed it, just as Coin crept from the shadows and slowly wound his way downhill on all fours. "I''m bored, an'' I ain''t tired out. Wanna get the songbird from her cage, see if we can''t get a few yarns out of her?"


    Nema grunted. "Maybe. She''s kind of a pain in the arse to deal with though. And so damn moody. A pain to put up with."


    "Can ya blame her?" the first man replied. "Doubt you''d be all that happy in her shoes."


    Another man made his way around, wiping crumbs of bread from the coarse tangles of his black beard. "Damn fine singer though, has to be said."


    "That''s why we got her in the first place," said Vez. The purple elf sneered, a manic glint flashing in his eyes. "But if she wants to be difficult, there are ways to convince her to do what''s asked of her."


    "Fine. But I''m not dishing out the beatings on her this time," the bearded man said.


    "Well I''m not doing it," Nema said. "Last time I had to persuade someone to do what they''re told, my fist-"


    Coin''s jaws, like a fleshy venus fly trap with rows of rib-sized teeth, burst from the darkness and clamped shut around the gnome. Nobody would ever know what became of his fist because it, and the rest of his body, was crushed to a fine pulp in the blink of an eye. The scrawny beanpole to his side was, similarly, given little chance to react when Coin''s claws jabbed outward, punching clean into the back of his neck and tearing it asunder.


    The spray of his blood splashed onto the man seated on the box, who shrieked and was nearly knocked flat from his seat in his shock. He fumbled for his axe, just as the female bandit moved to draw her blade.


    The gleaming steel whistled through the air and struck Coin''s upraised arm. But the flesh was far sturdier than that of a normal human, the density scarcely yielding around the freshly sharpened edge. She jumped back as Coin''s large arm swept toward her, barely avoiding a blow that would have cleaved her chest in twain.


    The blood-spattered bandit took a blind swing with his axe, his other cohort going to grab a weapon while Vez hastily pulled his hands from his coat pockets. A meteorite ring glittered on his left ring finger. The weighted blade of the axe caught Coin''s shoulder, the mimic hissing as flesh blood oozed from the wound. But the flesh of his shoulder quickly lurched, a pair of bone spikes snapping outward and skewering the axe-man''s outstretched arm. He howled, trying and failing to wrench his arm free.


    Coins jaws and throat flexed, swallowing the rest of Nema. "W-what in the Goddess'' name is that?!" the woman shrieked, too paralysed to move.


    A wave of red light exploded from Vez''s left hand, closing the gap in an instant and slamming into Coin''s body. His protruding bone shards shattered from the impact, freeing the axeman, and sending the mimic''s bulk tumbling away. "Dead is what it is!" the elf snarled. "Kill it, quick!"


    The axe man moaned, slumping back and clutching the gushing ruin that had once been his forearm. Coin tensed on his haunches, a gurgling noise rising in his throat. Another bolt of magical force shot from Vez''s palm, but this time Coin jumped away and avoided the blast as it tore a swathe from the dirt. The woman rushed him as he landed, launching a flurry of stabs to his head before he properly regained his footing.


    The tip nicked his head a few times, each stroke of steel opening a fresh bleeding mark. But they were mere flesh wounds, only drawing trickles of blood. Coin''s clawed hand swept up, causing the swordswoman to pirouette away.


    A feint, alas. And she didn''t have time to dodge again as Coin''s tongue whipped around and speared clean through her chest. The mimic''s tongue, one of their best weapons. Humans and their ilk always, without fail, forgot about the tongue.


    The woman was dead before she hit the ground, her sword clattering to the grass.


    "Demon," the other bandit said, puffing over and clutching a great hammer in both hands. Sweat shone on his face, dripping from his beard, "It''s a damn demon! Crawled out of the Bleak!"


    Ignoring his ally, Vez took aim and fired again as Coin surged forward. But this time Coin braced himself, sweeping his hands upward and generating a swirl of pressurized air. It bore the brunt of the magical impact, which shook the ground beneath Coin''s feet and sent his heels skidding a few inches backward.


    That made the elf recoil in shock, locking eyes with the mimic. Instead of the baleful, singleminded eyes of a monster, he saw something intelligent looking back at him. This was a monster that could think.


    "What... are you?" he asked.


    Coin hissed and grinned.

 Chapter 35 - Eat an Elf

    Coin thrust his claws forward, unleashing a great gust of wind that nearly blew the campfire out. Vez responded quickly, light exploding from his heels and launching him back toward the tents. His companion threw himself to the ground, only barely avoiding being blown away.


    The mimic advanced swiftly, racing toward the one-armed man. In his wild, adrenaline-fuelled panic, he clutched his axe and swung blindly. The edge thudded into Coin''s chest, drawing blood, but did little to halt the mimic''s jaws as he tore the man asunder from the waist up.


    More biomass, more strength. And that flesh was quickly directed to close his dripping wounds.


    The other bandit''s hammer slammed into Coin''s side with bone-shattering strength, making the mimic stumble aside. He hissed, blood oozing from his toothy maw as he glared at his prey. That made the armoured man stumble back, his hammer trembling in his hands.


    It was nice being a human, Coin would admit. To walk in the sunlight, and relish in the freedom of a life outside the underground. He almost felt bad for his kin, who had no idea what they were missing out on. But it was also quit enjoyable to cut loose just a little, to give into his primordial instincts.


    He just had to make sure he didn''t make a habit of it.


    More bolts of crimson light raced through the air, cleaving forward faster than a hail of arrows. Coin loped around, deftly dodging them, as each bolt tore a chunk from the ground. He countered, firing a whip of wind at Vez. The elf flung himself away with another burst of energy at his feet, the wind slicing a nearby tree trunk in twain.


    Another hammer blow caught Coin in the side, but this time the mimic was able to swat his attacker aside. The bandit struck off the ground, rolling to a halt and gasping in pain. "Vez! Kill it!" he cried.


    He swung harshly as Coin moved over him, the blow glancing off his arm. Coin scarcely noticed it, skewering the bandit with a swift stab of his tongue. He gagged and gargled, helpless as Coin flung his broken body aside.


    A wall of pure force exploded into Coin''s body at that exact moment, launching the mimic off his feet and smashing him into a nearby tree. It was torn from its moorings, digging up a portion of the grass and earth around it. Coin hissed in pain, a numb ache tingling down his entire left side. Nothing broken, that much quickly became apparent to him, but that bolt of magic still stung something fierce.


    "You come into my camp, kill MY people?!" Vez hissed, his body aglow with flickering ruby flames. "I don''t know what kind of monstrosity you are, but you die here and now!"


    Coin lashed his right hand outward, electricity dancing along his clawed fingertips. A bolt of lightning shot from his outstretched digits, closing the gap in an instant and lighting up the surrounding blackness. A shimmering bubble of red light instantly formed in front of Vez, the lightning bolt exploding into a spray of white hot sparks against the wall of energy.


    Another flurry of energy daggers launched toward Coin, who quickly scrambled away from them. But a few of them managed to graze Coin in passing, opening burning wounds along his hide. Coin snarled, nearly being bowled over from the sharp flashes of pain.


    He was no stranger to being hit with melee weapons. He disliked them, of course, but it was a pain he was used to. Injuries born from magic, on the other hand, hurt significantly more. As if each blow sent a tide of fire racing through every nerve in his body.


    Vez pressed the assault, sending a hail of glowing daggers into the tree line. Coin moved quickly, keeping low to the ground while the sharpened blades of energy sliced through the nearby trees and bushes.


    Coin had a healthy backlog of biomass to call upon, using it to mend his injuries and dull the pain he felt, but he couldn''t regenerate indefinitely. And each injury would just serve to slow him down more and more.


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    The elf advanced into the brush, still alight with a halo of garnet energy. He scanned about with burning, hateful eyes, fashioning blades of magical light into both hands. "Don''t know if you''re a demon, or something worse, but it doesn''t matter. Not to me. Cuz you''re dead either way!"


    A flash erupted from his eyes, firing blindly into the darkness that surrounded them. The bolt of concussive force from his eyes struck a few nearby trees, blasting them into clouds of burning splinters.


    Coin scuttled silently behind him, sleek and graceful despite how monstrous his form was. He summoned a great gale with a thought, launching it toward Vez''s back. The elf snarled and spun around, his barrier glowing with greater intensity to ward off the explosion of wind. It buffeted around him, the cyclone swirling against the shield and uprooting large tracts of the surrounding soil. He was pushed further and further back, grunting under the mounting strain.


    A wave of force erupted from Vez''s barrier, pushing through Coin''s own spell and sweeping toward him. The mimic leapt aside, back into the shadows, and quickly slithered among the trees.


    Vez huffed for breath, pale clouds emerging from his mouth. "What kind of damn monster knows how to use magic?" he asked himself in a low growl. He advanced into the darkness, his aura faintly flickering.


    The elf had power, but lacked stamina. A common weakness among those who didn''t properly cultivate their magic.


    There were two types of magic users in the world. There were those who took it seriously, devoting a good deal of time and effort into properly studying the power, mastering it until spellcraft came as easy to them as breathing. And there were those who saw magic as a cheap tool, something to be used and abused. It was a very convenient ''I win'' button to criminals, who could near-instantly best any foe devoid of magic.


    Until you were suddenly faced with someone who couldn''t be killed with a single spell.


    Vex stalked forward through the trees, gritting his teeth. "I know you''re not just some wild animal, you freak," the bandit growled. "So what are you? A demon? A phantasm?"


    He came to a sudden stop, a sense of dread washing over him and igniting every primordial fight or flight warning sign in the deepest recesses of his brain.


    One of the fallen trees, camouflaged among the other collapsed trunks, unwound itself behind Vez, long clawed limbs opening outward. Finally, Vez swung around, eyes widening in horror. "... a mimic?" he murmured.


    Coin''s fist, wreathed in lightning, swung down through the air toward the elf. Vez''s barrier flared to life, but the blow shattered it asunder with a roar like thunder. The elf was launched aside by the shock wave, desperately scrambling to his feet. But Coin was on him in an instant, jaws splaying wide. And, in one swift chomp, he gobbled Vez from the waist up.


    The rush of blood and meat tingled through the entirety of his body, tenfold stronger than the rush Coin got from eating normal humans. He''d never had an elf before, the taste distinct from what he was used to. Pleasant, softer, and more subtle a flavour.


    He lurched forward and let his tongue unfurl to reveal Vez''s meteorite ring. His eyes widened. Magic... of course. If he absorbed magic from eating a human wizard, then had he also absorbed Vez''s magic too.


    Electricity briefly crackled around him, spurred by his command. He did not feel any different, in truth, but perhaps it would take some time for Vez''s magic to manifest? A matter to contemplate another time. He''d just saved himself and his friends from danger, and now he''d need to quickly make his way back to camp before anyone noticed his absence.


    But, first and foremost, he was owed some extra compensation.


    Still in his monstrous visage, Coin scuttled back to the remains of the camp. An assortment of boxes were set about the campfire, and he set about popping each one open to see what they contained. Preserved foods, small weapons, alchemical potions devoid of labels... But not a single ducat in sight.


    He pressed deeper into the camp, toward the tents, and soon stumbled upon a lockbox sporting a weighty steel lock. He tore the lid open with a single flex, and grinned at the stacks of golden coins that greeted him. He lifted the box and tipped it to his lips, spilling a steady stream of ducats into his mouth.


    "M-muh... muh..."


    The sound of a stranger''s voice made the mimic freeze in place. His gaze shifted over to a wooden cage partially shrouded in the darkness, housing a woman who stood frozen and staring at him with horrified eyes. A short and slender human, only slightly taller than Essine, He initially mistook her flowing hair for black, but a few stray beams of moonlight highlighted a deep purple hue to her follicles. Faint bruises lined one side of her face, but there was still an aristocratic edge to the woman. A dignity that being held captive had not undone.


    She was, after all, dressed in a rather fine blue brocade doublet, dark trousers, and expensive riding boots. A cut above the garb a normal commoner would wear. He spied a lute at the back of her cage. He''d seen adventurers carrying such instruments in the past. ''Bard'' was the word for them, he believed.


    "M-monster!" she eventually exclaimed, stumbling to the back of the cage and pressing her slim frame against it. So, this was the person the bandits had been talking about?


    Coin sat on his haunches in idle thought, pondering his next course of action. He supposed he couldn''t just leave her here. There was no telling if anyone else would come by to help her. But the last time the mimic had helped a stranger, he''d gotten smashed into a crater. So, now, he was left gripped with uncertainty.


    But, then again, if the woman was a threat to anyone, she likely wouldn''t be held back by a flimsy wooden cage. Slowly, hesitantly, he crept toward the cage. The woman watched him with horror, trembling with growing intensity as Coin''s claw hooked against the lock. He split it in twain with a single twitch.


    Then, as the door was creaking open, Coin turned and bounded away. He made a beeline for a nearby hill, illuminated by the moonlight. He turned to glance at the woman over his shoulder, who was still frozen in place but now sported a look of bewilderment on her face.


    He said only one thing to her, in a low and guttural voice distinct from his usual human tone: "Go free."


    With that he sprinted off into the darkness, making a beeline back to camp.

 Chapter 36 - Leona of Shadows

    The note came to Valle Irons in the usual way: Delivered by a street urchin who had doubtless been given a handful of ducats to do so, and had likely not stopped to ask who wanted the note delivered, what the note was about, or why. And, as ever, the note had been taciturn in its instructions:


    ''Tonight. Your office.''


    And so he sat there, late at night, long after the last of his workers had gone home for the night. The Spokes, in the daytime, was one of the loudest parts of Sentinel. The air was near-constantly filled with the noise of blaring horns, shouting foreman, and steaming whistles.


    And, from time to time, workers screaming from getting their hands caught in a grinding gears. Which, of course, was entirely their own fault.


    But at night the Spokes was as silent as the grave. Few people would want to linger on the ash-stained streets after dark, save for the kobold workers allowed to camp in the yards.


    The lantern on his desk flickered with a phosphoric light, illuminating the sunken features of his face. Valle sat in silence, lightly drumming his fingers on the varnished wood. Occasionally his eyes wandered to the small box off to his side. He had to imagine they were the reason for this impromptu meeting.


    He just wanted it to be done. To give these creeps what they wanted, and be left alone for good. But he doubted it would ever be so simple. There was always another favour, another request, always ''one more thing'' for Lord Bleak.


    Perhaps, Valle would occasionally tell himself in his quiet moments, this was what he deserved. He''d chosen to make a deal with bandits, after all. The alternative, letting his debts lapse, hadn''t been an alternative at all. Now, instead, his debts still hung snugly around his neck like a cruel noose.


    A floorboard creaked somewhere in the darkness, causing him to sharply look around the shabby interior. Perhaps it was just a rat, he told himself. Rats were as common in his factories as the workers. If anything, they were much more punctual.


    ''Tonight.'' Valle grit his teeth in frustration. Leave it to those arseholes to give him such a vague time, and expect him to sit in his office like a fool for untold hours.


    "It''s good to meet you, Valle."


    The soft, female voice sent a shudder up the length of his spine. Valle spun in his chair, only to find himself staring at a slim young woman only a few paces behind him. She was dressed all in black, save for the thin white scarf draped around her neck. Her pale face was framed by warm orange curls, and she bore a carefree smile on her face. With such an icy complexion, she had to be an Eldergardian.


    On a purely aesthetic level, he would have called her beautiful. But every primal nerve of his ancient monkey brain was screaming in warning at the sight of this slim, smiling girl. He couldn''t help but notice the sai sheathed on her belt, or the twin swords on her hips.


    It was like suddenly coming face to face with a cheetah. Perhaps, for a brief second, a person would think ''what a cute cat.'' Moments before reality caught up with them, and said cute cat tore their face off.


    "I..." Valle swallowed hard, his mouth dryer than the sandiest dune, "I was expecting-"


    "Askyr couldn''t make it today," she interrupted, sporting a cheery smile on her face. "And so I was sent in his stead."


    "I... see," he eventually replied. His chair creaked beneath him. "It''s just... I don''t know if I have much reason to believe you. You could be lying."


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    Her smile never faltered. "Your prudence does you well. I was told you''re a sharp fellow," she replied. "Call me Leona. Consider me an associate of Lord Bleak." She rolled a sleeve up, exposing a tattoo on her pale inner forearm: A skull with a five pointed star behind it. The same mark that Askyr had.


    "Alright, well, er... what''s this meeting about?" Valle reached up, dabbing some damp sweat from his forehead.


    "You''re not in any trouble, of course," Leona replied. He had a distinct feeling he''d be dead by now if he was. "It''s just... well, we were wondering about some of the materials we commissioned from you. Your foundries have been quite busy, busier than normal."


    Valle nodded. His employees had no idea why they''d been tasked with forging such strange, seemingly useless things out of the blue. Fortunately, they weren''t paid to ask questions. "I''ve only just started on the ball bearings. Only made a sample batch today."


    How had they known he already had a set prepared for them? Granted, he''d been told to make the ball bearings first, but they already knew he''d had some forged in the span of a day?


    Was someone on the factory floor a spy? Or did they have someone always watching him from the shadows? Leona had entered with grace and silence, it was possible she wasn''t the only person tied to Lord Bleak with such skills.


    "Indeed. And we need to make sure those ball bearings are up to snuff," Leona calmly replied. "Tailored to rather... precise specifications."


    "My people are good at what they do," Valle pointedly replied. He may have been under the thumb of these thugs, but he wouldn''t stand for them speaking ill of the quality of his work.


    Her smile brightened, but there wasn''t a hint of joy or empathy in her eyes. "Let''s hope so." She sauntered over and popped the lid off the nearby box. Valle pushed his lantern so she could get a better look at the interior.


    Her gloved thumb and index finger gripped one ball, lifting it to the light. Valle, for the life of him, couldn''t figure out why Lord Bleak wanted hundreds of solid lead ball bearings. But, whatever the case, Leona seemed pleased by them. "Well now... seems you might have gotten the size right on the first try. Nice job. What do you make of them, sir?"


    A look of bewilderment briefly crossed Valle''s face. He turned, sharply, only to freeze in horror when he spied another figure in the room with them. A tall and dark hooded shape, looming even taller than Valle, hung back some distance from Leona. He floated over in silence, just close enough for the lantern light to highlight the carved, angular features of his mask. It had been designed like a death mask, depicting a a grim and emotionless face.


    When the shape drew close enough, Valle could see that his mask was forged from pure promethium. Having that kind of wealth struck Valle as being nearly inconceivable for any lowly bandit.


    The lead ball floated from Leona''s grasp, hovering just in front of the stranger''s face. He silently tilted his head from one side, then to the other. Eventually, in a soft, hissing voice he said "Well done."


    "They''re... the proper size?" Valle warily asked.


    "They are," the stranger confirmed. "Continue manufacturing them to these specifications until the entire order is filled."


    Valle nodded stiffly, the only thing he could think to do in that moment. Eventually his wits at least partially returned to him. "Getting that volume of lead isn''t... isn''t an easy thing to do."


    "We''re sure you''ll manage. You know what''ll happen to you if you don''t," Leona said, smiling pleasantly.


    Of course Valle knew. He was never allowed to forget. "But... why do you even want all these lumps?" he asked.


    "You needn''t worry about it," Leona cheerily said as the lead ball was floated back toward the box.


    "But wh-"


    The tip of a sai was suddenly under his chin, so close that it could have shaved him. Leona''s smile never faltered. "Whatever you need to know, you''ll be told. And if you don''t like that, well we might just have to reconsider working with you. You''re valuable, but not irreplaceable." She withdrew her blade from his quivering throat.


    "N-noted," Valle replied.


    The floating shape started retreating to the shadows. "Leona. Come."


    "As you will, my lord."


    Valle''s eyes widened slightly, his fears abruptly confirmed. This wasn''t just another underling. Lord Bleak himself, who Valle had suspected of being some kind of elaborate ruse being cooked up by bandits, was all too real. Or, at least, he had a masked face to put to the name.


    Leona turned on her heel and stalked away, lifting and tossing her sai a few times as she went. There was a clear practice to the movement, as she caught the handle expertly each time.


    She paused, walking halfway into the shadows, and smirked at Valle. "Chin up, Valle. When this is all said and done, you''ll be able to look back and smile."


    "When... what is all said and done?" he hesitantly asked.


    "Ah, Valle." Leona melted into the shadows. "What did I say about asking things you don''t need to know?"


    He sat statue still for several moments, silent as the grave, until he was certain he was well and truly alone. At which point, Valle sank into his chair and let out a shaky breath. It was only in that moment that he finally became aware of the ice cold sweat he was drenched in, and heard the thunder of his own heartbeat.

 Chapter 37 - Meet the Bard

    The further on they went, the more the woodland landscape melted away. It was steadily replaced by rolling, rocky grey plains, where great hulking insects scuttled about and grazed on the grass. Essine, in particular, seemed entranced as they passed by the roaming herds. But eventually a thick fog began to form on the plains, making it hard to see anything beyond a few leagues in the distance.


    "What do you know about Gilly Froth?" Coin asked, only barely looking up from the tome in his lap. By now his literacy had grown decently refined, and he only occasionally needed help understanding some of the larger words. And he still had much to learn from the Sensible Young Warlock''s Guide to Good Grief What Maniac Gave This Book Such an Absurd Title.


    "Hm?" Elijah blinked to attention. On occasion, whenever he was driving, he fell into a trance of sorts, and he''d usually snap to attention as if woken from a dream. "Oh, the buyer. Well I know of him, but I can''t say I ever met him in person."


    "I''d assume he''s another rich aristocrat, like Greatglow."


    "Fairly wealthy, by my estimation, but Greatglow stands on a higher level than him in the hierarchy." Elijah clicked his tongue, casting his gaze skyward. "Let''s see... Well he''s said to be a fan of the arts. Well, that much is obvious," he said, motioning to the crates in the back. "But, particularly, he''s a fan of controversial arts. I''ve heard he has a vault housing many banned paintings and manuscripts."


    "Banned...?" Coin asked, lifting an eyebrow.


    Elijah chuckled. "Ah, well. The arts have a tendency to inflame people and their passions. And occasionally, a few of those people will get so inflamed by art that they want it removed from the public eye."


    Silence fell among the group, the two nonhumans equally flummoxed by what Elijah had just said. "This one does not understand," Essine eventually said.


    "Yeah, me neither," Coin replied. Something upset people enough that they wanted it removed entirely from the world, regardless of what other people felt? It seemed rather odd.


    "Ha. Well, that makes three of us," Elijah replied. "But it''s an unfortunate facet of life. You''ll often find that the people who complain the loudest, even if they''re a tiny minority, can get loud enough to move mountains. Or, perhaps, an artist will offend someone of considerable power and influence, who will use both of them to eradicate whatever has offended them."


    Coin furrowed his brow, trying and failing to wrap his head around the concept. And after a considerable internal debate, dissecting everything Elijah had just said and putting it up with everything he had learned about surface dweller culture thus far, this was the best conclusion his mind could draw:


    Humans are strange.


    "Well," he eventually said, "what kind of things does he own? What things end up getting banned?"


    "Ah, much of it''s from the days prior to the rebellion. It perhaps won''t surprise you to know that the royal family were not fond of anyone who mocked or satirised them. Hard for me to imagine how he managed it, but Ser Froth managed to smuggle many of these things away in secret over the years, or acquired them from likeminded collectors. And was quite proud to boast about that fact after Velasco took power, now that he could admit as much out loud."


    "And does this... Velasco ever banish anything?" Essine asked from where she sat.


    "All things considered? Archchancellor Velasco has a bit of a sense of humour for that sort of thing. Generally allows for satire. He does, after all, want to paint a better image of himself than the old Arcadian royal family. Except for..." the old man winced. "There was that one time a playwright put on a show that implied Velasco had sexual congress with his mother and that playwright... was never seen again."


    Coin nodded. "I suppose that would piss someone off." He assumed, anyway, because he wasn''t sure how bad such an allegation was in the eyes of a human.


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    "Goodness. Was that man... killed?" Essine warily asked.


    "Maybe. I don''t know. Doesn''t quite matter, I suppose," he said, shrugging dismissively. "Point is, Gilly Froth is a fellow with a passion for these controversial pieces of art. A collector who wants to keep them squirrelled away for his own private enjoyment."


    Coin considered this, stroking the pale surface of his chin. He supposed he would make for an interesting man, if nothing else.


    He opened his mouth to speak. But, at that moment, a female voice hailed them from further up the road. "Sers! I say, sers!"


    Coin looked up, and his eyes widened at the sight of a rider trotting their way, astride a sleek and skinny chestnut horse. He recognised the figure almost instantly by her sleek dark hair and brocaded outfit, and the instrument slung upon her back.


    Elijah tugged Dancer to a halt. "Hail, madame. Need something?" he asked.


    Coin paled, hunching forward a bit. The woman couldn''t recognise him in his human form, surely not. What she had seen last night had been a leonine-shaped mass of grey flesh, veiled in shadows and only barely illuminated by slivers of the moon. Yet he still couldn''t help but worry... what if?


    What if she saw through him? Recognised him in some strange way, from some mundane thing? His book trembled slightly in his grasp.


    "Yes, well I..." The woman flicked her raven hair back. "My name is Pearlovska Strad. Pearl, for short. Though among taverns and music halls they call me Black Pearl," she said , motioning briefly to her hair. "I was captured by a group of brigands for a few weeks, forced to be their songstress."


    Elijah gawked. "Goddess! The fiends! Where are they?! Coin, you best be ready to give them a damn good thrashing!"


    Pearl smiled and held a hand up to halt him. "No need. My freedom was born from their deaths, and they certainly deserved it. Even if I have no idea what killed them and freed me."


    "Eh? What do you mean?"


    Coin swallowed hard, the skin prickling on the back of his neck.


    "Some sort of... creature killed those bastards last night. Not a wild animal or a mindless monster. Yet it was clearly intelligent! Spoke to me and everything," she said. "Of course, I''m already composing a song about the creature. ''The Moonlit Monster'' is the working title. People love alliteration, you know."


    "A... monster saved you?" Essine asked, peering over the driver''s seat.


    The sight of the kobold made Pearl recoil slightly in the saddle, but she quickly righted herself and forced a smile. "A demon from the Bleak, perhaps. I don''t know. Regardless, he saved me. And so, I managed to find one of their steeds and have been trying to find my way back to civilization."


    Elijah gave Coin a sideways look. It seemed he didn''t quite believe Pearl''s story. It was, after all, an odd one. But Coin kept silence, clenching his jaws firmly together. But, regardless, he returned his focus to the bard. "Lost, are you?"


    "Indeed. Those brigands didn''t exactly make it easy for me to figure out my location." She sat upright and squinted down the road. "It''s this damnable fog. I keep getting turned around in it."


    "Mm. Fog is a bit common in the northern reaches," said Elijah.


    "We," Coin swallowed, mindful of his own voice. In his monstrous state, his voice was scarcely close to human, and he hadn''t even said a single full sentence to Pearl when they met. But he was still mindful, overly cautious. "We''re not too far from Sentinel. Maybe just... a day or two''s ride from here."


    Pearl tutted, letting out a morose moan and pressing a palm to her brow. "Alas, I fear taking the roads alone! The last time I did, I was captured by brutes."


    "Fair enough," Elijah said. "Well, we''re still pressing northward for now. We have business with a local toff." Nobody wanted to tell Elijah he was also very much a local toff. "And after that we''ll be spending a few days getting supplies further north, in the town of Grafia."


    "Yes, well, I don''t have anywhere else to go," she admitted. "And company is very much desired right now."


    "Strength in numbers," Essine said, glancing to her two companions. "It would be... prudent to provide aid to that one. It is good for the spirit to do good deeds." She looked into Coin''s eyes, expectantly.


    Right... not too long ago, he had saved her from harm. Now it seemed he''d be her first port of call whenever a good deed needed doing.


    Coin didn''t know how to feel about it. Maybe it was nice to do good deeds for folks, but he still couldn''t forget getting planted like a tree by that damn elf after helping his men.


    "I... suppose we could help escort her," Coin eventually said, which earned a pleased smile from the kobold. "It''d be irresponsible to leave her wandering."


    Pearl beamed, batting her eyelashes at Coin. "Such a gentleman!"


    "Do you... have something in your eye?" he asked. She was doing an awful lot of blinking.


    Elijah sighed and shook his head. "Oh lad..." As dense as a stack of bricks.


    "What?" he asked, tilting his head like a curious dog.


    Deciding not to dwell on it, because his apprentice was perhaps too much of a damn hick to understand if a woman was into him (a side effect of having a face that was an amalgamation of many handsome adventurer faces), Elijah gave Dancer''s reins a flick that set the bug to scuttling. "I''m Elijah. He''s Coin, my apprentice. The lass back there is Essine, our cook."


    "A kobold chef." Pearl wheeled her steed around, setting it to a steady canter alongside the wagon. She managed the kind of smile someone would usually reserve for delivering an awkward or uncomfortable bit of news. "How novel."


    "That''s not a problem, is it?" Coin asked.


    "No, no, not at all," Pearl said, letting out a strained laugh. "I''m sure she''s quite wonderful at it." She certainly didn''t sound sure.


    Essine grumbled, sinking back into the wagon with her ears flattening against the sides of her head. Perhaps good deeds weren''t entirely good for the soul after all.


    And so they pressed on, steadily progressing toward Gilly Froth''s stately home. Only now with some musical accompaniment from a melodic voice.

 Chapter 38 - The Froth Estate

    Two days had passed since the group met with Pearl, and they were apparently within walking distance of Gilly Froth''s estate. With the moons hanging in the air, framed by a series of parting clouds, Essine prepared a freshly cooked moussaka for the group.


    Coin''s mouth watered as a bowl was offered to him, the top saucy layer having been cooked to a crispy golden hue. The scent of cooked ground beef filled his nose, and he proceeded to scoop a spoonful up to inspect the dripping contents.


    Elijah took his own bowl, nodding graciously to essine. "Fine work, lass. Glad we got some more ingredients to work with." He idly stirred at his bowl. "But... I am curious. Where did you learn to make a recipe like this?"


    Essine paused as she handed Pearl a bowl, her tail flicking lazily from side to side. "This one and her family lived near a roadside inn for several years. The owner was... kind to koboldkin. Taught this one several recipes."


    "Ahh. Well now," Elijah downed a spoonful, and happily exhaled a coil of steam from his wrinkled lips. "Must have been a damn fine roadside inn." He looked to Coin at his side, who was wolfing his down without barely stopping to breathe between mouthfuls. "Oh for- have some manners lad!"


    "Mhnnhrs?" Coin asked, his cheeks stuffed with meat and eggplant.


    "Good grief. How can you eat that much in one go?"


    At least Coin had the common sense and restraint to not eat the entire bowl in one go. But Essine, watching him enjoy her cooking, smiled faintly.


    Pearl inspected her bowl, sniffing the contents a few times. She had enjoyed Essine''s cooking only the night before, but was still hesitant when it came to food prepared by a kobold. "It... does smell rather nice," she admitted, eventually, as if discussing some deeply embarrassing personal secret.


    "This one has thoroughly practiced cooking," Essine said, giving the bard a pointed look.


    "Well... I suppose even kobolds need hobbies." She ate slowly, at first, but with each bite she seemed to grow more and more invested in their meal.


    By the time Elijah was halfway finished, he looked up to their newest member. "Say, Pearl, how about a bit of a song? Some entertainment before bed."


    Pearl''s mood quickly brightened. And so, setting her half finished moussaka aside, Pearl lifted her lute to her hands and took a few practice strums on the strings. She tuned it, hummed and muttered to herself, and then set about singing in time with her slow, measured strumming.


    "The clouds were black and thick that night. Around a crackling flame, the brigands laughed and schemed. And this humble bard was shackled and chained, shoved out of their sight. But lo, the clouds parted to reveal the Goddess'' radiant moon, and I beheld a figure I never could have dreamed..."


    Come the morning, the group broke up their camp and made their way further up the road. It was a radiant morning, the grass glittering with a layer of damp dew. Birds twittered and fluttered about, breezing over the group in flocks.


    A black wren arced around the group and perched itself atop the branch of a nearby tree.


    Reaching the crest of a hill, Gilly Froth''s estate finally and fully came into view. A side road branched off toward the manor, which was bordered by a four meter high red brick wall, which was rendered even taller by the row of black iron spikes protruding from the top.


    The house itself, also constructed from red bricks, was slightly smaller than Lady Greatglow''s urban home. But it did have the benefit of having a larger garden, populated by a veritable zoo of topiary animals.


    Two guards, adorned in sturdy armour, stood to attention at the outer gate. Both of them were purple-skinned elves, which was intriguing to Coin. It seemed Vez wasn''t just a strange anomaly.


    They chatted briefly with Elijah, checked their cargo, and then let the group through. As Dancer scuttled up the gravel-strewn path, Coin turned to his mentor. "I''ve never seen elves like those before," he lied.


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    "Hm? Dark elves? I suppose they''re a bit of a rarity in these parts. Back in the day you''d only ever really see them in large numbers in Eldergard, or the other eastern kingdoms. But, in the past few years, they''ve been slowly migrating to Arcadia."


    Elves alone were a rarity for Coin, having only seen a modest number of them in Sentinel and Wheat Valley. "Are there other kinds of elves?"


    "Oh, none that I''m aware of," Elijah replied.


    Pearl chortled, a twinkle of mirth in her eye. "Oh, my good man, clearly you lack much whimsy in your life. There are more than two kinds of elf in the world. You''ve never heard tales of the sky elves, the sea elves, and lunar elves."


    "Lunar... elves?" Essine asked. The blunt look on her face spoke volumes.


    "Why, the elves who hailed from the moon of course. Indeed, the old songs and tales say that all elves were born from the moon, while humans were born from the soil of this land."


    Coin, who know nothing about history, decided that this was complete nonsense.


    "Oh please," Elijah replied. "What next? You going to tell me the one about the gnomes who dwell underground? Or the non-existent lands beyond the western sea?"


    Pearl tutted, elegantly flicking her dark hair back. "No whimsy," she repeated.


    "Well... there''s bound to be a lot of strange things in the world," Coin admitted. "Guess the only way to know for sure is if you travelled to every country, and saw everything with your own two eyes."


    "Believe me, there are some things you know to be bollocks even if you never looked into them with your own two eyes," Elijah said. "If I told you I was attacked a twenty meter long serpent made entirely of fried chicken, would you think I was being truthful?"


    The mental image of something so delicious earned a pleased sigh from the mimic. "I''d hope something like that is real."


    "Because you have an imagination, my sweet," Pearl replied. "The world is vaster and wilder than any of us dare dream. The old stories weren''t just imagined by storymen."


    "I''m quite certain they were," Elijah bluntly replied.


    Before the argument could progress any further, a man came bustling from the front door of the manor adorned in a silky red robe. The sight of him made Coin briefly recoil in his seat. The man''s face was so angular and ratlike that Coin nearly mistook him for some kind of shaved kobold.


    "Is he supposed to look like that?" Coin murmured.


    "Apparently," Elijah replied. "Nobody ever said aristocrats were attractive by default. And more than a few of them come from family trees that could pass for a family wreath."


    "That one has a poor smell," Essine grumbled, sinking deeper into the wagon.


    Pearl stirred in her seat, a grin breaking out across her face. "Wait a minute, is that..." she let out a shrill gasp. "Gilly!" She spurred her steed ahead of the group, and her approach earned a grin from the rat-faced man.


    "Pearly!" he cried, his voice high-pitched and silky.


    Elijah tugged Dancer to a halt just as Pearl dismounted and embraced the stooping, wrinkled man. "Good grief!" the girl exclaimed, glancing back at her companions. "You didn''t tell me Gilly was your client."


    Coin shrugged. "You never asked. And anyway, you didn''t recognise that we were heading to the house of your friend?"


    "Oh, she''s never been to my home. But we met when she was providing musical entertainment at the wedding of Lady Garlant and Lord Fleischer. I gave her the sheet music for ''Prince Oren has a Rotten Cock.'' T''was a huge hit on the dance floor."


    "The title is admittedly a bit of a mouthful, unlike the late prince''s alleged genitalia, but it really is a catchy song."


    "Aladar Burly really was an amazing songwriter." Gilly sighed and shook his head. "Damn shame Prince Oren had him torn apart by a pack of rabid dogs."


    Silence lingered in the area for several moments. "We... uh... brought your paintings," Coin eventually said.


    "Hm?" Gilly stood to attention. "Ah, of course, my thanks," he said, shuffling his way around to the rear of the wagon. "I suppose I should fetch some of my lads to help hoist the bo-"


    Coin moved into the back of the wagon, pushing the tarp aside, and hoisted the crate with ease. Essine shuffled aside, watching him with widened eyes. The mimic set the crate down and set aside, while the older man hummed and stroked his chin.


    "The er... kobold didn''t touch them, did she?"


    Coin narrowed his eyes at the old man. "No, she didn''t." But he''d put his hands on Gilly if he didn''t choose his words carefully.


    "Jolly good, jolly good," the old man said, nodding. "I suppose I owe you lot some payment for a successful delivery." He snapped his fingers, drawing over a guard who carefully pried the lid open with an iron bar. "I was, admittedly, hoping to stiff you on that bill. But I suppose I can''t do that with Pearly present."


    "Points for honesty," Elijah muttered.


    One by one the paintings were examined, and Coin had never seen so many naked women in one spot before. And, occasionally, naked men. But they were all posed in sensible ways, and regularly flanked by winged cherubs, so they crossed into the threshold of being high art.


    "Yes, the full set is here. Wonderful. Morise, fetch them the full sum," Gilly said. He snapped his fingers again, heralding another guard who approached with a sack of clinking coins.


    Elijah took the bag and counted each one in turn. "Now this is a generous tip," he admitted with a chuckle. "Essine," he said, handing the bag to the kobold. "You can make a note of this in the ledger, yes?"


    She bowed and nodded. "Of course." She scurried back to the rear of the wagon.


    "My... trusting a kobold with your money," Gilly muttered.


    Coin grinned, flashing his teeth and highlighting the sharpness of his incisors. And while he was smiling, his eyes radiated nothing but crushing malice. "That''s not a problem, is it?" he asked in a low voice.


    Gilly Froth paid, a nervous smile breaking out across his face. And in the back of his mind, some animal part of his brain was filled with ancestral memories of a treasure chest suddenly lurching to life with rows and rows of teeth embedded in the lid, and he hadn''t the foggiest idea why.


    "Aha, no no, not at all!" he replied, a bead of sweat rolling down his wrinkled brow. "Fine work lads, very fine work. Good to know there are still people who can be relied on for deliveries."

 Chapter 39 - Dark Dream Dweller

    They spent the night in Gilly Froth''s guest house, positioned in his back garden. It was all too likely the offer wouldn''t have been extended were it not for Pearl''s presence, but it was nice to be able to spend a night in a proper bed all the same.


    At first, Coin wasn''t quite sure he understood the purpose of a guest house. It seemed excessive to the mimic, who would have assumed there was little point to having more than one house. Surely everything you needed was going to be in the first house you got, and it wasn''t like you could sleep in two bedrooms per night.


    But then, when he put more thought into the matter, Coin began to see the logic to it. A house was the chief desire among many humans. Not only for the practicality of having a personal shelter, but because it could also be a great status symbol.


    "I''m so rich that I can afford to have a smaller house in the shadow of my main house", it seemed to say. It was rather unsubtle, as far as gestures went. Particularly given how large Gilly Froth''s main house actually was.


    It was an important note to consider for the future. If Coin ever got the chance, he''d have to put the biggest, gaudiest guest house he could conceive in his back yard.


    Those thoughts dominated his mind as he laid back in the padded bed of his room. Moonlight broke through the clouds and partially illuminated his surroundings. Coin''s hands were resting against the back of his head, his eyes half-lidded as he looked at the rolling back clouds outside.


    "It''s a nice way to live," he mumbled to himself. Gilly Froth was a damn fool. If he could have this kind of wealth, then Coin could easily have the same if he tried hard enough.


    He closed his eyes, expecting a calm and simple slumber.


    Yet, when Coin opened his eyes, he found his surroundings shrouded in an abyssal darkness. He blinked around in confusion, stumbling until his body sagged against a wall of stone. Carved grey rock surrounded him on all sides, the floor and ceiling near-identical.


    His eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, at which point he could see that the stone had been chiselled with a myriad of patterns. Spirals, lozenges, and carved human figures who seemed to be marching in lockstep in one direction.


    Some of the stone panels had been sculpted with what looked to be vast, human faces. Their empty eye sockets stared directly at Coin.


    "What... kind of dream is this?" Coin mumbled. Beads of sweat started to form on his brow, his skin prickling in disgust. Something about those faces was eerily familiar, and made an anxious knot twist in his stomach.


    In fact, the more he looked at his alien surroundings, the more that odd sense of familiarity filled his head.


    You.


    The voice sounded as if it was simultaneously echoing toward him from a hundred miles away, and right beside his ear. Coin shivered and glanced around frantically. He saw nothing but darkness and the stone faces.


    Slowly, anxiously, he trod down the corridor. His footsteps echoed endlessly around his ears.


    He didn''t know where he was going, what he expected to find, only that something in the back of his mind suggested that he should go further inside this strange place.


    "Who''s... who''s there?" Coin called out.


    Silence, thick and choking, answered him.


    "This... this is a dream, it''s not real," Coin murmured. The stone under his feet felt all too real.


    Your dreams. I speak to you in your dreams.


    The voice was vast and powerful. As if dozens of mouths were speaking in perfect unison.


    "Who?" Coin hissed. "Who are you?"


    This time the strange presence did not speak to him with words. There was a vast rumble, like thunder on the horizon, and Coin''s consciousness briefly touched that of another entity.


    In an instant his mind was flooded with a stream of images. Hundreds of them, overlapping chaotically, streaming by at such speed that Coin could only barely glimpse a few of them with any degree of clarity.


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    He saw screaming human faces, sprays of blood, the abyssal blackness of the deepest ocean trenches, waves and storms on the high sea, flocks of birds taking flight as several of their brethren were hooked and devoured by barbs of living shadow, and swimming schools of colossal sea creatures that radiated a brilliant azure glow.


    Whatever Coin was speaking with, it was massive. He could understand that much at least.


    He wheezed, nearly being knocked off his feet, and clung to one of the wall panels for support.


    Apologies. Perhaps I underestimated the strength of your mind. It is... difficult to communicate from this distance.


    "D-distance?" Coin breathlessly asked, fighting a strong urge to vomit.


    But I am drawing closer.


    A chill raced down Coin''s spine. He forced himself to stand. That strange compulsion tugged at his mind once more, and he pressed deeper into the darkness.


    "What do you want...? Do you... do you want to hurt me?"


    No. We are... alike. Kindred souls.


    Coin wanted to ask what that meant. Instead he found himself paralysed as he emerged from the mouth of the stone hallway, to find himself standing on a circular walkway that overlooked a gargantuan chamber.


    It stretched for a considerable distance above and below where he stood, and he could see a myriad of stone staircases that linked the various levels and chambers of the strange honeycombed structure. At the peak of it all, attacked to the ceiling like a fungal growth, was a green crystal that bathed the room in an eerie glow.


    Coin was frozen for several moments. The size of the strange place was daunting enough, but what struck Coin above all else was the strange familiarity of this vast cavern. As if he had once walked through here.


    Elbrinth.


    The thunderous voice snapped Coin to attention. "I''ve... heard that name before."


    The bowels of the world. The shaded undercity. The precipice of Sheol.


    Coin continued to scan his surroundings. The more he looked, the more he could tell how ancient everything around him was. Decay had only barely taken root in the stone, but the mustiness of the stale air spoke of countless centuries.


    "Sheol?" Coin mumbled.


    Your eyes look through my eyes. You walk upon my memories. But, deep down, you have memories of this place too. But you are young. A newborn. You scarcely grasp the truth of things in the way I can.


    Coin grimaced, trying to snap himself from his stupor. "I... I don''t know what this place is!" Which seemed to be partially true. Whatever the strange sense of familiarity assaulting his mind was, he had no way of knowing where it was coming from.


    The strange voice in his head ignored his protests.


    Animus.


    The word struck his mind like a bolt of lightning. Coin''s body shook from head to toe, a startled gasp rising in his throat.


    He didn''t know what it meant, but something about the word made his chest tighten.


    The drive to live. The fundamental power to exist. Able to give consciousness to formless, mindless flesh.


    Coin grimaced as a wave of pain rolled through his head. The underground city melted away in a flurry of smoke, replaced with surroundings that were genuinely familiar to Coin.


    The dark, fungus-filled corridors of the Thaeka temple.


    A shape scuttled past him. Coin froze as he laid eyes on it. A treasure chest, walking on four limbs. Coin''s blood ran cold.


    "That''s... me."


    The sense of familiarity struck him tenfold stronger. There was no denying it. Just as the presence showed him its memories, now it was experiencing his.


    He followed after the echo of his past as it crept through the darkness of the old temple. Until both he and his past self came to an abrupt stop at the sight of a corpse.


    "And that''s that wizard. The one that..." Curiosity gripped him with greater intensity. He made his way forward while his past self sniffed at the corpse, acting out the moments before his evolution began. A chance, Coin reasoned, to see the potion that helped him evolve.


    Sure enough, a glass vial was hitched to the belt of the corpse. It was filled with a cloudy green liquid. He leaned in for a closer look and tapped the glass. It was far sturdier than he was expected. The kind of glass that could withstand a hammer blow without incident.


    Yet the more he stared at the potion, the stranger it seemed. The liquid inside seemed to be moving of its own accord. Silvery wisps swam through the liquid, steadily shaping themselves until something that look like a face had taken form inside the glass.


    Animus. As I thought. You are indeed like me.


    Coin tensed. "What... do you mean?" He couldn''t look away from the glass. The face in side the bottle took on a more define shape, eyeless sockets staring directly into his very soul.


    It felt like, in that moment, he was looking at his own reflection.


    His past self got to eating, pulling the wizard''s corpse toward his toothy lid. Coin swallowed hard, time grinding to a halt as those gleaming fangs started to hover over the strange glass bottle.


    Did you truly believe a random potion made you into what you were? No. It was no mere alchemy that gave us our minds.


    Darkness suddenly swam at the edges of Coin''s vision. He groaned and clutched at the sides of his head, a powerful tremor shaking the temple.


    The distant, thunderous voice groaned too. But, to such a vast entity, it was a noise like tectonic plates colliding.


    Communicating in this way is... difficult. Strenuous. I must withdraw. But we shall communicate again.


    Coin opened his mouth to speak, just as the world around him dissolved into an erupting tide of blackness. The swarming smoke flooded his mouth and nose, strangling him and choking out whatever air was in his lungs.


    Coin snapped his eyes open and sprang bolt upright in bed. He stared about with wide, frantic eyes. Now he was back in the room of the guest house, shrouded in the dark of the night. He saw nothing. Heard nothing. Just the room, and a silence only broken by his own panicked breathing.


    His head ached something fierce, the mimic groaning and screwing his eyes tight. He tried to remember what he had been dreaming of, the strange stream of memories that was fast fading from his conscious mind.


    Dreams were fleeting things, even those born of psionic pressure. All Coin could really recall in his ailing state was an endless darkness, staring into a reflection that was not his own, and one word... Animus.


    He stared out of the window for several long moments, without breathing or thinking on much of anything. The dull ache in his head warded all attempts at complex thought. His mind grew calm, all thoughts melting away save for one foreboding notion that loomed large in his mind.


    There was something out there in the world, something huge, fixated on him. And it was drawing closer.

 Chapter 40 - Money Making Opportunity

    Coin did not sleep much for the rest of that night. Whatever slumber he did get was fleeting and light, devoid of any dreams. When the morning finally came, whatever he could remember of his encounter was hazy at best.


    For as vivid as his dream had been in the moment, his mind struggled to grasp any of it in the aftermath. And, as a result, he couldn''t bring himself to talk about any of it.


    If he did, all he could think to say was that he had had a bad dream that left him feeling rather uncomfortable. And with so little detail to provide, it wasn''t like anyone could offer him much in the realm of aid or comfort.


    As far as Coin was concerned, there was no point in talking about it if he couldn''t even begin to articulate his issues. He just put on a brave face and settled into his seat when the time came to leave the Froth estate.


    They pressed on toward Grafia, under a cloudless sky vibrant with the glow of the late morning sun. Yet, as they travelled, Coin couldn''t help but take note of the tracks that had wound ahead of them for their entire trip thus far.


    Wagon tracks that had hewn deep furrows in the road, punctuated by an abundance of hoofprints. Seeing Coin''s curiosity, Elijah spoke up. "Seems a convoy went ahead of us. Either last night or rather early this morning."


    "A lot of horses by the look of things," Coin mused, adjusting his hold on Dancer''s reins. His voice was heavy with fatigue, each word emerging with laboured effort.


    "And with armoured wagons, for the tracks to be this deep. Must''ve been in a mad rush," Elijah murmured.


    "Should we... be worried?" Coin asked. He''d saved his group from one ambush already, but he''d do it again if he had to.


    "Oh, I doubt it''s any criminal group. Or, at least, not highwaymen. They wouldn''t travel in such a large, loud group, for one thing," Pearl said from atop her mount.


    "She has a point. And highwaymen wouldn''t want to give upcoming marks a reason to be wary in advance," Elijah said. "Keep an eye on the treeline, just in case, but by my reckoning we ought to be safe."


    Coin nodded, occasionally sniffing the air from where he sat. The increasingly familiar scent of horse hung in the air, distinct from that of Pearl''s steed. But whoever was ahead of them had put in a considerable distance, and he smelled no human presence nearby.


    Grafia was, fortunately, not too far from Gilly Froth''s estate. Indeed, as they reached a bend in the road, it was easy to see the rest of the broad dirt track weaving towards the edge of the town.


    The town consisted of an abundance of squad buildings, mostly built from red brick while a few of the newer structures on the edge of town were shabby wooden homes. A great rocky bill dominated the rear of the town, and even from a distance it wasn''t hard to see the mine entrances that had been carved into the surface.


    And then, further beyond the hills, one could just glimpse the coast. Coin briefly grew still at the sight of it. The tip of Arcadia, and the sea beyond. Coin tried to comprehend how large the sea actually was, relative to the land. Then it gave him a headache, and he promptly stopped dwelling on it.


    "So we can get this... black powder down in Grafia?" he asked.


    Elijah nodded. "A healthy amount of it is produced in this region. The ingredients for the concoction can be found in abundance, and the local alchemists produce plenty of it for a tidy sum. I have a few friends out here who owe me some favours, and we''ll be sure to get them shipping some supplies to Valle."


    "Arms dealing?" Pearl asked, tilting her head. "Seems I''m in the company of dangerous men."


    "Are you sure we can actually trust Valle? You seemed uncertain when he extended that offer to us," Coin remarked. But it was apparently perfectly legal to sell things to people that could be used to kill other people. It was a positively affluent industry, as it turned out. So what was the harm?


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Elijah shrugged. "Valle is a troubled man. I''ll admit I was a little bit wary about doing this favour for him. But I think he''s good at heart. Doubt he''d be involved in people who aren''t above board. When it comes to who he sells his weaponry to, at least."


    Essine stirred in the rear of the wagon. "This one trusts your judgement. But black powder is very dangerous, the thought of sitting anywhere near a barrel of the stuff is... disconcerting," she admitted.


    "Understandable," Elijah said. "That technology has become a bit of a terrible burden on the world in the years since cannons were invented. In the olden days, the most devastating thing to see on the battlefield was a wizard. Now it seems every army can field the firepower of several wizards if they have enough cannons and black powder to hand. The noise during the revolution... bloody deafening, and terrifying."


    "Oh, certainly. I had the misfortune of seeing the aftermath of a battlefield out in Guhldea. Dreadful stuff. Fields of craters, human pulp and body parts littered about the place." Pearl sucked air through her teeth and shook her head. "Gruesome."


    "Sure sounds that way," Coin admitted. He imagined a battlefield of human pulp and dislocated body parts. His mouth watered a bit.


    The gate guards, who looked like piles of mutton who had been crudely shaped into their surcoats, waved the group toward the town stables without bothering to check what their cargo was. It was hot, it was early, and frankly it would have been too much of a hassle to do a contraband check.


    Pearl smiling and batting her eyelashes helped too.


    After lodging Dancer for the night, the group pressed into Grafia proper. Essine stuck close to Coin''s side for the journey, her tail swishing slowly from side to side.


    The town was roughly the same size as Wheat Valley, but certainly grimier than the other town had been. A thick ashen smell hung in the air, making Coin wince and wrinkle his nose the first time he took a breath in. He glanced toward the hill, able to see plumes of pale smoke rising from rows of chimneys.


    They did not have to go far to reach their destination: A looming grey stone building that had a flowing banner on either side of the entryway. A brass sign was screwed above the door, the inscribed lettering reading: Morley''s Alchemical Goods.


    "Here we are," Elijah said, pushing the door in. A strong chemical scent hit Coin on the way inside, like an open-handed slap. It was harsh, bitter, and smoky. "Morley!" he called.


    Coin and the others came to a halt, stunned at the sight of the truly massive man who was seated behind the counter. The man''s hairy arms, exposed by his rolled-up sleeves, looked broad enough that he could snap another man like a twig. His jutting brow was covered by a thick pair eyebrows, blacker than a forest in the dead of night, and cast a shadow thick enough to shade his eyes entirely.


    Morley snorted, rustling the hairs of his brush-like moustache. "Elijah. Been a while," he simply said, brushing at his soot-stained smock.


    "Far too long, far too long," Elijah replied, chortling. "How are the kids?"


    "Loud an'' irritating."


    "Ah. Same as ever then." He turned to regard the others. "I''ll be here a while. Morley can be a bit of a chatterbox when he gets going."


    "Aye." The giant man slowly snorted. "Could jaw the ear off the Goddess if I wanted to," he added, speaking as if he was polishing each syllable before he spoke it.


    "Er, alright. Well I imagine we''ll be lodging here for the night, so I''ll get that set up for us," Coin replied, raising a hand.


    Morley rose from the chair behind him, his broad shoulder eclipsing the weighty cabinet of alchemical bottles behind him. "Try the Fisher''s Haunt. It''s just up the road from here, has a big salmon-shaped sign over the door."


    Coin nodded toward the giant man. "Of course. My thanks." He turned and led the way out, flanked on either side by Pearl and Essine.


    "Such a foul smell in that building," Essine murmured, pinching at her muzzle.


    "I know, right? Felt it scorching inside my nose."


    Pearl regarded the two warily. "Eh? I didn''t smell too much of anything. Nothing that strong, at least."


    "Ah, well," Coin sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "My... nose is sensitive, I suppose."


    The kobold turned, looking up at his eyes while tenting her clawed fingers together. "I... need to go shopping for supplies." She hesitated. "Would you-"


    "I''ll accompany you," he simply replied.


    Essine brightened, her eyes widening and her ears standing to attention. "Oh, wonderful! I greatly appreciate it."


    Coin gave Pearl an aside glance. "She was attacked the last time she went to buy supplies," he explained.


    "How dreadful. Kobold or otherwise, a lady should be free to walk the streets unharmed. Such brutish times we live in," she replied, shaking her head slowly. "But, if we''re handling errands... I think I have a rather nice money making opportunity in mind."


    The mention of making money made Coin''s spine stiffen. "Is that so?" he warily asked.


    "I have a friend who has performed in this town before, and he told me there''s an alehouse popular among the miners. Bit of a... rough scene, you see. They money is good, certainly, but those fellows tend to get violent with each other. And, certainly, I could do with the help of a... handsome, strong fellow to provide security if I perform there."


    A tiny growl rose in Essine''s throat, her eyes briefly narrowing.


    "Well... for a little bit of money... I''m more than happy to do a little bit of bodyguard work."


    What was the harm?

 Chapter 41 - Get to Singing

    After dealing with their prior commitments, purchasing supplies and renting lodgings at the Fisher''s Haunt, they ventured toward the alehouse Pearl had told them about.


    The sun was already starting to dip by the time they made their way inside, and the dimly wooden interior of the tavern was already filled with a few soot-stained men who were enjoying an early evening drink.


    They barely looked at the trio as they made their way inside.


    The back room, where the owner resided, was a narrow coffin of a room. A scrawny man sat by a desk, munching strips of fried chicken in his grease-stained hands. Surprisingly, for Coin, a kobold was behind the desk, muttering as he read through the ledger beside him and made meticulous notes.


    "Hail to you, good ser!" Pearl called, resting a hand on her lute. "Any chance you need any performers tonight?"


    The man glanced up, his unibrow furrowing. "Oh, a bard?" he asked. "Suppose it couldn''t hurt. Our juggler broke his balls, y''see."


    Pearl''s smile grew slightly uneasy. "Well he... could surely buy new ones?"


    The owner solemnly shook his head. "Not that kind, ye can''t." He cleared his throat. "Er, anyway, I can afford to give you... fifty for the night? And you can keep seventy percent of any tips you get."


    "Eighty," Coin interjected.


    The owner blinked a few times. "Eh?" he asked, eventually.


    "Pearl is very talented. So good, in fact, that she was recently held captive as a result of her skills. She deserves more money."


    The kobold looked up from the ledgers. "At this time of week, we''re bound to have many customers, Riggo. We do need the entertainment, lest things get testy." He spoke with a better grasp of common tongue than Essine.


    "Shut up Syric," the owner hissed. He took a breath through his nose. "I ain''t made a'' money. But how about sixty?"


    Coin turned to the bard, who bore a sly smile on her face. "Seventy?" he suggested. She nodded.


    Riggo grunted and motioned to a lockbox beside the kobold, who proceeded to create several small stacks. "You''ll get half now, an'' half when you''re done," the owner said, before going back to his meal.


    "Wonderful," Pearl said, taking the offered stack of coins. "Come the middle of the night, you''ll have a whole alehouse of singing, happy drunks."


    And so they set off, with Pearl setting up with her lute near the rear of the room. Coin took up a spot only a few paces from the modest stage, while Essine bought an ale for herself.


    In the grand history of Arcadian tavern performances, there was nothing particularly distinct about Pearl''s performance. Her music was good, as ever, even managing to hold the attention of several burly drunks (even if many of them were more interested in Pearl''s physique than her music).


    Occasionally, ducats would be tossed to the stage and Coin would hastily scoop up each one before they even stopped spinning on the varnished wooden floor. More than once a man got too belligerent and tried to approach the stage.


    With these fellows, Coin would initially try to politely guide them away. When they refused, as drunks often did when they felt they were being challenged, he''d knock ''em flat with a well-calculated punch.


    It was a challenge to gauge his own strength. By now Coin had devoured so much biomass that he could easily punch a man''s head clean off if he wasn''t careful. It was one thing to kill armed men but society, as a rule, frowned upon unarmed fools getting torn limb from limb.


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    The average town guard would consider it an excessive use of force, and ¡®a little bit rude.¡¯


    But, for the most part, the drunks were more interested in brawling with each other than their new bard. Coin watched, calmly, scanning the rowdy crowd for anyone who ran the risk of breaking ranks. And as he did so, he couldn''t help but fixate on one man in particular near the back of the alehouse.


    All intelligent beings are only able to evolve to that point by developing an ability to suss out danger, to recognise a potentially harmful person or item with a glance. And the man his eyes settled on managed to set off every survival instinct alarm bell in the back of his head.


    He was a somewhat short and stocky man, dressed in surprisingly clean green robes. His greying beard was oiled and styled into a point, the hair atop his head faintly thinning. His jutting brow was tanned and lined with many wrinkles. He wasn''t a miner, clearly, but the locals paid him little mind.


    At a glance he did not seem too imposing, compared to the brawny men who surrounded him. But there was something in his eyes that immediately stood out to Coin, a merciless coldness that reminded him of some of the more brutal adventurers he''d had to deal with in the past.


    It was easy to tell when a person had killed in cold blood. Their eyes gave them away.


    Pearl exhaled as she finished her last song for the night, lifting one hand and repeatedly flexing her fingers. "Goodness," she said in a low voice, managing a small smirk. "So good to play for a crowd of my own volition."


    "This one does not believe they are the most attentive audience," Essine murmured from where she sat.


    "Still..." Coin raised his hands, exposing the modest stack of coins they had been given. "Not a bad haul." He regarded the man from the corner of his eye as he spoke, the bearded stranger having a hushed conversation with a rather burly miner.


    Something about him just really made Coin uneasy. They had nearly been attacked once on the road, by people who were apparently on the lookout for their haul specifically. Could other criminals have been told to seek them out?


    Elijah made his way inside from the entryway, dusting his hands off as he went. "There you are," he said, managing a wry chuckle. "Goodness. I was wondering where you lot ran off to."


    Coin looked beyond his shoulder to the street outside. It was already getting dark, and a gentle rainfall was starting to patter on the paved streets.


    "Decided to earn a little extra coin while we were in the area," Pearl replied. She sighed dreamily, tucking her lute onto her lap. "I was worried I was getting rusty."


    "Mm, well, fortunately you know how to make some money my lass," he said, smiling and stopping near the stage. "Although... we should probably try and beat a bit of a retreat," he said, looking to the crowd.


    By now a bit of a clamour had risen in the middle of the alehouse, with two very large men drunkenly shouting at each other. Whatever they were saying was rendered unintelligible in a slew of slurring snarls.


    Coin strained his ears as best he could, but even that did little to help him make anything out. At best he believed one man called the other man a limp wristed... sack of sheets, to which the other called the first man a fat... birch.


    And on and on the namecalling went, both men drawing in closer until they were nose to nose. At which point the first men said something about the second man''s father (something about romancing a goat, Coin didn''t hear all the details) that made the man flush purple with rage. And just like that the fists were flying, a brawl that dragged in more and more people in a maelstrom of flying fists and furniture.


    "Oh dear," Essine murmured, nearly dropping her tankard in shock.


    "Let''s, er, be on our way, shall we?" Elijah suggested.


    "Oh, I haven''t settled up with the owner yet," Pearl murmured, warily watching the chaos as it unfolded.


    A stool flew through the air, whipped with the force of a javelin, making a beeline for Elijah''s brow. Coin caught it by the leg mid-flight, the jolting shock of it all nearly knocking the old man over.


    "G-good grief!" he cried.


    "You should... perhaps settle up in the morning," Essine murmured.


    "Agreed," Pearl stiffly replied.


    The group hastily scurried around the chaos, making for the back exit to avoid the brawl as it shifted around the alehouse. And, as they went, Coin couldn''t help but see that the strange man he''d seen earlier wasn''t in the crowd. He wasn''t in the alehouse at all.


    They emerged onto the damp backstreets, rife with a pungent smell of stale vomit. "Well!" Pearl said, forcing a smile. "That was... interesting. I suppose. Those rough customers were a tad rougher than I expected."


    "Mm. Agreed," Elijah murmured. "We should perhaps turn in for the night. Nearly getting my skull caved in has left me rather tired." He offered Coin a smile. "Thanks again, my lad. You''re a real hero."


    "Oh, I... I wouldn''t go that far," Coin replied, laughing nervously. His eyes peered into the gloom beyond, the streets filled with a slowly rising fog. He caught a fleeting glimpse of the mysterious man, chattering with his cohort as they left the alehouse behind.


    The man turned in the dark, briefly watching Coin and his group, before pressing onward.


    Coin frowned. Maybe he was just being paranoid. But if there was even a slight chance of danger, he couldn''t entirely disregard it. He''d need to follow the fellow, see what he was up to, just to put his mind at ease.


    "Oh, damn," Coin said, stiffly patting at the outer pockets of his coat. "I er, I think I forgot something back at the shops earlier. You should go on ahead of me, I''ll meet you all back at the inn later."


    "Well... if you''re sure. I''d tell you to stay safe but frankly I think you''re indestructible," Elijah said as Coin turned to leave.


    A nervous burst of laughter escaped Coin as he vanished into the fog. "You and your jokes!" he called back.

 Chapter 42 - Prowling and Stalking

    The two strangers wound a lengthy path through the foggy streets of the town, the rain growing steadily heavier all the while. Coin had hopped onto the roof of one of the squat buildings as he followed, clinging to the chimneys and spires for coverage.


    Eventually their pacing brought them to the eastern edge of town, a region dominated by an assortment of rundown structures. Coin halted on his perch, watching the two venture into the crumbling husk of an abandoned building.


    Coin waited for several moments, debating whether or not to go further in pursuing the two. It was entirely possible he was wasting his time, driven by his own paranoia. But one group of criminals had already gone after him, and it was entirely possible there were more of them out there.


    Just a little more, he told himself. Just to put his mind ease.


    He drew biomass toward his legs, his muscles growing larger and more defined. A harsh leap flung him from his perch, crossing the gap between the streets. He landed atop the scorched ruin of a windowsill across the street, flakes of ash crumbling under his heels and floating away.


    The interior of the building was just as much of a ruin as the exterior. Fire had gnawed and blackened every wooden surface, while the stone walls were rife with mildew and moss. A general scent of decay hung in the air.


    Coin crept forward in silence, passing the abandoned room and reaching the crest of the stairs. He peered down, the crumbling, collapsing walls giving him a clear view of a large cellar door being watched over by a burly man in a flowing blue coat. He perked up as the two men from the alehouse approached.


    "Coris. Andrele," he said, glancing to the man in green, then to the burlier man.


    "Bernard," Coris replied, nodding. "The sword rises in the east."


    "And is sheathed in the west," Bernard replied. He paced away from the door and wrenched it over. The metal was thick, sturdy, and clearly newer than the rest of the ruined building. "Go on through. Big things tonight."


    "I''d imagine so. Goodness, it''s about time we got to see something impressive for how long this project has been talked up," Coris said, his voice a hoarse growl. Bernard stood by as the two men stepped down into the cellar and then closed the way behind him.


    A tiny curious hum rose in Coin''s throat. It seemed, at a glance, that these men were no threat to his group. As strange as all this was, it really wasn''t any of his business. But, on the other hand, now he was curious. Whatever was going in down there, he wanted to see.


    But how best to do so? He probably could just brute force his way through, of course, but with how secretive everything was Coin was certain that would put an abrupt end to the meeting, He pondered the words the two men had exchanged. Some kind of password? Maybe. But it seemed unlikely even that would grant entrance to a total stranger.


    What if he didn''t look like a stranger? Certainly, Coin could change his face to mimic that of any human. If he had a better idea of who else came by here, he could have a way in...


    As the thought crossed his mind, another man stomped in from the rain, grunting as he shook the moisture from his oiled coat. "Damnation," he barked as he trod toward Bernard. "Bloody wet night. Go figure."


    "Usually happens whenever these meetings are going on," Bernard said, lazily shrugging his broad shoulders.


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    "Hear it''s a big one tonight," the strange said, removing his cap and wringing some of the moisture from it. "Saw the wagon coming in earlier today."


    "Ay, well, if you''re here, Toller," Bernard wrenched the trapdoor open again, and held it open until Toller gripped the metal. "Means you''re my relief. So I get to see what all the fuss is about."


    "Yeah, it''s exciting and all, but..." He screwed his face in disgust. "Bein'' down there in the dark, with all them... critters. Gives me the creeps."


    Bernard shrugged and slowly made his way down the stairs. A faint light embraced him in the darkness. "Ain''t so bad when you get used to the smell," he called back.


    Coin stroked his chin as the trap door was closed. Now he was even more curious. And it wasn''t as if he was in any hurry to get back to the inn.


    Bernard may have seen Coris, but... Toller hadn''t. Coin grinned and paced toward a puddle that was steadily forming in the floor, rainwater rushing from the gaps in the ceiling above. His reflection was dark and murky, but he was still able to see clearly enough to sculpt his face.


    Thank goodness he had spent so long staring at Coris in the alehouse. It gave him a solid frame of reference for how he needed to look. A protruding nose, a faded scar on the right side of his forehead, a complexion paler than Coin''s normal tone, a chin coated by a ragged scruff of dark hair.


    Coin clambered down the front of the building, to the street below shrouded in fog. He ventured deeper into the building, pausing only briefly when Toller looked his way. "Oh, Coris," he greeted, inclining his fat head toward the mimic.


    "The sword rises in the east," Coin called, straining his voice to render it harsher, closer to Coris'' pitch. Manipulating his vocal chords for precision was much more taxing that just changing his face.


    "And is sheathed in the west," Toller replied. He sniffed loudly. "Woulda'' thought you''d be here before now. You''re usually the punctual sort."


    "I got held up on business," Coin grunted, rubbing his neck as he spoke.


    "Aye? Another contract?" Toller chuckled and moved to open the trap door. "Feel bad for whatever bastard you had on the end of your knife. Shake a leg, you don''t want to miss whatever this is."


    "Aye. I really don''t," Coin admitted, venturing into the darkness of the cellar. He lingered until the trap door was closed behind him, leaving him barely illuminated in the glow of a nearby lantern.


    It was, at a glance, an unremarkable underground chamber, the walls dusty and speckled with cobwebs. But any illusion of normalcy was shattered by the broken wall at the far end of the room, revealing a darkened tunnel that led deeper into the earth. He couldn''t see any other people further beyond in the gloom, but he could take in the scent of sweat and ash.


    "Now what to do?" Coin murmured under his breath. Maintaining this disguise wouldn''t be worth much if he passed by anyone who had seen Coris passing by previously. Or, worse, if he accidentally stumbled onto Coris himself while wearing his face, Yes, something like that was bound to raise concerns, humans didn''t like bumping into doppelgangers. And wearing the face of a total stranger, who nobody recognised, would get people asking... questions.


    Still, for a mimic, there was no harm in going back to basics.


    In an instant his flesh began to bubble and morph. like dripping candlewax, before moving about in a whirlwind of pale biomass. The shifting sludge encompassed his clothing, fleshy tendrils swiftly and neatly folding his garments into a stack. The flesh closed around the bundled clothing, outer skin changing and warping until it adopted a texture and colour like varnished wood.


    For the first time in... quite some time, Coin was a walking treasure chest again. He wasn''t quite sure how he felt about it. There was a comforting familiarity to it, a warmth that soothed the worries in his nerves. But, on the other hand, part of him feared that he''d go back to being a brainless monster if he stayed in this form for too long, drawn in by the comforting fog of nostalgia.


    An irrational fear, perhaps. But irrationality was a luxury beloved by intelligent species'' across the multiverse.


    He clambered about on elongated limbs, venturing into the inviting darkness of the tunnel. His eyes and ears, keenly tuned from a lifetime spent living in a ruin, would alert him to any people and give him ample time to assume a hiding spot.


    The dirt-lined tunnel wound deeper into the ground, with wooden support struts erected at set points throughout to provide stability. Whatever this place was it had clearly been hidden under the town for some time. A tunnel so long, with branching rooms and pathways, could hardly be erected in a short span of time.


    And certainly not unnoticed, unless the builders were cautious and skilled in their work.


    Occasionally, when he sensed someone approaching from somewhere ahead, he would scuttle into cover among the many stacks of containers and crates dotted about the tunnel. And they would pass by, none the wiser of his presence once he tucked his limbs under his base.


    That comfortable feeling of familiarity only grew stronger. Coin liked being a human, of course, but there was such a thrill to following his old instincts.


    But, eventually, his roaming brought him to what seemed to be the heart of the underground structure. A great cavern, illuminated by a myriad of lanterns and torches placed strategically around the chamber. A wooden stage was erected on the far side, a maroon curtain obscuring the backstage.


    Coin, wreathed in shadow, clambered atop a series of crates as a makeshift perch. From his vantage point he could a crowd gathered before the stage. Many of them were humans, a few elves and gnomes were scattered among the crowd.


    But the majority of the audience consisted of goblins.

 Chapter 43 - Black Powder Bang

    A hush fell over the cavern. Even the goblins reduced their nattering to a low muttering. Which, for goblins, was as close to silence as one could hope.


    The curtains parted to reveal three figures: A burly dark-skinned man in a polished steel breastplate and baggy trousers, a smiling and beautiful orange-haired woman in leather armour who held no mirth or empathy in her eyes, and a scrawny man who was gagged and bound with ropes.


    Coin watched silently, motionless as a normal treasure chest. Seemed he hadn''t lost any of that skill, at least.


    The dark-skinned man strode to the head of the stage, watched by the crowd in silent awe. "There was a time, long ago, when the Brotherhood of the Dagger was revered as the personal blade of the royal family. The most respected wing of Arcadia''s army, who personally snuffed threats to the crown."


    A few mutters of approval broke out among the humans. The goblins couldn''t have looked less interested.


    "But when the royal family fell, so too did we. Velasco, the pretender, saw us as a threat to his usurping rule. A representative of the true, natural order of Arcadia who could bring his tyranny to a halt. And so we were hunted, driven to the shadows by his bloodhounds. Yet, ultimately, the shadows are our domain. We rule, undeterred by their vain efforts!"


    A chorus of shouts rose among the crowd, several men pumping their fists in the air enthusiastically.


    "They robbed us!" one shouted.


    "Death to Velasco!" cried another.


    A third man said something so obscene that it would offend the eyeballs of most decent readers, but it involved applying a sausage grinder to a specific part of Velasco''s anatomy.


    Meanwhile, the beautiful girl on stage smiled and adjusted her ivory scarf. She said little, but there was a predatory glint in her eyes as she scanned the crowd.


    "Though we have been driven to obscurity, we are not bested. And in our suffering, we have found kindred spirits among our... goblin brethren," the man said, forcing a smile. "Two groups of people, marginalized and maligned. Yet now, united under Lord Bleak, we have a common leader and a common goal. To exterminate the current order, and established a new reign!"


    The cheer in the cavern was nearly deafening, even the goblins getting involved this time. Coin was fascinated, lifting his lid in the way a normal man would let his jaw drop.


    In all his dealings with goblins, he had known them to be aggressive, stupid, and violent. They cared only for their own kin. Evolution had thoroughly bred that belief into them, where any non-goblin was a prospective threat.


    Not that other goblins weren''t a prospective threat, some goblins would kill their own mothers to have an extra rat to eat, but they could trust each other more than any other species.


    Yet here they were, cheering alongside other races, aligned to the same cause. It seemed impossible. It should have been. Yet here they all were, under the banner of some... ''Lord Bleak.'' The name gave Coin pause. Another royal was causing all this?


    The concept of a glamorous, ego-stroking nom de guerre flew directly over Coin''s head.


    "Kill ''em good!" one goblin snarled, shocking Coin all the more. He''d never known a goblin to speak common.


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    The speaker on stage sauntered over, making for a table partially obscured by the curtains. A cloth was draped on the table, disguising a bulging shape.


    "So far, we have fought harshly against our foes, striking towns and convoys where possible. But this is not how wars are won. Alas, even united, our numbers are slim when compared to that of the Arcadian army. Things being as they are? We would lose in a direct conflict. Unless..." He gripped the sheet and threw it aside.


    "Unless we had the means to even the odds."


    Coin strained his vision to get a better look at the... thing resting on the table. It was, at a glance, unremarkable. A strange metal tube roughly the length of a man''s hand, bolted to a wooden stock like that of a crossbow.


    The speaker lifted it into his hand. Coin tilted his lid forward, trying to better understand what he was looking at. It did not look much like a weapon. Most weapons Coin knew of were defined by sharp, pointed edges. And the few that weren''t, the bludgeoning implements, tended to be massive. This thing was smooth, steely, unassuming.


    Coin watched, transfixed, as the speaker lifted a lead ball from a pouch on his belt and slid it into the mouth of the tube.


    "The man kneeling beside our lovely Leona is a spy. A dog in service of the crown, caught while trying to probe our network. He will suffer the fate that all rats should suffer." A few goblins chattered excitedly, perhaps elated at the mention of the word ''rat'', expecting a hot meal to come their way.


    "What I hold in my hand is the newest gift from Lord Bleak. Masterfully crafted, a weapon of unparalleled lethality. The weapon that will be the death knell of Velasco''s regime." He motioned to Leona, who pulled the man''s head back and forced him to look the speaker in the eye. Now Coin had a better look at the man, and paid particular focus to the dense steel breastplate lashed to his chest.


    It too was masterfully crafted, the kind of armour that could take a blow from a warhammer without even furrowing.


    The speaker''s finger caressed the trigger of his weapon. "He calls it a hand cannon." A flash erupted from the weapon, near blinding in the murk of the cave, joined by a deafening bang. What happened in that instant happened so quickly that Coin''s mind briefly struggled to interpret it.


    But, in a single instant, the lead ball had exploded from the mouth of the hand cannon and cleave the air in twain. It struck the prisoner''s breastplate, tore through the dense steel as if it were mere cloth, drilled through the flesh beneath, and exploded out the man''s back in an eruption of gore that dripped across the stage.


    The man fell with a thud, twitched briefly, and bled to death then and there.


    A hush fell over the chamber, widened, shocked eyes affixed to the hand cannon. "A weapon with much more power, range, and accuracy than a crossbow. Strong enough to punch through the sturdiest plate. Imagine an entire army of our fellows, armed with such weapons. A single salvo, and we could cut down a swathe of our enemies."


    The speaker pulled a small pouch from his belt and slowly tipped a serving of black powder into the opening of his weapon. "As we speak, we have groups of labourers steadily constructing more and more of these weapons. Our dear friend, Ser Irons, is already preparing more ammunition for us."


    A chill raced through Coin''s body. The mimic stirred, despite himself. Irons was involved? Elijah had been wary of the man, but ultimately had chosen to trust him. And now he was supplying materials to people like this?


    His mind reeled, shifting toward their mission. They''d come out this way to get black powder for Valle, and there was no doubt in his mind that it was connected to this strange, secret group too. That any powder given over would be repurposed by these people.


    Without even knowing it, they''d been roped into plot to bring wholesale slaughter to Arcadia!


    Cheers rose from the crowd, goblins jumping up and down with rabid excitement. Even the humans were nearly dancing where they stood. A weapon like that, it was the kind of advantage that could greatly make up for a gap in manpower against their opponent.


    Leona, meanwhile, scanned the crowd with a small smile. She seemed to inspect the entire room with uncanny quickness, even toward the shaded storage area that overlooked the stage. And there her eyes beheld something that really shouldn''t have been there.


    Evolution was a strange process, having a different effect on every species. Some creatures, such as mimics and sloths, had evolved to be able to remain completely stationary for hours at a time, uninterrupted. Academics of arcadia had taken to calling this evolutionary trait the ''lazy bastard gene.''


    For a normal mimic, being as stationary as a statue (or, a treasure chest more commonly) was trivial. They had no thoughts in their heads beyond eating and hoarding, and could gladly sit around and await an opportunity for either, unless they were gripped by a truly desperate hunger.


    But Coin, burdened by a brain full of thoughts and ideas, could not be as motionless as he used to be. His active mind and restless limbs simply couldn''t abide it. And in his fascination, and mounting horror, he had leered forward where he sat, creating a gruesome fanged shape, protruding in the darkness and breathing uneasily.


    The speaker, who had been in the process of loading another lead ball, followed the path of Leona''s eyes. He paled, his jaw briefly loosening. "What in the Bleak is that?!"


    All eyes turned to Coin. The mimic froze in place, his fanged jaw rigid in place.


    A shocked clamour rose from the crowd, many of them reaching for their weapons. Swords and hatchets glinted in the firelight, while the speaker finished reloading his hand cannon.


    Coin lurched onto his elongated limbs, just as the crowd started surging to his hiding spot, and did the one thing he could think to do in that moment:


    He ran for dear life.

 Chapter 44 - On The Run

    The crack of a shot echoed through the cavern, a leaden ball cleaving the air and zooming toward Coin as he tried to flee. It was, unsurprisingly, harder to hit a moving target than it was to shoot a bound, kneeling man.


    Even so, the ball managed to graze one of Coin''s shoulders, tearing a bloodied chunk in passing. Coin hissed but pressed on, doing his best to ignore the pain. He''d taken hard knocks before, but that ball struck far harder than any arrow could dream of. An image flashed in his mind, of a horde of goblins armed with such weapons, shredding a fleet of human soldiers with dreadful ease. If they had enough black powder and lead balls, they could cut through any fighting force.


    Lord Bleak, whoever he was, had stumbled upon a weapon that would forever change the face of warfare in the land.


    Coin wound his way back through the dirt tunnels at an uncanny speed, the noise of shouts and pounding footsteps reverberating around him. But the mimic was quick, even without amplifying himself further with his reserves of absorbed strength, he could easily outrun a normal crowd.


    He just needed to escape the hatch in the abandoned house, and into the foggy streets of Grafia outside. Coin doubted a gang of clandestine criminals would want to chase him into the open, exposing themselves in such a way. Still, he couldn''t risk them catching up to him.


    His left arm ached with every movement, blackened blood hissing from the wound. The torn flesh knit itself back together, drawing on Coin''s latent biomass. But, even after closing it, the pain in his muscles lingered.


    Coin swept the claws of his right hand into the ceiling, tearing chunks of rock and dirt from the compacted ceiling. A tremor shook the tunnel, a swathe of it collapsing behind him in a tide of dusty debris. Not enough to block the tunnel entirely, but the chunks of rock would take time to scramble over.


    He had assumed, in that moment, that none of the mysterious crooks would be able to catch up to him.


    A throwing knife whistled through the air, thudding into Coin''s right thigh with uncanny speed and force. He hissed, stumbled, and flexed the flesh of his leg to jettison the blade. Turning, he scuttled away and narrowly avoided a swipe from Leona as she vaulted the rubble and lunged at him.


    She was fast, inhumanly so, her twin blades whistling through the air toward him in a flurry. Coin only barely dodged them, scuttling backward through the cave. An eye formed on the back of his lid, allowing him to see where he was going.


    "Don''t know why a mimic is down here," Leona said, lifting and thrusting her left sword forward. It gazed his lid, nicking the sturdy flesh. "But it doesn''t much matter to me!"


    Coin lashed his tongue outward, the tip sharper than a spearpoint, aimed squarely at Leona''s throat. She sidestepped him, swept a blade up, and sliced his tongue.


    Snarling, Coin sucked his bleeding tongue back into his maw. That was new. She was a cut above the rabble of adventurers he''d killed in the past, that was for sure, both in her speed and the high grade material of her meticulously maintained swords. But he was a cut above any mimics she may have met before.


    Inwardly, a meteorite ring shifted inside his flesh and started migrating toward his clawed right hand. He swung at her a few times, but she pirouetted away from his attacks with a smile painted on her pretty face.


    "What''s the matter?" she mocked, tilting her head and sneering down at Coin. "Want to make a meal of me? Too bad, you''ll starve in the attempt!"


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    The shouts from the crowd were echoing up the tunnel, now mixed with the noise of men cursing at each other. The shaft was perhaps wide enough for three men to comfortably walk abreast through. But a miniature army, frantic and hopped up as they were, were getting stuck and tripping over each other.


    Coin jumped back, progressively drawing closer to the entrance of the abandoned cellar. Leona pressed her assault all the while, growing faster and more aggressive until her movements became a blur. Her smaller frame worked to her advantage in the confines of the tunnel, dodging away from Coin''s jabs and swipes.


    Coin hardened the flesh of his trunk just as one of Leona''s blades swept down toward him. "You can choke on my steel if you''d like!"


    The ring emerged on Coin''s right hand, half-embedded in his flesh. "Shut up!" he spat, his tone venomous and his voice an inhuman snarl that echoed around the duo.


    The sight and sound of a mimic speaking stunned Leona mid-swing, giving Coin a chance to lift his hand. A strong gale of wind, launched from Coin''s palm, shook the tunnel and slammed into the assassin like a brick wall. She was flung off her feet, striking against the walls of the tunnel, and left tumbling unceremoniously onto her side.


    Leona struggled, seemingly aching from head to heel, and whipped a throwing blade toward Coin. The mimic''s hand, still upraised, flickered with a sudden and unfamiliar reflex. A concussive bolt of red light flashed in his palm, akin to the magic of the elven bandit he''d devoured a few days previously, shot from his palm and deflected the blade into the tunnel wall. A lingering numbness tingled in his palm.


    He had anticipated the possibility of absorbing that magical potential into himself, but he hadn''t expected that form of magic to come unbidden. Not that he was complaining...


    "What... in damnation?" Leona murmured.


    He should have killed her. Put her down then and there. She had seen too much, heard too much, knew that she wasn''t dealing with some ordinary cave monster. But already Coin could see long shadows advancing up the walls of the tunnel, flickering in the firelight. The precious seconds the act would take him would allow the goblins and their allies to close the gap. And if they had more of those... hand cannons...


    He turned and fled to the mouth of the tunnel, the eye of his back letting him see the first of the crowd rounding the corner. Leona was pushing herself to her feet, shouting and cursing, her pretty features twisted with rage.


    A hard punch from the mimic tore the metal cellar doors from their moorings, sending them cartwheeling across the dusty floor of the building.


    "What th-" Toller, in sluggish guard fashion, reached for the hatchet on his belt to cut down the unwelcome intruder. A dismissive swiping punch from Coin launched him away, leaving him sprawled in an unconscious heap in the next room. Coin scampered away, into the streets outside, where the downpour had become torrential and the fog had grown into a blinding thickness. The mist enveloped him like a shroud, his silhouette fading away from sight.


    The various criminals halted by the destroyed cellar doors, knowing that it would draw too much attention to chase the mimic. Slowly, begrudgingly, they began to retreat to the underground. As far as interruptions went, none of them had expected that. And the question of the shadowy mimic would dominate the group''s minds for that night.


    Coin scuttled through the soaked streets, using the fog and shadows to mask his movements. The town was mostly empty at this hour, save for the occasional roaming guard. And even their lanterns struggled to cut through the murk. Still, he couldn''t be too careful. He continued watching his back as he went, checking for any trace of a pursuit.


    Eventually he reached the backside of the Fisher''s Haunt. A few of the windows were illuminated by lamplight, but the majority of the rooms were dark at this late hour. Soon after renting a room for the night, before they ventured out to earn money with Pearl, Coin had put a few of his things aside and left his window open to air the room out.


    Now that same window was still open. He smiled with relief. Or, at least, smiled as best a treasure chest could.


    He scuttled up the wall with the quickness of a spider. His mass morphed and shifted to better fit through the gap in the window, emerging onto the floor as a writhing mass of waxy flesh. It swiftly reshaped in the dim light of the room, removing his clothing from its internal hiding place.


    Gooey limbs untangled themselves and elongated, sliding into his sleeves and trousers. In a matter of seconds his attire had unfolded and been filled by Coin''s shapeshifting flesh. The walking treasure chest had vanished, replaced entirely by Coin''s human visage.


    A low groan rose in his throat, the mimic briefly pressing his palms to his face. What a damn night. The men he''d followed hadn''t been seeking to harm his group, but the reality of the situation seemed to be much worse. A reality he was still grappling with, trying and failing to grasp the immensity of it all.


    A cabal of criminals, working with goblins to threaten the kingdom... And the man he and Elijah had cut a deal with was arming these people too. They had tripped and fallen headfirst into something dangerous. He''d have to tell Elijah, but... how would he explain the situation without giving away the details of his true nature?


    Questions and worries flooded his mind in a seemingly endless deluge as he slid his hands from his face. Coin turned toward the bed, figuring a night''s rest would help his mind make sense of his situation.


    And froze.


    Essine was sitting on his bed, staring at him with wide, stunned eyes.

 Chapter 45 - Calm Her Nerves

    Coin swept across the room in a blink of an eye, before Essine could open her mouth. He pressed two fingers to her muzzle to silence her and frantically looked around in the darkness, for fear that anyone else was hiding in the room.


    "I''m... it''s me, Essine, it''s me," Coin hastily told her, eyes wide with panic. "Just... please, don''t make too much noise."


    He withdrew his hand from the trembling kobold. "Y-you... Th-this one saw... you were... l-like ooze, a-and you... changed your shape. W-what is happening? How did... how did you do that?"


    Coin winced. He had hoped his secret would never be discovered, but that was perhaps pure optimism on his part. Deep down he knew he was going to slip up or be caught out eventually, he just assumed it would have taken longer. Or that he would have been exposed by something other than his own foolishness.


    A chill raced through his veins. He was willing to kill to protect these people. He was willing to kill to protect his secret. But was he willing to kill these people to protect his secret?


    That, he supposed, depended on what happened in this very moment.


    "I''m..." He grimaced. This was harder to admit than he expected, the words refusing to take root on his tongue. But what choice did he have? "What I''m about to tell you... you have to promise to keep it to yourself. To never tell a soul. Can you do that?"


    Essine, her eyes still wide with shock, offered him a nod. He wanted to believe he could trust her, but this was a matter of the utmost importance and secrecy.


    Coin took a breath. "I''m not a human. I''m a mimic," he whispered, fearful that the very floorboards beneath them would hear and rat him out.


    Essine''s mouth hung open for several moments, the only noise being the patter of the rain on the streets outside, her expression flickering as she digested this information. "The... treasure chests with eyes and teeth?"


    "We''re not... always treasure chests," Coin murmured.


    Essine''s eyes roamed up and down his body. "C-clearly not."


    "I''m... unique, I suppose," he said. "Some time ago, I accidentally ate a potion that did something... strange to me. Changed my mind, made me as smart as a human and filled me with ambition, and aspirations. The effect seems to be permanent." At least, he hoped so. Certainly, a long time had passed since the incident, and he was no dumber now. If the effect was to be undone, surely it would have happened by now.


    "That is... that is surprising indeed, Coin," the kobold replied. Her ears perked up a bit. "But... whether you are human, or mimic, or something else, this one... this one still trusts you. After all, you have given this one much kindness. You are much kinder than most humans."


    Coin frowned, glancing away from her. "I don''t know if I''d go that far." How kind was it to lie to everyone you knew? "But, remember, you need to keep this between us. Even Elijah doesn''t know,"


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    "Even your mentor?"


    The mimic nodded. "I wanted to keep it a secret. I wanted to make sure nobody knew the truth," he admitted. And, with each syllable spoken, an odd sense of... shame blossomed inside his gut. "I know how people treat my kind. And anyone who isn''t a human, an elf, or a gnome."


    Essine frowned, glancing away from him. "This one is aware." She probably understood better than most. "We do not all have the benefit of being able to blend in, as you do."


    "... right," Coin murmured.


    "This one will not tell your secret to anyone. That is a vow," Essine said. She reached out, hesitantly, and embraced his hand in her own. "Nor... nor does this one think less of you now. You are better than many humans this one has ever known."


    A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Coin''s mouth. "Thanks, Essine."


    "But... perhaps you should be honest with Elijah? He is a good man. Open minded too. This one doubts he will think less of you. But being dishonest... that may have negative consequences."


    "I... I know," Coin replied. But revealing your darkest secret to someone, even if you trusted them, was difficult. Particularly when Coin''s secret could potentially lead to him being hurt or killed for his true nature. "I... I will be truthful to him. I will, it''s... I just need time." At least, that was what Coin told himself.


    The kobold leaned forward. "Good. This one is relieved to see you again. But... Where were you? Why did you sneak in so late?"


    "Ah, that..." Coin sank back from the kobold, resting a hand against the footboard. "It''s... a long story. I''ll get into it tomorrow and explain the situation to Elijah... It impacts him too," he explained.


    But exactly how he''d relay the story was a question he was still trying to puzzle out. Ideally he could recount a version of the tale that didn''t involve him transforming into a treasure chest, or fighting against a bloodthirsty assassin girl.


    Then there was the matter of Pearl to consider. He trusted Elijah, but the bard was a difficult woman to figure out. Frankly, the tale of a mimic turning into a human seemed like the kind of thing rife for storytellers to crow about far and wide. She''d be singing his tale from the rooftops if she got the chance.


    "Needless to say, there''s more going on in this town than any of us thought. Good thing we''re leaving soon."


    "Ah... well... if that''s the safest option," Essine replied, giving him a small nod of his head.


    Silence lingered between the two of them. Then a realisation seemed to hit Coin like a bolt of lightning. "Wait, why are you in here anyway? This is my room."


    Essine''s fur fluffed outwards, her ears flattening against the sides of her head. She looked away, abashed. "This one... this one was worried about you. You had not come back for some time, after all. So this one... er... wished to wait until you came back. And um... this one... fell asleep in the process."


    Coin, who knew little about society and less about women, thought this was entirely normal. "Ah, I see," he replied.


    Essine relaxed, sagging her shoulders as if a colossal weight had been lifted off them. "Well..." Essine hopped off the bed and quickly smoothed the wrinkles of her skirt. "This one should rest for the evening. So... er... good night." She turned sharply and scurried out into the hall.


    And, once outside Coin''s room, a thought occurred to her: If he was a shapeshifter, then Coin could turn himself into a very handsome kobold. But, on the other hand, she also found his human visage rather fetching too.


    Now alone, Coin flopped onto his bed. It was in that moment that all the tension in his body hastily melted away. What a night. What a damn ridiculous, dangerous night.


    The reality of the situation loomed large in his head. Valle Irons had tricked them, and soon enough they''d be carrying barrels of black powder that would soon fall into the hands of dangerous criminals. If they went through with the deal, at least.


    And how far did this conspiracy reach? From the sound of things, it was a group with reach across the kingdom. Pain tingled in his shoulder, a reminder of the lead ball that struck him earlier. The image of their unfortunate prisoner, a great hole blown through his flesh and the plate armour that adorned him...


    A shiver raced through his body. Such dangerous weapons. The lead ball hadn''t gotten close to his core, fortunately, but Coin felt pain regardless. And that blow had hurt worse than any sword, spear, axe, or arrow he''d ever been it with before.


    He rolled onto his back, the frame of the bed creaking from his movements. Even with his view of the world being as narrow as it was, the mimic was smart enough to understand that those hand cannons would go on to reshape the world if they became widespread within the world.


    And when he thought about it, let that mental image fester in his mind, he was flooded with a dread he couldn''t articulate.


    Sleep did not come easy that night, and the throbbing pain in his arm followed him into his dreamless slumber.

 Chapter 46 - What Leona Saw

    "A mimic?" Askyr incredulously asked. He had arrived soon after the meeting erupted into chaos, entering from a tunnel behind a local printing office. Too late to get involved in the chase, but he had seen the results of the unwelcome interruption, and the chaos that had been left in its wake. Naturally, he was displeased.


    "I know what I saw," Leona said, knitting her brows in a frustrated glare. "Don''t give me that look! I know what a mimic looks like, I''ve killed plenty of them while treasure hunting for the Brotherhood!"


    "I''m aware. But... a talking mimic? Come on now," he said, scoffing and shaking his head. He leaned against the stage, the scent of drying blood and black powder still rife in the air. In the distance she could hear the muffled sounds of men straining, carrying crates through the winding tunnels of the hideout. "They''re animals, Leona. Next you''ll be telling me that a horse was talking to you."


    An irritated growl rose in her throat. It took a lot to frustrate Leona. Treating her like a kid, as the elder Brotherhood members often did, was a sure fire way to manage it. "There were plenty of witnesses in the crowd. I wasn''t the only one who saw a scuttling treasure chest!" she shouted.


    "Actually, you were." He regarded her with an icy expression, his inner emotions well guarded. "I spoke to many other people. All they saw was a... shape in the darkness. You were the only one who got close enough to see our unwanted guest. That fool at the door barely saw anything other than a fist smashing his face in, so he''s been no damn help."


    Leona folded her toned arms, regarding him warily. "So, what, you think I''m lying?" she asked.


    "That''s not..." He gave an irritated sigh and pushed away from the stage, pacing around the dimly lit cavern. "I''m merely... sceptical. A talking mimic isn''t possible. If mimics were that smart, they''d be hunted to extinction, instead of being nuisances that lurk in old ruins. We''d know about them, is my point."


    "Oh? And what else could it have been?"


    Askyr shrugged his slim shoulders, his back to Leona. It was ordinarily very unwise to have your back to Leona, not that those who made such an error ever had the time to contemplate their own foolishness, but he knew he was safe. Not just from his own level of skill, but because his apprentice would never raise a blade to him in anger.


    "A wizard using magic to warp their shape, most likely. It''s a rare skill, but there are those capable of it. Entirely possible someone using such an ability snuck in here," Askyr reasoned.


    "And they just so happened to look exactly like a mimic?"


    "It''s more believable than an inexplicably intelligent mimic," Askyr replied, halfway turning toward her. "You even said it cast magic at you. Have you ever heard of a mimic using magic?"


    Leona opened her mouth again, then promptly shut it. She glanced away, scowling. "It''s not impossible," she reasoned. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a corked bottle. "I found this on the floor of the cavern. Think it was a piece of the bastard that got blown off when Deek shot him."


    Askyr inspected the bottle as it was offered to him, the corners of his mouth gradually twisting into a puzzled frown. The flesh inside the glass was an indeterminate mass of grey mush, vaguely meaty in texture.


    "Whatever was in the cavern tonight... this isn''t human flesh, I can tell you that for certain."


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    "Mm. True," Askyr reluctantly admitted. He turned the flask in his hand, holding it up to the torchlight for a better look. "Might give it over to the alchemists for a better look," he said.


    The two fell silent for some time, while Askyr continued checking the glass. Eventually, Leona sighed and folded her arms. "I''m not... I wouldn''t... lie about something like this. Not when it comes to Brotherhood matters."


    Askyr''s strong hand settled on her shoulder, instantly lifting some of the tension she felt. It was a moment that took her back to her childhood, when he had first met her and rescued her from peril. Much of her annoyance and frustration melted away, her fears dulled.


    So long as Askyr was here, part of her brain assured her that everything would be alright.


    "I know Leona, I know," he said, offering her a ghost of a smile. "I don''t think of you as a liar, or anything like that. And I know you did your best to stop that intruder. With how strange the entire ordeal was? I can''t fault your imagination going wild."


    Leona frowned. "Maybe you''re right." But she strongly doubted it.


    A chill suddenly rolled through the cavern, making Leona stand to attention. Even Askyr grew stiff, promptly spinning around as the masked, cloaked visage of Lord Bleak floated in from the darkness. In the silence that surrounded him, the noise of a pin dropping would have sounded like thunder.


    To say nothing for how frightfully awkward it would be to abruptly drop a pin in Lord Bleak''s presence.


    The flask floated from Askyr''s grasp and hovered a few inches in front of Lord Bleak''s mask, rotating from one side to another. Leona had not even known he was still here, given his ability to come and go as he pleased.


    The flask vanished into the darkness of his cloak. Then, in a low, strained voice, Lord Bleak spoke. "This changes nothing in the grand scheme of things. We continue our plans as they were originally written."


    "Of... course, Lord. We still have sentries on the street but if they see a... a walking treasure chest, they will be quick to act," said Askyr.


    "It''s not a priority. If we are dealing with a creature that can change it''s shape, we''ll have no end of difficulty trying to sniff them out. For now we need to focus on clearing this hideout and relocating back to the woodland camp."


    Leona bowed. "Of course."


    He stood, or hovered rather, near the mouth of a nearby tunnel. "Valle Irons has come through for us. Or, rather, his friend has come through for us. DiVenture''s connections are not to be underestimated, getting several casks of black powder from the locals."


    "Most of the locally produced black powder from Grafia goes straight into the kingdom''s stockpile. To think, DiVenture managed to get his hands on some... the man has a lot of strings to pull," Askyr murmured. "Give it a few days and we can pick up the casks in Sentinel."


    "No doubt there will be others seeking to capitalize on the... opportunity. Black powder, not under the watchful eyes of Arcadian soldiers? Aye, people are going to want to get their hands on that. Fatty Broadfellow''s gang has a large presence out here, and those lads love their explosives," Askyr said.


    It was perhaps hard to imagine a rotund gnome by the name of ''Fatty Broadfellow'' as some feared crime boss. And indeed, many people used to cackle at his presence. But after having so many of his enemies torn apart by packs of hungry hounds, or blown to smithereens by black powder bombs, people found him to be increasingly less humorous.


    But his existence did little to trouble Lord Bleak. Or, at least, the prospect did not make him change his stance. "Have some people keep an eye on DiVenture and his cohorts when they leave Grafia. Just in case anyone gets any foolish ideas."


    "Of course, my lord. But, er, do you wish for us to... take the casks while they''re on the road?" Leona asked.


    "If you feel it necessary. But there is no rush. Sooner or later, the supplies will be in our grasp. We have nothing but time to kill until enough hand cannons are constructed."


    He left them then, floating off into the darkness from whence he came. Once he was gone, Leona exhaled the breath she''d been holding without realising it.


    She was loyal to the man, but feared him in ways nothing else could manage. Even the darkest horrors of the Bleak, the skin eaters and bone hounds and horned serpents, gave her little pause in comparison. She had, after all, seen what he was capable of. Knew the strange wisdom that ticked away inside his head. He had, after all, been the man who designed and built the hand cannon in the first place.


    Frankly, when it seemed nobody in the Brotherhood had so much as glimpsed him under the mask, Leona had no idea who or what Lord Bleak even was. A demon of some sort, she reckoned.


    Askyr turned, resting a hand on the pommel of his sword. "Leona. Take two men and keep watch over DiVenture''s wagon when he leaves the town."


    The redhead''s jaw dropped a bit. "Me? But what about dealing with the mimi-"


    He gave her a flat stare that promptly shut her up. Askyr was not a man to shout or roar when he was angry. His anger had a tendency to be as sharp and focused as a spear strike. But there was a venom in his steely eyes that flared whenever he was annoyed. Leona had come to understand that look all too well in the early days of her sword training, where there was little tolerance for youthful clumsiness.


    "No more of this mimic foolishness, Leona," he said, shaking his head. He drew away from her and steadily made for the mouth of the tunnel. "We have real problems to deal with. Things being as they are, you won''t have to put up with any more mimic nonsense any time soon."

 Chapter 47 - Snide Civil Servant

    Illyana had not expected things to be easy when she got to Sentinel, but she hadn''t expected the process of meeting Archchancellor Velasco to be such a chore either. Days blended into each other as she was given correspondences, and meetings with a myriad of middle men who all smiled politely, shrugged, and informed her in a number of different ways that Velasco was simply far too busy to meet her in person.


    This is a multiversal experience shared among anyone who has ever had to deal with government servants for any reason, ever, across the entire breadth of time and space.


    But Illyana was a determined woman. Stubbornness was a common trait among elves, after all. And she met with these middle men, continuing to push and request meetings, ignoring any attempts to placate her.


    The frustration was hardly pleasant to endure. Particularly when the civil servants would smile and say she was simply mistaken whenever she tried to spin her tale of smart goblins. It strained Illyana''s patience to the breaking point, resisting the urge to beat anyone who tried to tell her she was imagining things to a pulp.


    In the evenings, to support herself, she did security work at the local taverns and smokehouses. It did little to boost her Adventurer''s Guild rank, but it was better than nothing.


    She stalked the stark white corridors of the Obelisk, adorned in a long red coat, black trousers, and riding boots. She had gotten her armour repaired soon after arriving in Sentinel, but wearing full plate to these meetings was not the... done thing. At least humans and elves were alike in their sense of proper decorum.


    By now, a few of the workers were familiar with Illyana''s presence. Many of them gave her a wide berth, fearful to even meet her eyes. But a few, at least, tried to greet her in passing.


    "Ah, Lady Illyana," one man, a slim and dark-skinned man with faint points on the top of his ears greeted. "Here for another meeting, I suppose?"


    "Naturally," Illyana replied, giving him a curt nod, stopping briefly beside a ceremonial suit of armour.


    He winced, glancing up and down the corridor. "I admire your resolve but... this isn''t going to work. With how busy Archchancellor Velasco is? I don''t give you good odds of ever getting a meeting. Least of all with the... subject matter you''re trying to broach to him."


    She gave him a flat stare, the steel of her gaze making him cringe away from her. "Unlike some people, I''m not willing to bury my head in the sand about this."


    "Y-yes well, be careful," he replied, taking a cautious step back as Illyana strode away from him. "I don''t think the archchancellor would appreciate any rabble rousing."


    Illyana smiled, her back to the man. "Good to know," she replied. Varis was currently hard at work speaking to refugees who had arrived in Sentinel after goblin attacks. One by one, she was assembling a crowd of people who understood exactly the kind of threat lurking in the shadow of Arcadia.


    If rabble rousing was what it took, she''d raise so much rabble that even the ancestor spirits would have to listen.


    The elf wound her way up several flights of stairs, passing several guards who watched her warily. They too were familiar with her by now, but held their tongues in her presence. The elf wasn''t just some ordinarily civilian who could be pushed around without consequence. Even without her sword and armour, she radiated power and confidence.


    Her path brought her to an office on the fifth level of the tower, where many civil servants had their own offices, tending to concerns and queries as they came in from citizens, and politicians from Sentinel and beyond. Her route was only briefly interrupted by the sight of a gorilla in a finely tailored cloak getting into a heated argument with a cringing worker.


    Sentinel was an odd place.


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    The office of Garland Auldflower was rife with the pungent smell of herbal smoke, and the gnome was idly puffing on an ornate ivory pipe as Illyana entered. Another woman stood beside her, adorned in sleek white robes and a veil that concealed the bottom half of her face. A healer, Illyana instantly knew.


    "Fine morning to you, Lady Illyana," Garland murmured, flicking a braid of silver hair off her right shoulder. Dressed sharply, the elderly gnome carried herself with more confidence than other civil servants. He puffed at her pipe, watching the elf with sparkling green eyes. "It''s been a few days."


    "Yes, so it has. And you could have spared yourself another meeting if you simply gave me a direct meeting with Velasco." She took a seat across from the gnome, who scoffed and tilted her head.


    "Honestly. You come in here with your fanciful tales of smart goblins, and expect to simply be brought directly to the leader of the kingdom? I can commend you for your drive, but your arrogance is truly..." She raised the pipe from her lips and idly twirled it around. "... elvish."


    Illyana narrowed her eyes. "I should hope you''re not letting ancient racial tensions dictate your actions." Gnomes had nowhere near the long lifespan of elves, where eighty years was ancient by gnomish standards. Yet they could hold grudges that lasted centuries, and spanned several generations.


    "Perish the thought!" Garland replied, chortling. "Here in Arcadia, we''re all human after a fashion. At least, so long as we''re in a human country."


    She took another puff, but something seemed to make her lurch in her seat. She wheezed, sagged forward, and began vigorously coughing. Illyana recoiled into her own chair at the sight of darkened blood oozing from the corners of her mouth. The healer, at that moment, pressed a hand to her back. A warm white glow enveloped the two, bathing the room in its radiance, and Garland was breathing easy again by the time the healer withdrew.


    "Languorweed. You really should give that stuff up. Does dreadful things to your lungs," Illyana noted.


    Grunting, Garland set her pipe on the table. "Yes, well, we all have our vices. Yours appears to be an obsession with being a public nuisance."


    "Well, I can spare you the nuisance part if you simply... do your duty and push forward a meeting with Velasco."


    "Do you honestly think Archchancellor Velasco has nothing better to do than sit there, and listen to your flights of fancy?" Garland asked. Her healer shifted uncomfortably on her feet.


    "If he keeps pretending the problem doesn''t exist, then he''ll soon be a very busy man indeed. I was there at Glain. I saw what those creatures are capable of."


    Garland waved her off, the wood of her chair creaking under her modest weight from the movement. "An aberration, I assure you. Goblins who ended up being equipped by another criminal gang."


    "And the fact that one of the goblins spoke to me? And plainly telling me the intentions of his kin?" Illyana asked.


    "A hallucination on your part, I''d reckon. Goblins don''t speak common. They can scarcely speak their own gutter language for that matter."


    Illyana clenched her jaw tight. As if her own ears had betrayed her. "What are you people so afraid of? That you''ll catch fire if you admit the truth?"


    "We live in a tense time, Lady Illyana." Garland propped her elbows on the desk and netted her wrinkled finger together. "Crime is rampant in the rural regions, we have mounting tension with Eldergard... To say nothing of the Brotherhoood remnants trying to undermine Velasco. So, being frank, we don''t need people riling the citizens up with tall tales of smart goblins."


    Illyana sneered and leaned forward. "Oh if you think people are riled up now, see what happens if you ignore the problem."


    "You can''t ignore a problem that doesn''t exist," she replied, smiling smugly. "All you''re doing is wasting my time and yours. So I''d advise you to develop some common sense and-"


    Illyana grabbed her by the collar in an instant, lifting her from her seat. Garland gasped, stunted legs kicking futilely at thin air. "You forget yourself, my good woman," the elf growled. She darted a glance to the healer, who was fretting and fidgeting, too scared to move from where she stood. "You''re a good healer, I take it?" she asked.


    "I-... Y-yes, a trained disciple of the Goddess."


    "Ah. Good. Then you''ll be able to help Lady Auldflower if I snap her bones one by one."


    The gnome paled. "Y-you wouldn''t dare!" she gasped, continuing to writhe and wriggle in Illyana''s unyielding grasp.


    Illyana wouldn''t, normally, threaten a person who couldn''t really defend themselves. But she had hit her limit when it came to snide civil servants at this point. It was one thing for them to shrug helplessly and say there was nothing they could do. It was another thing entirely to have the audacity to mock her when a crisis was lurking in the shadows. She''d spent enough time being looked down on by her family, but she''d be damned if she let a stranger get away with it.


    Maybe she''d feel bad about it later, but that thought was dim and distant in the back of her mind.


    "If we''re talking common sense, my friend, then I''d advise you to think twice before mocking someone who had a fistfight with an ogre and won earlier this month." She dropped Garland unceremoniously into her chair, nearly bowling over over in the process. Hurting her wouldn''t accomplish anything. But putting the fear of death into her did give Illyana some satisfaction.


    "And if you''re unwilling to do your job and help me... fine. I''m going to get Velasco to take notice of the situation one way or another..." She spun on her heel and strode to the door. "Even if that means causing some ruffled feathers in doing so. Just you wait."


    She heard the gnome hissing and cursing after her by the time she passed through the doorframe. "You wretched Bleakborn knife-eared bitch! So help me, if I ever see you in my office again, I''ll have you sent straight to the chopping block! Don''t think I won''t!"


    And then she tumbled into a lengthy fit of coughing.

 Chapter 48 - A Familiar Voice

    It was a cold and foggy morning in Grafia when the group reconvened at Morley''s shop. A few burly men were gathered by the door, each one carrying a weighty cask of black powder in their arms. The owner grunted, meeting Elijah''s eyes.


    "Weren''t easy to get this all gathered from my storehouse, especially on short notice. A personal stockpile I''ve had built up over the years through a few deals of my own. And I''m sure there''ll be people in power who''ll be unhappy to know I''ve had this stored away. But with what you were giving me in exchange? I''d say it was worth it."


    Elijah smiled. "Aye, a damn good trade. You''ve made out like a bandit."


    Coin didn''t know the exact terms of their negotiation, but he ultimately had larger thoughts looming on his mind. The mimic glanced to the casks of black powder, each one meant to serve as a killing implement for a truly dangerous group. He had yet to tell Elijah about it, still mentally debating how to do so.


    But, even so, they could still sell those casks and make a tidy profit. Ideally to people without Brotherhood ties.


    He felt Essine''s eyes on him, rife with concern. She was the only other person who understood the dire weight of their situation. But, ideally, it would be best to talk things through with Elijah when they were away from any prying ears.


    Coin approached Morley, clearing his throat. "Before we head back to Sentinel, I have to ask... does your store sell any potions for cleaning?"


    He lifted a bushy brow. "Mm? We have a few bottled soaps on offer, aye. Some for people, some for hard surfaces. There''s a gnome commune ain''t too far from here, they sell the excess my way."


    Elijah gave him a curious sideways glance. "You scheming something?" he asked.


    Coin nodded. "I figure the people in Lowtown would appreciate a few bottles." And they had a few empty glass vials in the wagon, giving them the means to dilute the soap and sell a larger quantity of it. And for as nice as the thought of making a profit was, he did have an ulterior motive for sending the older alchemist away.


    He stuffed a hand into his pocket and pretended to rummage about in search of ducats. In doing so, he moved a portion of his money through the flesh of his pouch, directing it down his left arm. The coins seeped through his skin, rolled down his forearm, and gathered in his palm.


    After a brief spate of haggling, the burly man took the offered coins and sauntered into the backroom of his shop. His workers, meanwhile, pressed on toward Grafia''s stables to load up the wagon. It still hurt, giving away his own money, but his current worries dulled the pain.


    "Any chance I could borrow some of that soap?" Pearl asked, letting out a nervous laugh. "It was nice, getting a chance to properly wash back at Gilly''s home, but it would be nice to have easy access to a bottle going forward."


    "If you''re willing to pay, sure," Coin replied. He was nice, but not running a charity. Nor had his worries entirely dulled his greed.


    The bard pouted. "So cruel. But, very well. I''m going to go settle accounts at the alehouse, I''ll meet you all back at the stable." She turned and strode away, humming a tune about a farmer with a massive eggplant.


    Now alone, relatively speaking, Coin turned and gave Elijah a firm look. "We can''t give that powder to Valle Irons."


    His mentor blinked at him a few times. "Well, why ever not?" He didn''t seem offended by the proclamation, and was at least willing to hear Coin out. But the confusion was writ large on his rumpled brow.


    "Because Valle Irons is in league with criminals. People who call themselves the Brotherhood," Coin replied in a low murmur.


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    Elijah paled. "Th-the Brotherhood? Brotherhood of the Dagger? You''re... certain? That''s a very serious accusation to make, my lad. Sure, Valle has made connections with unsavoury types before, but the Brotherhood are near the equals of the Bleak when it comes to pure evil," he replied, just as hushed.


    "That''s the name I heard, at least," he said.


    The older man fell silent for a moment. "Heard from where?"


    A brief bout of hesitation gripped Coin, like a man peering over the high dive and debating the survivability of hitting the water below. "Last night, I saw a man at the alehouse who gave me a worrying impression. Particularly with the way he looked at us. So I followed him in secret."


    "Ah. So that''s why you ran off last night," Elijah murmured.


    "Anyway I snuck after him, followed him into this... underground tunnel. And down there, I saw this group had gathered. They claimed to be the Brotherhood, and they were working with a pack of goblins."


    If anyone else had woven this tale for him, Elijah would have taken them for a liar. Or a bug-eyed lunatic who had snorted an abundance of slam. But he knew Coin. Trusted the strangely naive boy who had saved his neck from harm more than once. As strange as the tale was, he doubted Coin would lie about it.


    "And they claimed that Valle was working with them?" he eventually asked.


    The hinges to the backroom doors creaked noisily, instantly hushing the group. "Must be cautious," Essine whispered. "Dangerous people. Even kobolds fear the Dagger."


    Morley returned, carrying a few glass bottles on his arms. Most of them contained a pearly white liquid, but others had been tinted with shades of orange, red, or purple.


    Gnomes, historically, were a clean and tidy people. Which was an impressive feat for people who once lived exclusively in the heart of nature, which laughed and scoffed at such concepts. But living among humans, and even elves, had forced them to evolve when it came to hygiene. On the plus side their soaps and scented candles made for wonderful holiday gifts from people with zero imagination for gift-giving.


    "Right. Most of these got a basic floral scent to ''em. It''s not bad, just sort of... bland, I suppose. The others got fruit scents. Dunno how the gnomes do it, frankly, but it works."


    Coin took the bottles, nodded his thanks, and stiffly left the building with Elijah and Essine in tow. The streets of Grafia beyond were quiet at this early hour, some of the sellers only starting to open up their carts and stores. Silhouettes moved and shifted in the fog ahead.


    The mimic tried to tell himself that they were just ordinary citizens, or the fog playing tricks on his eyes. But he couldn''t dull the paranoia creeping into his mind. Nobody had chased him last night, nobody but Essine knew his secret. Yet there was no doubt in his mind that the Brotherhood agents were still rife in this town, lurking in every corner and shadow.


    Looking for any trace of a mimic. Or anyone who didn''t look like they belonged.


    He led the way into a narrow alley, devoid of any other people, or any windows directly above them, and resumed speaking in a low voice.


    "I saw them kill a man down there," he admitted, finally. "They had this weapon, not like anything I''ve seen before. It... it punched a hole clean through a man''s armour and torso, and the noise of it was almost deafening. They called it a hand cannon."


    It did not take long for Elijah to piece together a mental image from what had been described. "A weapon like a cannon, but it fits in your hand?" he murmured. Coin nodded. "And if it functions like a normal cannon then it needs black powder to..." he trailed off, nervous sweat breaking out across his wrinkled features from the sudden realisation. "Goddess above."


    "That''s why he wanted the powder. That''s why he was so desperate. They mentioned him by name, I know he''s involved" Coin said.


    Elijah''s expression quickly shifted from shock to anger, his face reddening until veins became visible on his forehead. "That little bastard!" he hissed. "I put my trust in him! I didn''t think even he''d be such a damn fool that he''d get involved with something like this!"


    "What... do we do now?" Essine asked.


    "Simply giving the powder back isn''t an option, not without putting Morley at risk. Doubt he''d let me rescind what I gave him anyway. We... we continue on toward Sentinel, act as if everything is normal. For the time being at least. If there are Brotherhood agents here, they may already know about us. And we can''t afford to rouse suspicion." He exhaled slowly before meeting Coin''s eyes. "You were right to tell me all this, my lad. But you put yourself in a great danger to find it out. You need to be more careful in the future."


    He briefly thought of that girl with the two blades, who had attacked him with the kind of ferocity and speed that put most other humans he''d ever fought before to shame. "Yeah. I really do."


    "Anyway, when we get back to Sentinel, we''ll be having words with Valle. And deciding a better use for our cargo."


    Coin wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. Elijah had believed him. And, for now at least, he didn''t need to divulge his secrets. Ideally they could get back to Sentinel in one piece and after that... After that...


    Well, he wasn''t sure. Presumably the archchancellor and his people would take care of the rest.


    As they reached the outside of Grafia''s stable, they were greeted by the sound of chattering and laughter. Coin quickly recognised Pearl''s voice as he was about to round a corner.


    "Well, it really is a crass old song. Supposedly the man was the bane of whorehouses everywhere, despite being royalty."


    A second voice tittered in response. "Oh, I can imagine."


    Coin nearly halted mid-step, his blood turning to ice in his veins. A familiar voice that made a pit form in his stomach. Rounding the corner, he could clearly see Pearl''s new friend. There, seated on a fence only a few paces from Dancer and the wagon, was the orange-haired girl from last night.

 Chapter 49 - Break His Nose

    Coin slowly and stiffly made his way toward the wagon, passing other stalls filled with steeds and overgrown beetles. He watched, trying his best to appear casual, as Leona hopped off the fence and landed neatly on the well-groomed grass.


    "Making new friends?" Elijah asked, chuckling.


    "Oh, well, we just decided to chat while I was waiting for you," Pearl replied, smiling toward the young woman.


    "Call me Astella," Leona replied, grinning brightly. "I assume you lot are travellers, like me?"


    Coin remained silent, loading the bottles of soap into the rear of the wagon. Essine, seeming to sense his discomfort, joined him at his side. "What''s wrong?" the kobold asked in a hushed whisper.


    Coin watched the woman from the corner of his eye as she shook Elijah''s hand, the sight sending a shiver down his spine. "She was there," he murmured.


    The kobold''s whiskers twitched. "Where?"


    "There. Last night."


    The realisation hit Essine like an open-handed slap, her fur bristling from the shock. She didn''t dare look at Leona, but the threat of her mere presence made the kobold''s pulse quicken.


    Coin sighed, setting the soap beside the black powder casks. "Be calm. Don''t do anything to rouse suspicion." He set a strong hand on her shoulder. "I''ll keep you safe."


    That, in an instant, seemed to calm her. She smiled. "Thank you, Coin." Knowing his true nature didn''t seem to change the way she thought about him. A realisation that made Coin feel... odd. Not in a bad way. It caused a warmth to blossom in his chest, and he smiled without realising it.


    "My friends and I were waiting for our horses to be brought out," Leona said, motioning to a pair of men standing idle by the stable gate. While one man carried a bow and sword, and the other sported a weighty axe, they did not seem like cold-blooded killers at a glance. "And that was when I heard your friend''s lovely singing voice."


    Pearl tittered, practically beaming as her ego was stroked. "It''s always refreshing when someone recognises brilliance in an instant."


    "Ah, well, our Pearl is quite famed as a bard," Elijah replied. Though he didn''t sound too convinced as he spoke.


    Coin made his way over as Essine moved into position at the rear of the wagon. "We should probably hit the road soon," Coin said. His voice had lost the monstrous edge it had in his non-human form, but he was still mindful when he spoke. "Looks like it''s gonna rain, and the roads might get rougher."


    "Oh?" Leona smiled innocently. Looking at that carefree smile, those unassuming eyes, Coin reasoned she could put many mimics to shame when it came to looking harmless. Had it not been for last night, he wouldn''t have suspected her at all. "And where are you heading to?"


    "Just some business down south," Elijah replied. He too bore a pleasant smile, but there was steel in his eyes. He hadn''t forgotten the danger posed by strangers out here.


    "Well, my friends and I are heading that way too. Always work to be done down in Sentinel. We''re mercenaries, as it happens." Her cloak parted a bit, giving a glimpse at the swords on her hips, and the daggers on her belt. "We could give you an escort, for a fee. The roads are dangerous these days, after all."


    Elijah, his smile never failing, merely chuckled. "Appreciate the offer, lass, but that won''t be necessary. Anything threatens us, we have it well in hand." His eyes darted to Coin for a fraction of a second.


    "Ah, well, no harm then. Just be mindful, yeah?" Leona tutted and shook her head. "Far too many weirdos in the world these days."


    She sauntered back toward her two companions, at which point Elijah turned toward Coin. "She''s one of them, isn''t she?" he muttered.


    "How did you-"


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    "The eyes," Elijah interrupted. "When it comes to killers, my lad, it''s always in the eyes. Come on, let''s get moving."


    "Er," Pearl glanced from Elijah to Leona''s retreating back. "What do you mean? What are you two talking about?"


    Coin hesitated. "We''ll... tell you later," he replied. He supposed Pearl had a right to know if she insisted on travelling with them.


    "Oh, very well. Men and their secrets," she muttered, going toward her own steed.


    It was as they were making preparations to leave, the sound of footsteps drew progressively closer to them. A tall stooping elf in a finely-tailored black coat, followed by a small crowd of humans and gnomes. But now Coin had a decent sense for when someone was a potential threat, and those men were setting off a few alarm bells inside his head.


    Not to the same extent as Leona, but still.


    "The esteemed Elijah DiVenture," the elf greeted.


    Elijah halted as he neared the side of the driver''s seat. "You seem to have me at a disadvantage, chum. You know my name, but I''ve never seen you before."


    "Names are for friends," he replied in a low, calm voice. "I''m here on behalf of my employer. Seeing as how you''ve stumbled into some... valuable resources, we were seeing if we could lift ''em off your hands."


    "I''m afraid I don''t know what you mean," Elijah replied, maintaining a carefree smile.


    "Oh, come now," the elf chuckled, smiling and revealing a shiny silver tooth in his mouth. "No need to be coy. We had a feeling Morley had a bit of black powder he was unwilling to part with, and too well guarded for anyone to take by force."


    Pearl gripped the reins of her steed, regarding the strangers warily. "Good grief, are you people going to get to the point or not? Your intentions are obvious to anyone with eyes and ears, so just state them plainly and dispense with the act."


    "That one''s got a mouth on her," one of the gnomes remarked.


    "Mm. Too true," the elf said, stroking the pointed beard on his chin. "Fine. Then I''ll be blunt. Hand over the black powder here and we''ll even pay you for your trouble."


    "And if not?" Coin asked. He clenched one of his fists, muscles trembling with enough force to crush steel.


    The elf let out a jovial chuckle, as if someone had just told him a real rib tickling joke. "Well, young man, that isn''t something that should be said aloud. Might traumatize a child, after all."


    "My dear friend," Elijah said, lifting his hands into view. "Alas, I don''t make business deals with men of your... social status. Particularly when I''m sure you''d use it for something rather untoward or dangerous."


    "Oh, believe me, you don''t know the meaning of dangerous yet," the elf replied, his smile steadily fading.


    Coin glimpsed Leona from the corner of his eye. The enigmatic assassin was watching them cautiously, brushing the mane of her horse in a bid to appear normal. But her happy expression had shifted into a stony, ice cold expression. Her gaze could have punched a hole through someone as well as any hand cannon.


    "You''re not getting our cargo, you heard the man. And if you try to push the matter, you won''t live long enough to regret it," Coin warned.


    "Making threats, eh? Word to the wise, pretty boy, don''t go picking fights you can''t finish." The elf sighed and turned to Coin, flanked by his men. "Don''t say we didn''t try to be reasonable about this."


    A flash of steel caught Coin''s eye, a dagger racing toward his jaw. Coin''s hand swept up, quicker on the draw, gripping the elf''s wrist with vicelike intensity. And though he jerked and writhed, he could not break free of Coin''s grasp.


    "L-let go!" he hissed, his eyes widening in panic. A single flex and he could have snapped the elf''s wrist like a piece of dry wood.


    "Were you thinking of killing me? A pretty risky idea, we''re barely outside the town. Killing people in public isn¡¯t something civil folks do," Coin mused.


    His head thrust forward, his brow slamming into the elf''s face with a mighty impact. Blood gushed against Coin''s forehead, the elf''s noise buckling under the pressure of the impact. He hit the ground with a thud, howling and clutching his gushing nose.


    The others in his entourage reached for their weapons, while Leona and her allies subtly reached for theirs where they stood.


    "G-goodness!" Pearl cried, taking a harder grip on her reins.


    "My dose! My damn dose!" the elf shrieked. He tried to rise to his feet, only for he and his allies to halt as Coin held a palm out, electricity dancing between his fingers.


    "You attacked first. I can do whatever I want in my defence and be justified," Coin reasoned. "Make a move. By all means."


    The elf glared at him, blood pouring from his nostrils. He grit his teeth and backed away, motioning for his cohorts to follow him. "You''re dead, you hear me?! Dead!"


    It was hard to take a death threat seriously when the person making it had a clogged nose.


    Coin watched them leave, tucking his hands into his coat pockets. They''d meet again, of that he was certain. Another threat to be wary of while they travelled. The inner workings of his ears shifted, biomass warping and sculpting his hearing until it was sharper than a hunting hound.


    Just in case.


    Elijah seemed similarly wary, sparing a glance to the swords in the rear of the wagon. "It''s clear what they want. But if they were to ambush us on the road, they wouldn''t risk doing anything that could set the casks off. Suppose we can be thankful of that, at least."


    "Maybe it would have been better to just give them the powder? Instead of antagonizing violent criminals?" Pearl suggested, nervous sweat dappling her brow.


    "We don''t make deals with criminals," Elijah said, hoisting himself into the driver''s seat. "We best get a move on, quickly."


    Coin nodded as he took his seat. He glanced back to Essine, who shifted uncomfortably where she sat, watching the casks.


    "Danger always lurks in our shadow," the kobold murmured.


    "Seems like. But I won''t let it hurt you, or any of us," Coin replied.


    They set off, Dancer''s legs scuttling across the grass toward the stable exit. And, as they went, Coin''s eyes briefly met Leona''s. She smiled at him, and there was a look in her eyes he couldn''t quite read.

 Chapter 50 - Hunted Like Dogs

    The fog had started to lift by the time the group left Grafia behind, the distant horizon dull and grey. After what had just happened, they were naturally slow and cautious in how they went. Coin grew tense whenever another traveller past them, his body like a coiled spring, but ultimately they were just strangers going about their business.


    "The Brotherhood? Surely not!" Pearl balked. They had tried to explain everything to her, but the bard was still dumbfounded by what she was hearing. "They''re a shadow of what they were. Velasco has spent years pushing them further to the margins and rooting them out."


    "Not all too well by the sound of things," Elijah remarked. "The Brotherhood of the Dagger were massive in their prime, an agency spanning the length and breadth of Arcadia. I doubt even the king knew how big they were, before he got skewered on his throne."


    As it turned out, destroying a kingdom-spanning clandestine network of spies, soldiers, and assassins was rather hard to root out. Something nobody could have anticipated.


    "This one is confused," Essine murmured. "The Brotherhood are a dangerous group. But why did Velasco wish to destroy them? Why were they unwilling to change their master?"


    "Because they had special privileges under the crown. Privileges that Velasco was unwilling to maintain. Some people jumped ship, became part of his Spiders. But others... others have been scurrying in the dark all this time."


    Pearl gave them an incredulous look. "And making deals with goblins? Come now, even I wouldn''t make up a tall tale like that."


    The old merchant shrugged. "Goblins are vicious and manic, as we all know. But they''re not as stupid as everyone would wish to believe. They can be bribed or paid when the right offer is made. If the Brotherhood are offering them the right gear, they''d gladly collaborate with them," he explained.


    Essine shuddered, a bristle racing down the length of her fur. "Were there really that many down there?" she asked, glancing to Coin.


    "More than I''d want to count," he admitted. An image flashed in his mind, a sea of glinting eyes in the relative darkness of the cavern. He had seen his fair share of goblins back in the temple, but the numbers the Brotherhood must have had... the thought made him shudder.


    "Then what do you plan on doing?" Pearl asked, glancing to the back of the wagon.


    Elijah seemed to weigh the question in his mind, humming as he rubbed the reins in his hands. "In truth? I don''t quite know. We already paid for the powder, and it''s certainly valuable. Too valuable to just throw away. Can''t give it to Valle, even if that means handing the ring back to him."


    Coin didn''t much mind. After all, he''d gotten a spare when he rescued Pearl a few nights back.


    "We could sell it to the archchancellor," Coin suggested. "If they like black powder so much, I mean."


    "Mm. Maybe. And we''ll probably have to break the news to the archchancellor''s people while we''re at it, and that''s a damn pain. But better to be inconvenienced than to be caught up in another war." He sighed and shook his head.


    "We might get paid extra for helping them," Coin reasoned, smiling. He briefly thought of Fiodor, his smile faltering a bit. He''d need to get back at that elf. And if he got another good look at the man, he''d have what he needed for his plan.


    Pearl grimaced. "Quite a naive thought, Coin. You may be a handsome devil, but that head of yours is an enigma. Like... a happy dog, I suppose."


    "Er... thank you?" Coin replied. He was fairly certain that was meant to be an insult, but she said it like a compliment.


    They day''s travel went by without incident. Coin scanned the horizon all the while, but found no trace of anyone who would want to do them harm. Yet this, strangely, did little to put his mind at ease.


    If anything, the calm just made him uncomfortable, as if there was always something just far enough behind them to keep out of sight. As underwhelming as the elf back in Grafia had been, he didn''t doubt that his group had an abundance of armed men to call upon.


    And, of course, there was the matter of Leona. He regularly looked back on the road, but saw no trace of her either.


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    As the sun began to set, they made their camp in a clearing many paces from the road. Trees and brush ringed them, but they still didn''t light a fire. Instead they lit their way with hooded oil lanterns, casting a dim light around their camp while they ate a dinner of cheese, salted meat, and bread.


    Hardly glamorous, and Essine was unhappy about not being able to cook, but they were unwilling to light a campfire when there was a risk of them being tracked.


    Elijah set up a few noisemakers around the outer perimeter of the camp for extra protection, but there was still an awkward silence among the group as they ate. Pearl''s lute sat beside the crate she was using as a chair, untouched.


    "Do you suppose they will pursue us?" Essine asked in a low voice, nibbling the edge of her salted meat.


    "Possibly. I doubt Coin scared them off that much. Criminals can be determined and stupid in equal measure when something valuable is involved," Elijah mused.


    Pearl crossed one leg over the other. "Considering where we are, and what the cargo is? I reckon those men were with Fatty Broadfellow," she said.


    "Fatty... Broadfellow?" Coin murmured.


    "A gnomish thug. A blight in Sentinel, has been for years now, and he''s got a long reach for a man with such short arms," Elijah said, snorting. He seemed to ruminate on Pearl''s suggestion for several moments. "I suppose it makes sense. He does love his explosives. And a chance to snatch a few casks? Aye, he''d go for that."


    "Ideally they won''t be stupid enough to try anything. But, if they are, then I''ll deal with them."


    The statement made Elijah stir uncomfortably where he sat. "You''re good, my lad, but I''d rather avoid getting into a fight with any gangland groups. It''s... risky."


    "Suicidal, more like," Pearl said, shaking her head. "And anyway-"


    A bowstring thwanged from somewhere in the brush. Coin moved on a reflex, quicker than a charging steed, as he grabbed Pearl and Elijah and tossed them behind some cover. A crossbow bolt thudded into Elijah''s seat a split second later, kicking up a cloud of dust and splinters.


    A second shot echoed a heartbeat later, this one aimed toward Essine. She had already started to move, her senses and reflexes sharper than those of the humans, but Coin was in front of her in a blink. A gust of wind exploded from his palm, striking the bolt and knocking it away.


    A group of men emerged from the treeline, brandishing weapons. He recognised several of the men from earlier this morning, including the elf who now had a bandage over his broken nose.


    At the head of them was a tall and slim human, dressed in a hooded green jerkin. His sharp, owlish face was partially wreathed in shadow, but Coin could clearly see a gnarled scar on the right side of his face. He held the chains of a great slobbering beast on one hand, the creature standing on his knuckles as he snorted at the air.


    "A steppe ape," Elijah said, drawing a blade from the scabbard on his hip. "Damnation. Where''d they catch one of those? One of the best hunting animals in the world..."


    "Thought you''d gotten away, did ya?!" the elf mocked, cackling excitedly. "Oh no, you''re not getting away from us! Coulda done this the easy way, but you had to choose the hard way!"


    The hooded man gave him a sharp look. "Damyr, please shut up."


    "But Caldwell-"


    The hooded man shifted his posture slightly, instantly making the elf freeze in place. When the elf fell silent, Caldwell turned toward Coin. "Ain''t nothing personal in all this. But Boss Broadfellow wants more black powder. Damyr tells me you''re a wizard. Maybe you''re thinking you can kill us all..."


    He examined his allies, a collection of burly and well armed fellows who who watched them with a murderous intent.


    "And maybe you can. But I assure you, we have more men afield of here, set to move if we take too long in coming back."


    Coin regarded Caldwell warily, clenching his fists. His meteorite ring glinted under his glove, magic pulsing and swirling through his body. A well aimed bolt of lightning could wipe several of them away in an instant. But he had to be mindful. If he got turned around, or wasn''t careful, a stray spark could set the casks alight.


    And the others... he was quick and strong, but they were very fragile. Could he fully protect all of them? And do so without exposing his true nature in the process? That thought worried him far more than fighting off an entire group of armed men.


    "Enough of this!" Damyr hissed. "I say we just-"


    Coin''s wrist snapped upward, a blinding white flash of lightning exploding from his palm. It closed the gap before a single man present could so much as blink, instantly exploding Damyr and the two men beside him into hissing chunks of ashen meat. He hurled himself to the side to avoid the hail of crossbow bolts that followed, only being grazed by two of them.


    The steppe ape, loosed from his chains, shrieked and tackled Coin to the ground with inhuman quickness. Coin''s vision became filled with flailing fists and gnashing teeth, the beast striking at him again and again. A normal man could be torn limb from limb by such a beast.


    Coin could endure the blows, but they hurt something fierce and made his vision shudder.


    "Coin!" Elijah called.


    The mimic''s fist shot up, fast as a crossbow bolt, slamming the ape in the ribs. Several of them cracked, yet the shrieking beast did not relent. The second blow, much harder, pulverized several ribs into powder and shunted the pained beast back. Barbs flew from Coin''s fist, invisible in the darkness, shredding and devouring several strips of meat.


    Pushing through the pain, his head feeling as if it had been beaten worse than a drum, Coin forced himself upright in time to see Elijah warding off two of the bandits with his sword. For his age, he moved with surprising quickness and grace. No doubt, in his prime, he had taken the time to get lessons. But that would not do much to aid him when those men pressed the assault.


    Turning and shouting, Coin unleashed a great boom of wind from his palms. Several of Caldwell''s men were lifted and flung away by the force of the gale, two of them smashing and splattering against the trunks of the largest nearby trees.


    He turned, set to tackle the two men. He had make do with his bare hands, he couldn''t risk using magic near the wagons. Yet they were so far, could he reach them in time? Coin grit his teeth and pressed forward just as the two thugs rushed Elijah and Pearl.


    A flicker of silver shone in the darkness. The flicker became a shape, and the shape became a silhouette, and the silhouette became Leona in under a second. Leona, fresh from the ether, dashed forth and decapitated both men in a fleeting stroke, sending twirling spurts of blood racing into the air.


    She landed neatly on the grass, ignoring Dancer''s shrieks and chitters of surprise. Grinning, she flicked the blood from her blades in a single movement.


    "After last night," Leona said, glancing across the destroyed camp toward Caldwell. Her two underlings emerged from the brush behind her, brandishing their own weapons. "This is just the kind of violence I need to work some stress out."

 Chapter 51 - Filled With Poison

    Coin stood in place, dumbstruck, as Leona darted from point to point in a series of silver flashes. Her magic was something she had a clear mastery over, her reflexes and speed making Broadfellow''s thugs seem slow and sluggish in comparison. Crossbow bolts whistled and snapped through the air, yet never got even remotely close to hitting her.


    Her cohorts, dark and sleek, shifted into cover among the trees and returned fire, downing two gnomes with well-aimed shots to the brow. The thugs had numbers, certainly, but the Brotherhood men were on another level when it came to training.


    In the chaos, Caldwell had slid back toward the treeline and vanished from sight. Lantern light shone a modest distance from the camp, growing closer and closer. Reinforcements, Coin knew.


    The mimic grunted and scrambled to his allies, uneven and groggy on his feet. His head ached and throbbed, and it was an active effort to mend his wounds. The knuckles of the steppe ape could shatter stone into gravel, and Coin had only directed so much biomass to reinforce his head before he was attacked. Between the bashing to his noggin, and the rush of his magic, it was a powerful combo that had him winded.


    "Lad," Elijah breathlessly said, catching him by the shoulders. "Easy, easy. Good grief, that damn ape nearly tore your head off."


    Coin swallowed harshly. "I''m okay," he huffed. "Just... weak in the knees." He tried to catch his breath, ignored the blood drying on his brow. He could still fight. The sounds of screaming and ringing steel echoed through the darkness, a stark reminder that he HAD to fight.


    "Th-that woman," Pearl murmured. "Sh-she must have followed us all this way. Goddess above, she''s tearing through them like a wild animal."


    "Aye. If she''s a Brotherhood knife, that kind of skill is to be expected among their upper echelon. But for someone as young as her... goodness, she must have been training her whole life."


    A bush behind the wagon rustled, and a split second later it parted to reveal a massive man with an axe clutched in his hands. He grinned, lunged at the group, his blade shining in the darkness.


    Coin grit his teeth, adrenaline surging in his veins to give him a sudden rush of clarity. That bastard must have snuck around in the chaos, leaving his allies to be cut down. Anything to get his hands on the casks in the wagon.


    But, before Coin could raise a hand and take aim, a dark shape lunged at him from the rear of the wagon. Essine''s knife struck true, plunging directly through the leather on the side of his neck. The man barely managed to scream, the gurgling rush of blood drowning out all sound before he struck the earth with a thud.


    The kobold rolled onto her side, huffing for breath as she wrenched the blade free. She moved to her feet, nervous twitches assailing her posture.


    "Essine?" Pearl murmured. She had raised her lute on a reflex to defend herself, and now seemed to find it quite difficult to lower it again.


    "This one..." she swallowed and huffed, blood speckling her fur. "This one does not like to kill. But if the need is there to aid you and protect you... then this one shall."


    She had killed before, Coin reasoned. Likely only in self defence, but she had barely hesitated when the opportunity was presented to her. He huffed, his weight sagging toward the edge of the wagon. Leona and her cohorts were still hard at work, but from the sound of things more and more of Broadfellow''s men were joining the mix.


    "We need to go!" Elijah said, glancing to the driver''s seat. "Put some distance between us and them. Everyone in, I''m going... going to head eastward."


    "Eastward? From here?!" Pearl hissed. "But that''ll take us directly toward-!"


    "The alternative is to head west, directly into the damn knives!" Elijah growled. "And if the risks should give them pause about chasing us, all the better. Now come on!"


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    Coin had never seen the old man like this, but he could hardly blame him for getting fired up. Things being as they were, someone had to be willing to take charge in all this.


    They scrambled to the seats, and Coin caught a glimpse of Leona in motion. A few men had managed to surround her, and were doing everything in their power to keep her on the backfoot with their spears. Yet even three men attacking in quick succession struggled to break through her guard.


    Dancer sported a few marks on his chitinous shell, where a few stray crossbow bolts had grazed him. Yet, despite his hissing distress, the mushien was no worse for wear. A hard flick to the reins set the beast in motion, Pearl and Essine bundling into the back. A harsh whistle from Pearl spurred her own mount into following them.


    "They''re tryin'' to get away! Cut ''em down!" a voice howled from afar.


    Arrows and bolts sailed after them, cleaving through the air. But in the murk and gloom, their shots went wide of the mark. Coin, grimacing, turned and glanced toward the figures trying to rush past Leona and her allies.


    The Brotherhood members, skilled as they were, could not halt some of the people who banked around them. And soon, illuminated by the lanterns on their belts, Coin could see several men on horseback racing after them.


    They burst through the treeline and set off on a wild ride along the hilly countryside, only barely lit by a lantern Essine ignited and handed to Coin. The sight of the glow gave the marksmen some pause. It wouldn''t do if they accidentally shattered the lantern, set the wagon alight, and blew the casks into oblivion.


    Dancer was fast when he was fully in motion, scuttling on a myriad of hairy insect legs that could outpace the average steed. And, were it not for the wagon weighing him down, he might well have outrun their pursuers. But they were gradually, steadily, closing the gap!


    He stood on his seat and tried to take aim, arcs of electricity dancing between his cupped palms. A stance that could only be called ''anime-esque'' by most multiversal scholars.


    "Try to hold us steady on the road," Coin huffed. "Can''t aim in the damn dark like this!"


    "L-lad, are you sure you have more magic in you?!"


    Did he? Coin wasn''t entirely sure. Certainly, the two magic-users he''d eaten, combined, could tap into a large reserve of power at their peak. But his own mind and body had only scratched the surface of it, his practice sessions only doing so much to acclimate to the strain. It was only his superhuman vitality that kept him from knocking himself out from summoning up some of the more destructive spells..


    "I''m gonna do what I can," Coin murmured. He winced and jerked his head to the side, avoiding a whizzing bolt that very nearly grazed his ear.


    A great arc of lightning cleaved through the air, heat racing through his outstretched hands. It closed the gap toward some of the riders, uprooting a swathe of solid ground in passing. The shock wave and ensuing spray of debris knocked two steeds over, flinging their riders from their saddles.


    The terrain grew rockier, wilder, the wheels of the wagon creaking and rattling from the shifting terrain. Coin strained, fighting for balance. Bursts of pressurized air exploded from his palms, zipping forth faster than the incoming bolts. Each shot sent a jolt racing up his arms, their weight growing heavier and heavier by the second.


    A few of their pursuers were unhorsed, broken bodies spent tumbling into the darkness. But by now the remainder were aware that someone was actively sniping them with magic, and were gradually spreading out and making their movements erratic to throw off Coin''s aim. And, gradually, their aim was growing more accurate as their eyes adapted to the darkness.


    "Th-they''re getting closer!" Pearl exclaimed. "W-what should we do? Th-throw the casks out?"


    "Break those casks, and they''ll kill us for making their lives harder! Damnation, after every man of theirs they''ve lost so far... at this point killing us is probably personal for them!" Elijah shouted. He gripped the reins until his knuckles paled, clenching his teeth from the stress.


    He''d been chased by rough customers before, but this was excessive!


    Coin was huffing for breath, his legs twinged with a dull ache. It was an uphill battle to keep his balance at this point, each breath coming in harder than the last. And, in the chaos, he did not see or hear the incoming bolt until it had thudded loudly into his right shoulder.


    Blood gushed from the point of impact, a shrill gasp escaping Coin. Without even thinking, he wrenched the bolt free and tried his best to ignore the burning sensation that tingled around his shoulder.


    "Coin!" Elijah cried.


    "I''m... I''m alright." He hunkered down to avoid another shot. The burn in his flesh was only growing more intense. And spreading outward. He glanced to the sharpened metal in his hand. There, beneath the dripping blood, he could see a strange green substance crusted along the tip of the bolt. His vision swam and swayed, and he felt as if his body weighed a thousand tons from the neck down.


    Another rider was pulling up on them, his horse at full gallop. Through the darkness, and his pulsing vision, Coin saw the glint of his crossbow as he took aim. A burst of electricity shot from his fingertips just as the man loosed his bolt. Coin''s magic struck true, launching him from the saddle in an explosive flash.


    The crossbow shot, in turn, caught Coin in the gut. He grit his teeth, pulled the tip loose, dropped it and sagged into the driver''s seat. Blackness hissed in his vision. He''d been stuck with arrows and bolts in the past, certainly, but nothing had ever had an effect like this.


    "Lad!" Through the miasma enveloping his brain, Coin felt Elijah lifting and cradling his weight. He felt... sleepy, all of a sudden. Despite the chaos, despite the pain, despite the danger, he just wanted to sleep.


    "Stay with me!" Elijah called out, but he sounded as if he was a hundred miles away. "Don''t close your eyes! Zeke! Zeke!"


    Blackness engulfed his vision utterly.

 Chapter 52 - A Forsaken Ruin

    The group ran until the break of dawn, but a blanket of dull greyness had settled across the horizon. Coin, fortunately, had killed the last of his pursuers before the poison in his system took him down.


    They had bundled him in the rear of the wagon, the mimic''s face flushed red and slick with sweat. His breathing was shallow and laboured, and he regularly grimaced with pain in the depths of his slumber. His soiled coat and shirt had been removed, and Essine had personally seen to the cleaning of his wounds.


    It prevented the others from glimpsing his shifting flesh before she could bandage it.


    Elijah had a few potions stored away for curing poison, and they had forced Coin''s mouth open enough to feed him a portion. But time would tell if it could handle the job.


    "Emerald venom," Pearl murmured, inspecting the crossbow bolt in her hands. "It comes up in a few folk tales and fables. Brewed from a nasty concoction of poisonous flowers. Coin even being alive is a damn miracle."


    "He''ll make it. He has to," Elijah murmured. He''d barely taken his eyes off the hilly landscape ahead.


    Essine watched him in silence, curling her clawed hands on her knees. She wasn''t so certain. Who could say what effect that poison would have on a mimic? Or if the cure could even work for him?


    Yet she tried her best to have faith. Iya''Shae, the All-Mother, taught her kobold children that all hardship could be endured. Coin would be fine, she told herself.


    Sighing, she glanced through the flaps of the canvas toward the driver''s seat. The landscape ahead looked... barren. The grass had grown shabby and faint, a few stalks of green barely poking through ashen grey soil. The trees, what few there were, seemed emaciated and blackened, devoid of any foliage. No birds dared to fly across the dark grey sky.


    Wherever they were heading, she was starting to see why Pearl was so anxious about it. She just hoped there would be somewhere to wash up. The dried blood on her fur was foul.


    "What lies ahead of us?" Essine eventually asked.


    Pearl, frowning, glanced away from the kobold. "I suppose some of the details of Arcadian history are unknown to you, so I''ll enlighten you about what is to come. Over 200 years ago, Arcadia was invaded by cultists from Vlithia, madmen who were pledged to the Bleak and sought to merge it with our Plane."


    A bristle ran down the length of Essine''s fur. "The demons from the Land of Shades?"


    "If that''s the term your people use, then yes," Pearl replied. She gave Coin a soft look as he huffed and fretted in his anguished slumber. "It was a chaotic war, where a few portals to the Bleak were forced open. And though they were all obviously closed by royal sorcerers, some were open long enough to leave lasting damage to the landscape."


    "And this place... we are heading to a battlefield?" Essine asked.


    Pearl''s frown deepened. "Worse than a mere battlefield. Leagues from Grafia, there once sat a town by the name of Charnyll. Cultists infiltrated it and, in an act of divine cruelty, triggered a Bleak portal in the heart of the town. The citizens were wiped out to a man, and the ruins spent some time after being a haven for Bleakborn monsters during the war."


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    Essine shivered. "And now some curse of their presence lingers on the land. Enough to ward off pursuers. And put us at risk in the process," she reasoned.


    "Yes. We can but hope that Elijah''s hunch is correct, and that we won''t be pursued. Especially with Coin indisposed like this." She folded her arms and spent some moments quietly examining Essine. "I... owe you my thanks. For killing that man and saving us."


    "That¡¯s..." Essine darted her eyes away. "This one does not enjoy killing. But it is something of a necessity at times, when threats pursue the koboldkin."


    "Yes, well, those quick reflexes of yours worked a treat." The bard sighed and flicked her raven tresses back. "Owing my life to a kobold. Goodness, my life has taken some fascinating turns of late."


    Some time later, the outer walls of Charnyll came steadily into view. Essine had moved to the head of the wagon for a better look. Her ears flattened against the sides of her head, a strange dread racing through the kobold''s whole body.


    The town, grey and lifeless, looked as if it was frozen in time. A wall ringed the entire perimeter, but several swathes of the colossal grey bricks had either been shattered in explosions, or scythed by great claws. Skeletons and stray bones protruded from the ashen soil, eyeless skulls watching them carefully as their wagon rolled slowly up to what had once been the main gate.


    ''Miserable'' was the only term Essine could think of that remotely described the aesthetics, and that impression was only cemented further as their wagon rumbled into the town. It was a husk, only a handful of buildings still standing.


    More than once, when they passed a wall, Essine saw human silhouettes flash-fried to the stone with their arms raised in a surrender that had been ignored by the invaders.


    She had expected the scent of death and decay to be rife within the ruins. Instead Essine''s sharp nose smelled... nothing. A sensory void. She couldn''t even catch a whiff to imply anyone had ever lived here at all.


    Eventually, their wagon came to a halt outside a large stone building with three floors. Judging by the size and shape, Essine assumed it to be an inn of some kind. Dancer was hissing and frothing only barely relaxing when Elijah offered him a meal of water and ground meat.


    "Right," Elijah huffed, standing slowly upright. The merchant, normally jovial, looked positively gaunt and slick with stressful sweat. "Come on, help me get Coin out of the wagon. Should have some decent shelter inside here."


    "You speak as if you know from experience," the kobold said.


    "I''ve picked through Charnyll in the past, in my misspent youth. Know some of the layout, seems it''s barely been touched all these years later. Come on lass, hurry."


    The inn was as grim inside as it was outside. The floor and surfaces were thick with dust, but the lack of any footprints was a reassuring sign. There weren''t even any cobwebs inside the scorched, crumbling interior. Not even bugs wanted anything to do with Bleak-cursed land.


    They put Coin in one of the rooms, which still had something resembling a bed inside. His fever had not lessened, and he had yet to wake. But at least he seemed to be grimacing less.


    An old well sat at the rear of the inn, miraculously in tact, and the water within was fortunately drinkable. Though it was only after much internal debating and extensive sniffing that Essine dared to sip any. And, after drawing a bucket, she set about swabbing the blood from her fur.


    Killing brought her no joy, even if it was done to a man who probably deserved it. When she closed her eyes her vision was flooded by the sight of the thug''s face, frozen in a mask of horror and pain. That would be another burden for her soul to carry in the next life.


    Elijah approached, sighed, and sat down on a dusty stone bench. In the silence of Charnyll, every noise carried a dreadful echo.


    "That lad is a fighter. I can only hope he''ll pull through, but... Emerald venom is no joke. Racks the body in all manner of awful ways," he murmured.


    "I have faith in Coin," Essine said in a soft voice. "He is strong." That was the polite, conservative way of describing him without divulging his deepest secret.


    "Aye, and... the only one of us who can really fight. If those people keep pursuing us, and he''s not around to defend us," he trailed off. The merchant didn''t need to elaborate further. The plain truth was that, without Coin, they were all as good as dead. It was only paranoia and folk tales that kept them safe for the time being.


    Silence fell between them for several moments. They were both exhausted, and stressed out of their minds, and being inside the corpse of a town did little to dull their discomfort. The thick, choking silence enveloped them like a blanket, and Essine glanced to each vacant window, expecting to see a pair of eyes looking back at her from the darkness.


    Eventually, however, Essine asked something that had lingered on her mind for some time now. "Who is Zeke?"


    Elijah didn''t answer at first. Didn''t move, or stir, beyond looking up at the cloudy sky. His expression was similarly stony, but there was something in his eyes that made Essine regret asking: A glimpse of deep, unrelenting sorrow.


    "Suppose the shock of it all stirred some unpleasant memories. Seeing Coin like that, bleeding out in my arms. Aye, I''ve lived through it before." He sat upright, looking Essine in the eye. "Zeke was... my son."

 Chapter 53 - Shadow of Yesterday

    "I was born into the merchant life, you see. Followed in the path of my father, and his old man before him. But when I was younger, I was filled with ambition. I wanted more. Wasn''t enough for me to have a big fancy wagon, or a healthy bank account." Elijah chuckled and shook his head. "Guess I wanted to be the biggest, richest merchant in all the land."


    Essine moved around to the edge of the well and took a seat on the sculpted stones. Her ears twitched, listening intently.


    "So, when I took the reins of my father''s business, I set about expanding. Buying more wagons, hiring people to work for me. And, gradually, it all built up to what would come to be known as the Venture Company. It was as my business was getting big enough that I met the woman who''d be my wife: Rebekah."


    Smiling at the memories, he crossed his right foot over his left knee. "Well, eventually, we had our son: Zeke. Thinking back, those years we had together were the happiest of my whole life... But, Rebekah sadly passed when Zeke was just a lad, which left me as the one person to raise Zeke. He became my apprentice, set to follow in my footsteps in the same way I followed those of my father."


    The kobold nodded along to his explanation. She noticed the happiness in Elijah''s voice as he spoke, the twitches of a smile at the corners of his mouth. And the tears that were slowly starting to wet his eyes.


    "Then the revolution happened. Zeke, a young man at the time, and I had been in Sentinel when chaos and violence swept through the streets. The guild halls, we heard, were serving as safe havens for civilians. So, we tried to make a break for them. Easier said than done. Seemed there were soldiers and revolutionaries on every corner, and the gutters were running red with blood. I''d walked the streets of Sentinel countless times, knew them like the back of my hand. But between the screaming, the roaring, the flames, and the smoke... felt as if the city was some alien landscape to me."


    He sagged as he spoke, a glassy haze falling over his eyes as if he was looking thousands of miles into the distance. "You... do not need to speak more, if you do not wish to," Essine told him.


    The older man offered her a wan smile. "It''s fine. Haven''t told this tale in so long, and since I brought you to this cursed place... Guess I owe you some truth in exchange, lass," he explained. "So, we ventured toward the Mercantile Guild''s hall. But the fighting grew thicker, more chaotic, until we tried to cross one thoroughfare and..." He swallowed harshly. "And my boy was cut down by crossbow fire, only a few paces from the guild hall."


    Essine''s ears flattened. She had a feeling the story would go that way, but it still stung to hear Elijah''s woes spoken aloud. "This one is sorry for your loss," she replied.


    "Thank you lass, truly. I... I did what I could to drag him into the guild hall, into shelter, but... it was too late. He''d bled to death in my arms before any help could be given." A long, shaky sigh escaped him. "Don''t know if the people who killed him were loyalists or rebels. Frankly, their cause doesn''t matter. Just their callous actions..."


    He looked wistfully up toward the windows of the inn, focusing on Coin''s room. "Losing him broke my heart. Damn near broke my mind too. I was in no shape to lead the Venture Company, and my other apprentice snatched it out from under me in my absence."


    Essine was silent for some time, digesting all of this. "You see Coin as being... like your son?" she asked.


    "Well I... maybe not quite that close. I care for him a good deal but he''s not Zeke. I know that. It was just... the heat of the moment, you know? Of course, it doesn''t help that he actually looks a bit like Zeke." He reclined on the bench and folded his arms. "It was like I was there all over again. Trapped in that moment. Like I am every time I try and sleep at night."


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    Essine understood the feeling all too well. Few understood loss in the way a kobold could, where their lives were seen as disposable in the eyes of humans. More than once her own nightmares were filled with dead siblings and family members. Iya''Shae would one day bring salve to her spirit.


    "He''s an interesting lad, isn''t he?" Elijah abruptly asked.


    "Coin?" Essine glanced to the window above them. "Yes. He truly is." She smiled without even realising it.


    "Odd, certainly, but... He has a good heart. One of a kind, frankly," he said with modest chuckle. Grunting, he rose from the bench with great effort and slowly paced toward the inn''s door. "Try and get some rest, lass. It''s been a long day. But... a word of advice."


    The kobold turned toward him, tilting her head to the side. "Hm? What is it?" she asked.


    "Just this: It''s unhealthy to bottle up your feelings. If there''s something you wanna say to someone, it''s best to say it before it''s too late," he said as he strode past her.


    Essine''s fur fluffed outward, her cheeks growing red hot. "W-what is that supposed to mean?!"


    Night fell, as night tends to do. The town was even more imposing in the dark than it was in the daylight, the ruined buildings forming into misshapen looming silhouettes. The group moved through the inn with lantern light, but it felt as if the choking blackness would swallow the light at any given moment.


    At least they were given the chance to cook a proper meal. A nice, spiced pottage that warded away some of the chill of the night. The creaking ruin of the inn, unsurprisingly, did not have great insulation against the elements.


    Coin had not awoken, but his fever was growing weaker. Slowly, gradually, the emerald venom was being purged from his body. Elijah reasoned that, come tomorrow or the day after, he could wake up.


    And for as good as that news was, he was troubled by the speculation.


    Even if a human survived exposure to emerald venom, they''d be out cold for about a week.


    Essine stumbled upon Pearl in one of the rooms. The bard was seated in the frame of a window, lazily tuning her lute. "Ah. Your cooking was wonderful, as ever."


    "This one thanks you," Essine replied, venturing inside. She hesitated. "You could perhaps flee, if you wish. Your steed followed us all the way here, and this one doubts they will seek to pursue you on your own. Assuming they tracked us out here."


    The bard shrugged. "Safety in numbers, I suppose. Seems our handsome friend will survive, and my odds of making it to Sentinel in one piece would be much higher with him around," she explained.


    "There is logic to what you say. Coin, blessedly, will be fine from the look of things," Essine said.


    The two were silent for some time. Pearl, eventually, looked up and managed to meet Essine''s eyes. "I was perhaps not the... kindest to you when we first met, Essine, and I apologise for that. I have rarely been close to kobolds, and let unsavoury tales colour my perception of you."


    "It''s fine, truly," Essine replied, trying to wave her off. She was so used to humans thinking ill of her that it didn''t really surprise her when it happened. And while it did still hurt emotionally, the pain had grown duller over the years.


    "No, it''s not. I was a boar to the woman who saved my life regardless. It would reflect rather poorly on me if I did not change my way of thinking." She managed a small smile. The kobold could tell the bard was being sincere, but it was still a shock to hear her speak so candidly.


    "Well..." Essine trailed off, uncertainly.


    The clouds outside began to part at that moment, revealing thin slivers of moonlight. The glow spread out, providing a faint glow to the remnants in the town. And, in doing so, Essine''s eyes behind something that made her freeze in place.


    The moonlight caught tendrils of shadow winding through the cold night air, like masses of smoke moving deliberately toward the heart of the town. Essine moved to the window for a better look and felt her jaw gradually dropping. A shape loomed in the darkness, a spire-like wound in space. It was wreathed in a shimmering aurora of green and white light, luminous as it seemed to actively soak up the moonglow.


    Essine swallowed harshly. "What... what is that?"


    Pearl glanced to the glow in the distance and looked marginally more nonplussed by what she saw. "An echo," she remarked. "Portals to the Bleak tend to leave an echo in the world, usually only visible under certain conditions. The longer a portal was open, the more power was put into it, the longer the echo will remain. And the portal of Charnyll was... quite exceptional. Even many decades later, it still lingers."


    The kobold stared at it for several moments, her discomfort rising by the second. This whole town, from one end to the other, was a festering wound.


    But, as fixated as she was on the shadow of the portal, the rest of Essine''s senses were focused elsewhere. One of her ears suddenly twitched.


    Somewhere, in the darkness of the silent corpse town, a figure was moving around.

 Chapter 54 - Wanderer in Charnyll

    It was suicidal madness, Essine knew, to go creeping about in the dark in this Bleak-forsaken town. But she couldn''t simply ignore what her keen senses were telling her. Someone, or something, was skulking about here. Wild animals avoided Charnyll like the plague, so it had to be something humanoid.


    Maybe it was that woman, Leona? She had tracked them once already, and the kobold doubted the fear of this place would keep her away. Certainly, if it was Fatty Broadfellow''s men, they would have come in larger numbers.


    The kobold flitted silently through the shadows, making regular use of cover to further obscure her motions. Her clawed fingers rested on the hilt of her knife all the while, set to draw it in an instant. Kobolds could see well in the dark, fortunately, but she still felt uncertain as she crept under the awnings of long-abandoned structures.


    Those soft footsteps continued to shuffle about somewhere ahead of her, echoing off the ancient walls. Just one person, Essine noticed. That should have made her feel somewhat at ease. Instead it made her stomach churn anxiously. Someone who braved such an imposing landscape alone, especially with the echo of the portal looming high over even the tallest buildings, was either a lunatic or a very dangerous person.


    And with the day she''d been having, where she''d barely snatched a few hours of sleep in fleeting naps, she really wasn''t in a mood for loonies of any sort.


    She came to a halt at the corner of a tight alley, watching silently at the lantern light that shone against the stone wall ahead of her. A humanoid silhouette became visible against the flickering lantern glow, creeping forward. Something like an elongated limb protruded from the central mass, tipped by something long and sharp.


    Essine swallowed hard. A monster? Or some creature from the Bleak, who had lurked in the ruins of the town this whole time? The thought sent a shudder racing through her lithe body.


    Against a person, she could win if she had the element of surprise on her side. But if it was some kind of monster...


    The silhouette moved forward, bit by bit, the sight of it driving Essine to grip her dagger tighter. She knew how to creep and skulk. It was a necessary skill for any kobold who lived past their childhood years, where it was oft better to sneak around humans than to be in their line of sight. As far as she could tell, she was beyond silent.


    Yet the figure ahead came to an abrupt halt. "I know you''re there. I''d rather not fight, but I will defend myself if I have to." A humanoid voice, Essine noted, with an accent that seemed to slowly chew upon his syllables.


    Essine swallowed harshly. "Who... are you?" she warily called back.


    "An explorer, that''s all. Wasn''t expecting anyone else to come here," he replied. "I wish you no harm."


    "This one has no reason to believe you," Essine replied.


    "Yes and being sneaky and secretive gives me little reason to believe you either. Best to lay eyes on each other, rather than continue scuttling about and run the risk of a violent misunderstanding."


    Essine paused. Whoever she was dealing with had strong senses to be able too detect her. Or, perhaps, had some magic at his fingertips. Either way, he was dangerous.


    "You may be trying to lure this one out into the open to do harm to her!"


    The silhouette made an exaggerated shrugging motion. "Yes well if you''re going to be lurking out of sight it makes me paranoid, which runs the risk of me doing something foolish!"


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    Essine considered this. "This one... supposes there is some logic in what you say," she replied. "V-very well. On three, we emerge into view at the same time with our arms raised," she replied.


    "Very well." They did so.


    Essine found herself looking at an elf with deeply tanned skin and a short crop of auburn hair. He was adorned in flowing lavender robes with black trim on the sleeves and hem, leather riding boots covering his feet. A symbol like an eye was stitched onto his chest. In his hands he held a finely sculpted oak staff with a sharp shard of promethium embedded in the gnarled material.


    He regarded her warily with his sharp golden eyes. "A kobold? This is unexpected."


    "Meeting anyone in this cursed place should be unexpected."


    "Mm. True enough, I take it you''re the source of those lights I''ve seen moving about in that inn?" the elf asked.


    Essine blushed beneath her fur, feeling foolish. She supposed they were just shy of setting off fireworks to announce their presence, such was the silence of Charnyll.


    "This one and her friends," Essine replied. An unspoken warning followed that remark: ''That''s right bucko, this one has friends with her so don''t think of doing anything strange.''


    "I see. Well I won''t pry too much. If you''re not here for mere academic curiosity as I am, then some true desperation caused you to shelter in this cursed place." He inclined his head toward her. "I am Igrei of Clan Vizgra, here on behalf of the Sanctum."


    The kobold had no bloody idea what those terms meant, but she could hazard a guess from what she knew of the elves of Thallborea. Some sort of wizard consortium, investigating magic in all its shapes and forms. And, generally speaking, it was a poor idea for anyone to get involved in wizard business.


    "Are you here for the..." she motioned toward the distant ghostly silhouette of the portal''s echo. If there was anything else here to draw a wizard''s attention, it would be prudent to know about it. Solely to better avoid it.


    "Partially. Researching the Bleak is something of an interest of mine, though my cohorts think me a madman for that," the elf admitted.


    Essine gave him a flat look. Too bloody right they did.


    "We are here for shelter. That is all," Essine said. He did not need to know more than that. He already knew the location of her allies, and if he meant to harm her he could have done so by now. Still, Essine wasn''t too keen on trusting him.


    Igrei nodded. "I won''t ask for details, then. But, perchance, have you seen any strange items in the ruins of this town?"


    "Strange how? This place is just dust and silence. The remnants of people long dead."


    A faint smile crossed his face. "Aye, well, I am not really looking for any remnants of the human residents. Rather I seek anything that the demons of the Bleak may have left behind." He paced around, and Essine gripped her knife tighter.


    A futile gesture. She wasn''t much good in a straight fight, least of all against anyone armed with magic. Still, when she pondered that fact, an idea came into her head. If she could persuade him to come along, and if he meant no harm, it would be some extra protection until Coin was in fighting shape again.


    Igrei continued speaking. "I have reason to believe that the demons of yore left some weapon or other behind in the past. Naturally, with people being so terrified to attempt scavenging anywhere near here, there''s a strong possibility that said weapon would still be here. If it exists, at least."


    She gave him a curious look. "To take such a weapon for yourself?"


    The elf scoffed. "Of course not. Using Bleak-forged weapons carries... risks." He let that statement hang in the air for several moments, the dark corners of Essine''s mind imagining what kind of ''risks'' he was talking about. "I study the Bleak, its inhabitants and their weapons, so that we may better understand how to counter them in the future. And when I am finished studying a Bleak weapon, it is destroyed."


    Essine spent several moments regarding him, reading his intentions from his expression. Any kobold who lived past a certain age managed to develop a ''sixth sense'' of sorts when it came to reading the intentions of the ''civil'' races. To know when one was being honest, to catch the glint of malicious intent in their eyes.


    And Igrei was either sincere, or he was a better liar than any man she''d encountered in her life.


    "We have not explored this city in great depth. Nor do we wish to. This place... it makes this one''s very soul squirm in discomfort."


    "The reaction of a sane woman," said Igrei. He leaned against the wall of the alley, gloved fingers lazily gripping the heft of his staff. "And if you should happen to see anything that looks like a weapon, you-" His stomach rumbled, and in the silence of Charnyll it was like the snarling of a horrid beast.


    The two fell silent, Igrei deflating like a balloon. It was hard to look like an enigmatic, wise wizard when your tummy was rumbling.


    Indeed, even the grim atmosphere of Charnyll came undone after that little incident.


    Essine breathed a tiny sigh of relief. She hesitated, awkwardly scratching her cheek as she stared over at the elf. "We... have leftover pottage, if you are hungry." For kobolds, it was generally seen as a grave sin to not feed the hungry if you had the means to do so.


    The elf stood upright and rolled his shoulders a few times to try and recover some of his prior dignity. "Yes, er, that would be lovely."


    It was an awkward, silent trip back toward the inn. But at least they had an extra pair of hands available, in case anyone tried to follow their trail. And, if nothing else, Igrei did not disdain walking around with a kobold.

 Chapter 55 - Call me Colony

    Cold icy water surrounded Coin from all sides, rife with a blackness that his eyes couldn''t pierce through. His body was moving purely on reflex, kicking at the wetness that surrounded him. While he felt his limbs dragging through the water, he felt no need to breathe.


    Is this¡­ a dream? He asked himself.


    You weren''t supposed to be able to feel things in dreams, he knew, but it was the only possibility that made sense to him in that moment.


    The last thing his mind could recall, with any degree of clarity, had been a crossbow bolt puncturing his flesh. And he could not recall of any logical reason for this sudden change in location. Bubbles began to encircle around him, tides rising to life and seeming to slowly lift him through the jet black water. Bit by bit he was dragged toward the surface, a shimmering light slowly piercing through the waves.


    You. At last, we speak again.


    The voice was vast and booming, like the noise of thunder on a distant horizon. Coin''s eyes widened. It didn''t fill his ears. Rather, it was as if it had spoken directly into his brain. It was a deep and powerful voice, each syllable carrying a resounding echo to it.


    It has been¡­ difficult to reach into your mind.


    Coin gasped as his head breached the surface of the salty, brine-filled water. His eyes stung considerably, and he found himself coughing up thick mouthfuls. The taste was vivid, as if he''d really swallowed a great mouthful of the ocean. The sky overhead was a deep shade of red, utterly devoid of any clouds. And the water around him was eerily calm. He strained his ears and heard nothing. No birds, no hiss of the lapping waves.


    Nothing but the sound of his own breathing.


    You are unique. A strange specimen. When I first sensed you, I thought it was a trick.


    Slowly, Coin felt the rippling waves lifting and twisting him around. He was facing westward, directly toward the crimson sunset. A star that blazed with the hue of blood. Coin''s eyes slowly widened as something took shape on the horizon line.


    A black speck that rapidly grew in size, expanding out further and further like the slowly unfurling wings of a great bird. The shimmering haze of the sun distorted the shape, but Coin could tell that not only was it getting bigger¡­ he was being dragged toward it, like the pull of gravity.


    But you are real. My senses were not playing tricks on me. A mimic with a rational mind.


    Coin squinted against the glare. But soon the shape had grown so large that its colossal peaks had managed to block out the sunlight.


    It was an island, Coin quickly realised.


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    The landmass had a colossal central peak, a mountain near as big as any Coin had seen on the mainland. It stood right in the middle of the land mass, two other lengths of land spreading out from the sides of the mountain at an equal distance. A veritable forest grew on either side of the mountain, while the shores teemed with a myriad of whelks, mussels, octopi, and urchins.


    "What¡­" Coin swallowed harshly and tried to ignore the burning sensation in his throat. "What are you? Who''s talking to me? Where¡­ where am I? And how do you know what I am?!"


    It was a dream, Coin told himself. It simply had to be. Well, it would be easier to believe that were it not for the icy chill assaulting his bones.


    You will know what I am in time. We have much to speak of. One such as you¡­ we will need to meet.


    His eyes were focused entirely on the mountain, and the massive shadow that it cast. And whenever he tried to look away, or examine any other part of the island, an unseen force dragged his eyes back toward it.


    "That doesn''t¡­" Coin grit his teeth and continued kicking at the chilly ocean water. "That doesn''t answer my question!"


    The mountain was looking at him, Coin realised. As utterly insane and absurd as that sounded, he couldn''t shake the sensation. That craggy, ivory rock, was watching him just as intently as Coin was watching it.


    Wearing the appearance of a human. Intriguing. I would like to read your memories, and your innermost thoughts. But, at this distance, communicating in this way is the best I can currently do.


    Coin blinked in confusion. "Distance?" he muttered.


    Was there really a talking island somewhere in the world? He furrowed his brow. That seemed unlikely. Impossible, more likely. Perhaps he was talking to some distant, wise wizard. Someone using magic to speak directly into his dreams seemed much more likely.


    But already I can feel this link growing weak and tenuous. Your consciousness slips through my grasp like grains of sand. I am¡­ unused to communication. It has been some time since I felt a need to.


    Coin grit his teeth. "No more of these stupid cryptic comments! Tell me who you are!" he snapped. He''d been brought to this strange place for a reason. It wasn''t just some insane hallucination.


    A rumble shook the island, kicking up great waves and surges of foam. Coin gasped, nearly being swept under by the crashing waves. In reality he couldn''t swim at all. But whatever this dreamscape was, it


    kept his body afloat with an unnatural buoyancy.


    The rumbling grew more intense, and the island seemed to almost lurch in place. The shore broadened, the treeline shifted, and great tremors raced along the craggy surface of the mountain.


    Suddenly a furrow began to form in the middle of the mountain, cracks racing outward in a spiral pattern. Strands of rock began to break apart, opening outward like the petals of a flower. Beneath the unfurling strata lurked an eyeball, nearly as large as a palace.


    The ivory orb swivelled in place, until the great golden serpentine pupil in the middle was glaring directly at Coin.


    A chill raced through the mimic''s body, far colder than the sea water that surrounded him.


    Call me Colony.


    ?


    "Ah¡­ Ah¡­" Coin was paralysed where he floated, unable to so much as blink. He felt the sheer weight of that eye on him, leaving him feeling as insignificant as a leaf in a hurricane.


    And the more Colony stared at him, the more he felt the sheer pressure of that foreign mind. It was vast, mighty, a monolith nearly as large as the drifting landmass before him.


    And in that moment, as that foreign mind pressed against his own, he understood the terrifying truth. This wasn''t the work of some powerful wizard, as he had initially believed. No human mind could feel like this. Even without a prior frame of reference, Coin understood that instinctively.


    Colony, whatever it was, certainly wasn''t a human.


    As impossible as it sounded, Colony was indeed an island that could talk and think. And now it was focused solely on him.


    Come.


    ?


    Colony''s voice tore through the air with the force of a raging explosion, snapping Coin from his stupor.


    "This isn''t possible¡­"


    He felt his body lurch in the water, some unseen force grabbing at his consciousness to drag him swiftly back to reality. But as he was pulled under the water again, engulfedin the impenetrable blackness, he heard Colony''s voice a final time:


    Find me.

 Chapter 56 - Speak the Truth

    Coin awoke feeling as if he had been crushed into a fine pulp by a boulder, after which said pulp was set ablaze and left to sizzle. A pained wheeze of breath escaped him as he slowly tried to force himself upright. Darkness lurked around the corners of his eyes, his mouth bone dry. His dream, or nightmare, or premonition... whatever it was, it was fading into a distant memory that he could only barely grasp.


    Save for one word that engraved itself upon his brain: Colony.


    "Easy lad, easy, don''t force yourself," Elijah said, hurrying to Coin''s side. A strong hand settled on his shoulders, and Coin felt himself sinking back into the pillows that had been set up beneath him.


    "What happened?" he mumbled. His jaw ached, his lips and tongue flatly refusing to cooperate with each other when it came to forming words.


    "One of those bolts you took had some nasty poison on it. You''re damn lucky to be alive. But... It was touch and go for a while there." The old man looked gaunt, and it seemed it had been some time since he got a proper night''s rest. "Come on, drink some of this."


    A waterskin was pressed to his lips, and Coin was too weak to protest. Cool water filled his mouth, dispelling some of the unpleasant taste he had been stuck with. He wheezed as the skin was pulled away.


    Poison was something mimics rarely experienced. Usually the people they were fighting were too busy trying to wrestle out of crushing jaws to bother with coating their weapons with the stuff. And many people erroneously assumed that mimics were inorganic, and so there was no point trying to poison a creature with a hide of wood or stone.


    Elijah reached over, wiping some sweat from his brow. "Damnation lad," he muttered as he pulled back. "You had me worried something fierce. If you''d died after saving all our arses, I don''t know how I''d cope with that."


    "Couldn''t let ''em hurt you guys," Coin murmured. He closed his eyes for several moments, trying to ease some of the pain in his head. "Is everyone... everyone okay?"


    "Aye. All well and good. You kept us all safe," Elijah assured him. "You''ve been out for two days, but nobody has come after us in the meantime. From the look of things, we should be safe to make for Sentinel again."


    Coin nodded stiffly. Some good news, at least. Not that it dulled any of the pain that still pulsed through his muscles. "We can hit the road tonight," Coin said.


    "You need to rest more."


    "N-no I''m fine. The longer we stay in one place-"


    "Lad," Elijah''s grip on his shoulder was firm but gentle. "You''re barely recovered at all. We''ll talk about moving when you can stand on your own two feet again."


    Coin knew he was in no position to argue, frustrating as the thought was. He sighed and turned his head to one side. "Fine." If Elijah thought they were safe enough for now, then he was probably right.


    He turned his head toward the window, illuminated by murky afternoon sunlight. From where he lay, he could just barely make out the edges and peaks of nearby buildings. They''d reached a town?


    "Where... are we?" Coin eventually asked.


    "Ah, well, just... an abandoned town known as Charnyll. It''s not exactly a pleasant place, gives me the creeps if I''m being totally honest with you, But beggar''s can''t be choosers, and it''s kept us safe," Elijah replied, slowly scanning their surroundings.


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    Now that his eyes had better adjusted to the light, Coin got a better look at the room. He spied the thick coating of dust on the distant surfaces, the chips and cracks in the floorboards, and the scorch marks on the edge of the window. This whole place, from end to end, was a damn wreck.


    Still, as Elijah had said, it wasn''t as if they were rich in options when it came to shelter. And this certainly beat being chased by a gang of maniacs on horsebacks.


    The two men were quiet for some time. And in the perpetual, choking silence of Charnyll, said quiet was almost deafening.


    Then, eventually, Elijah spoke up. "Lad... what are you?"


    Coin snapped awake, much of his prior sluggishness melting away. "W-what do you mean?" he asked.


    "I mean... well look, I always thought there was something a little bit off about you. Just sort of a feeling I got from the moment we met. Things like your strength, your magic, some of the odd things you say..." He sighed and leaned against the nearest wall. "And I overlooked it all. Because, as strange as you are, I could tell you have a good heart."


    "R-right," Coin replied. On the plus side, the pain in his body was much harder to focus on. The down side was that he was being racked from head to heel in a cold sweat.


    "But when I went to change your dressings earlier, there was basically no trace of your wounds. I''ve seen crossbow injuries in the past, they don''t... vanish like that," he said. He furrowed his brow and glanced away. "And then I saw your flesh... writhing."


    Coin swallowed hard. He gripped the blanket tight in his hands, until his knuckles paled. He could lie, he supposed, or at least try to lie. But what would he even say? What could he say?


    Elijah reached over, settling a hand back on his shoulder. "Whatever you have to say, it won''t change things between us. But I just want to know the truth," he said in a soft tone.


    He believed the older man. Trusted him in a way he didn''t with anyone else. But to tell the truth... it still took a lot of effort.


    He took a deep breath through his nose to try and calm himself. "I''m a mimic. A mimic that got transformed into something more than just a man eating monster."


    Before he knew it, he was divulging the entire story of his life to Elijah. Those years spent scuttling in the darkness of the ruins, fighting off goblins and adventurers. The sudden chance encounter that evolved him into what he was now. And how fear had held his tongue all this time, well aware how most people would react to his true nature.


    Elijah remained mostly silent throughout, his expression stony, only asking a few fleeting questions throughout Coin''s tale. Then, once he was finished, he simply nodded. "This changes nothing."


    "It... doesn''t?" Coin had expected he''d be cast out for his dishonesty. Or, worse, that the old man would want to kill him. Now he was just bewildered.


    "I''ll admit, your tale is a lot to take in. But some things about you make a lot more sense to me now," he admitted, letting out a breathy laugh. "But, you know how I am. I don''t care what a person is. Merely how they act. And you''ve often acted well with me."


    Coin smiled despite himself. An immense sense of relief slowly washed over him, until he was sinking back against the pillows. Even the pain in his muscles was much weaker now. "I was... afraid to tell anyone. I only told Essie because she saw me changing shape. And now you."


    "Mm. I can''t fault you for being cautious about it. Many men would think poorly of you if they knew the truth. And, for the time being, it should remain a closely guarded secret," Elijah explained. He paced about the room, each step kicking up a small trail of dust. "Still, it''s a remarkable story. I''ve travelled far and wide and never once heard of a smart mimic. First time for everything I suppose."


    "Well that or the world is full of smart mimics and they''re just better at hiding themselves than I." He meant it as a joke, though the more he thought about it the more interesting the prospect sounded.


    Few things could be stranger than the talking gorilla wizard.


    "So what do we do now? You''re really... fine with me being what I am?" the mimic asked.


    "Like I said, it changes nothing. You''re still you, lad. And I''m determined to keep you as my apprentice," Elijah replied. The two shared a smile as Elijah made for the doorway. "Now, get a bit more rest. I''ll have Essine bring you something later."


    Elijah''s footsteps creaked on the floorboards, growing increasingly distant. Alone with his thoughts, Coin closed his eyes and breathed a small sigh of relief.


    They were still far from safe, he knew. There were bound to be more people on their trail, hunting for the casks of black powder in their possession. Not just Fatty Broadfellow''s underlings either. Leona would likely crop up again, and those swords of hers would shift in their direction if she knew they had no intention of paying Valle Irons.


    And then there was the strange atmosphere of Charnyll to worry about. Now that he was awake, for the most part, and aware of his surroundings... this abandoned town made him feel beyond uneasy, like a cow standing around in the middle of a slaughterhouse. Even the air smelled wrong to his sharp nose.


    The ruins he''d been born in were downright comfy in comparison.


    They''d be back in Sentinel soon enough, he told himself. And then he could finally relax.

 Chapter 57 - Hunt Down Evil

    Come the next morning, Coin had the strength to make his way downstairs. He still ached in places, but he was doing far better than any human would if they''d had that much emerald venom pumping through their systems. He was greeted by the sound of Pearl strumming her lute, and the scent of Essine''s fried food.


    "Ah, Coin!" the kobold said, scurrying to greet him. She smiled excitedly, gently pressing her palms to his chest. "Are you feeling better?"


    "Much. My thanks, for everything you''ve done for me," he said, managing a wan smile. "And... sorry for worrying you."


    "Oh, so this is your injured friend?"


    The unfamiliar voice sent a bristle down Coin''s back. His eyes snapped to attention, and he found himself staring to a figure seated by the back of the inn with a book resting in his lap. A staff with a meteorite metal spike rested against the wall beside him.


    "He is a... friend of sorts, Coin," Essine assured him.


    The mimic nodded slowly. "I see." If he was trusted enough to be allowed here, then he supposed he''d trust him too. "It''s nice to meet you."


    "Igrei. I''ll admit that this is not the... ideal way to meet new people, but needs must," the wizard said, closing his tome and rising to his feet. He closed the distance and held a hand out to shake, which Coin obliged.


    As unexpected as it was to meet a new person, Coin didn''t get the same sense of unease he got from Fatty Broadfellow''s men, or Leona''s ilk. If Coin''s instincts were to be trusted, then this elf didn''t hold any ill intentions toward them.


    "So, er," Coin slowly withdrew his hand. "Why are you here? From everything I''ve heard, this place isn''t exactly pleasant. Can''t imagine many people come near here by choice." He took a step back as Essine swept toward her cookpot.


    "I''m not for the scenery, I can tell you that much." Igrei chuckled, folding his arms. "I have a passion for finding and dealing with Bleak-born artefacts, and I have reason to believe that one still lingers here. Something that could be problematic if left unattended."


    Coin frowned. "Sounds dangerous." In truth he knew very little about the Bleak. Just that people cursed and groused about it, and that it was meant to be the home of some horrible creatures. And, if Charnyll was any indication, their presence could be... impactful.


    "Indeed it is. But it''s a job that needs doing."


    The door creaked open as Elijah entered, the old man muttering to himself as he tucked a spyglass into his coat. "Seems Dancer is fully recovered. We pushed the old boy rather hard the other night though. So, to be on the safe side, I''d rather not leave until tomorrow."


    "Ah, good. Seems everyone will be rested and ready by then," Pearl said, pushing up from the crate she''d been using as a makeshift seat. "And not a moment too soon. This place makes my damn skin crawl, and I''m jumping at every shadow!" Indeed, she looked as if sleep had been evading her.


    "Yes, well as long as Coin is-" He froze as he glanced up at Coin. "Goodness, he''s already up and about. Don''t overdo it lad!"


    "I''m fine, really," Coin said, raising a hand. "My shirt, less so. At least I had a spare."


    "Clothes can be replaced, your life can''t," the older man replied, offering him a wan smile. "And if you''re up for it, we can get back on the road come tomorrow. I was using my spyglass too check the land beyond Charnyll, but I found no trace of anyone nearby. Seems we''ve slipped our pursuers."


    "For now," Essine replied, plating some fried chicken for Coin. She handed it over to him, but kept her gaze on Elijah. "This one doubts are pursuers will give up so easily. We must be cautious with what route we take back to Sentinel."


    "Already planned for, lass. I''ve spent the past night checking my maps, looking for obscure back roads we can try. Once we get close enough to Sentinel, within range of guard patrols, only a suicidal moron would try to pursue us."


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    "They seemed suitably suicidal and moronic when they insisted on chasing a man throwing lightning bolts at them," Pearl retorted.


    Elijah shrugged. "Knowing Broadfellow''s reputation? Coin was probably the safer option."


    "Goodness. You really have found yourselves being pursued by dangerous individuals," Igrei said, tilting his head. "Though our paths may diverge, I''ll still do what I can to aid you if any problem comes your way while we''re together. My ancestors would curse me if I didn''t."


    "Very appreciated, young man!" Elijah cheerily replied.


    Igrei wore a strained smile on his face. "I''m... likely older than you, ser."


    "Ah, right. Hard to keep track of such things when it comes to elves, I''ll admit."


    Turning, Igrei sauntered toward his staff. He hoisted it, the cookfire glinting on the sharpened point of his staff. "But, for now, I have one more spot I want to check in this town. I''ve spent some time narrowing down possible locations to check, and and if you''re leaving town tomorrow, I may as well check it too."


    Coin gave Igrei''s back a wary glance as he gnawed some of Essine''s chicken. His worries were so palpable that they drowned out the juicy taste of the chicken.


    "I could do with a walk, and some fresh air." Though anyone who described the air in Charnyll as ''fresh'' would be called a damn loon. "Maybe I should tag along with you."


    Just in case he wasn''t as wholesome as he let on.


    Igrei shrugged. "If you feel so inclined, my friend."


    "Then this one shall come along too. Just in case anything lurks outside," Essine replied. "The ears and nose of this one will warn of danger."


    "Mm. I''ve been told kobold''s are fine trackers. I doubt any creatures from the Bleak linger here but in matters relating to that cursed place... caution is strongly advised."


    Pearl gawked at the trio as they made for the door. "You''re willingly going out in that horrible place?" she asked.


    Coin downed the last of his offered meal. "If there''s something dangerous here, I''d prefer to deal with it rather than run the risk of it creeping up on us." And if, by chance, Igrei was secretly tied to one of their adversaries... it was just common sense to keep a close eye on him.


    "Very well. Just don''t be gone for too long," Elijah called after them. "You''re only barely recovered, after all!"


    "I''ll be fine," Coin assured him. And he would be, now that he was on his feet. Though he was hungrier than he''d care to admit, and would need to eat something... raw to recover some of the biomass he''d used up.


    Once outside, a cool breeze hit his face. Stale, unpleasant, carrying a scent unlike any Coin any had known before. His eyes roamed about as they travelled, examining the scorched buildings and collapsed structures.


    Old bones and skulls were left scattered in the narrow alleys. Some of them sported teeth marks.


    Well, it wasn''t like Coin was in a position to judge...


    "So, Igrei, I notice you''re using a staff for your promethium?" he asked, deciding to distract himself. "I was under the impression rings were the norm."


    "They are, usually. Rings, bracelets, bracers... anything that can be worn. It''s safe, you see, to have a catalyst you can''t drop or have flung for your grasp. Indeed, even I have a spare ring on my person." He patted just under the collar of his robe. "But this staff is special. A family heirloom, passed down since the Age of Grief."


    Coin nodded, completely and utterly oblivious to the finer points of history. "Must be fairly old then," he said.


    "Oh yes, centuries. Magic was a different beast in those days."


    They drew steadily toward the eastern wall of the town, and the atmosphere grew noticeably heavier as they progressed. Gradually, the streets opened out and parted to reveal the remnants of a large brick structure with a partially collapsed roof. A tattered flag hung from one of the walls, much of the colour having been faded from time and the elements.


    The streets surrounded the building in a circle, lined with many gouges, scorched craters, and clawed footprints that had punched into the cobbles. Whatever beasts had left these marks behind, it had clearly been large.


    "A barracks," Igrei noted, his voice barely above a murmur. "When the demons attacked this town, I don''t doubt they swept toward here like a pack of locusts."


    "Makes sense. Those would be the only people who could fight back." Broken swords and discarded hilts were scattered among the debris. "But they fought with everything they had, regardless." Even as a mindless mimic, Coin had known better than to underestimate the fires of human desperation.


    Essine came to a stop, a shiver racing through her body. The two men looked to her, but the kobold seemed almost paralysed. "There is... something in there," she muttered.


    Nodding, Igrei aimed his staff toward the damaged structure. The tip of his staff adopted a white hot glow, and the wizard spent several moments examining something that seemed visible only to him.


    "An aura hangs above this place," the elf noted, the corners of his lips tugging into a thin line. "Potent. Could just be an after effect of how pronounced this battle was, or..."


    He fell silent, staring toward the barracks.


    Coin couldn''t sense what he sensed, not to the same degree at least, but every primal instinct in his brain was setting off alarm bells in the back of his head. The building could only have looked more imposing if it was actively on fire.


    "Well then..." Igrei lowered his staff and cracked his neck from side to side. "Only thing to do is press on."


    "Y-you are certain?" Essine asked, her whiskers twitching from the mounting unease.


    "Ha. Certainly not. But it needs to be done," Igrei said. He turned and started toward the barracks, his staff clutched carefully in both hands.


    Coin stared at his back for several moments, and ultimately pressed on after him.

 Chapter 58 - Fear the Phantasm

    The interior to the barracks was no more pleasant than the exterior, the walls and floor sporting thick coating of ash. Coin quickly spied a few human silhouettes scorched into the brickwork, and discarded bones littered among the bricks.


    A thick stench hung in the air as they passed through the foyer, passing the broken weapon racks and melted suits of armour.


    Essine lingered behind in the doorway, resting her claws against the decaying wood. She regularly sniffed the air. Nothing stood out, beyond the decay, yet she was paralysed with fear and her fur was standing to attention.


    Coin clenched his fists tightly, power slowly pulsing through his flesh and condensing in his promethium ring. It felt as if any moment, the shadows themselves would come alive and attack them.


    They entered the central chamber, lined on either side by the collapsed remnants of many bunk beds. The ruins would have been unremarkable, save for something glinting at the back of the room. Coin stepped forward to get a closer look, only to halt when Igrei lifted his staff to bar his path.


    Something was embedded in a pile of fallen bricks, a sharpened dagger that had skewered the masonry as if it were a block of butter. Coils of black fog and stray particles of luminous green light wafted from the expertly sculpted metal. For all the years Charnyll had gone untouched, the knife didn''t have a single speck of rust on the gleaming metal.


    "A dagger?" Coin murmured, the bizarreness of the situation forcing him to bleat out the obvious.


    "One rife with Bleak energy. Goodness... the wielder must have been killed on this very spot, their weapon left untouched by his kin. And in all that time, the charge from it hasn''t faded. Impressive, truly," Igrei murmured.


    "W-what do you need to do then? Do you plan to destroy it from here?" Essine warily asked. Even though the barracks was empty, she was nervously curling her clawed fingers around the hilt of her own blade. Her eyes fixated on the handle, made from elegant black leather with a sparkling silver knuckle guard.


    "I''d like to examine it a bit first. Keep your distance, and whatever you do... keep your hands off that damn thing," Igrei said, slowly advancing with his staff aimed at the immobile blade.


    Coin didn''t need to be told twice. Everything about the glowing dagger told him that if he touched it, he would be lucky if he lived to regret it.


    All was silent, save for the quiet shuffles of Igrei''s bootclad feet. He paused when he was only a few paces from the knife. The flickering smoke grew wilder, more erratic, as if reacting to Igrei''s presence. This did little to daunt the elf, who quietly took aim until a halo of white light blossomed around the tip of his staff.


    The light was near-blinding to look directly into, generating a small gale that blossomed at Igrei''s feet and kicked up a coil of dust and ash. The glow expanded, spreading outward as an ethereal tendril that slowly drew toward the dagger.


    Slowly, carefully, it inched closer. Coin didn''t even realise he was holding his breath, nor did he notice the uncertain sweat dappling his brow. This, everything about it, felt... off.


    A shadow flickered, just beyond the reach of Igrei''s luminous staff.


    Coin found himself moving before he even realised it, lunging toward a figure that was weaving itself into existence from the darkness. A sleek shape, two heads taller than Coin, with scaly dark grey skin, spindly angular limbs, four glowing golden eyes, and a ridge of black quills running down the length of his spine.


    Coin''s fist, strong enough to smash stone into powder, collided with the incoming creature. The beast recoiled, hissing despite his lack of a mouth. But his counter was near-instant, a backhand that sent the mimic skidding across the floor.


    Igrei turned in that same moment, the light on his staff swiftly morphing into unfolding waves of white hot flame. The blazing jet struck the creature, making him shriek and recoil. Yet, while the flames scorched and melted the surrounding wall, it seemed to do no lasting damage to his flesh.


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    "Phantasm!" the elf cried.


    The phantasm whipped his arm forward, launching a flurry of sleek black quills that punched through the blaze of magic. Igrei hurled himself aside, avoiding the projectiles as they punched deep into the wall behind him.


    "Essine," Coin huffed, watching the phantasm with an unblinking gaze. "Keep back!"


    He took aim at the slim creature just as the smoke finished hissing away from his flesh. An ache rolled down his right arm as Coin summoned his magic and directed it toward his ring. A lightning bolt flashed from his palm and exploded against the phantasm, smashing the hissing mass against the wall. The stones cracked against his slim weight.


    The creature loped toward him with lightning quickness, and Coin only barely avoided a few incoming slashes from his claws. The mimic ducked and weaved around the incoming attacks, landing more blows against his foe''s scaly hide. Yet these did little to slow the phantasm, who only let out hisses and snarls of pain.


    An aura of alabaster light suddenly engulfed the phantasm, producing an immense weight that suddenly forced him into a crouch. The ground cracked and buckled in protest, yet the demon was still actively fighting against the strain.


    "Must be a spirit bound to the knife in some way. Waiting all this time for someone to come by to feed on them!" Igrei grunted, his voice strained. He pushed his staff forward, the glow of the promethium tip becoming steadily stronger. Yet, even as he poured more power forward, the phantasm continued to rail and strain against it.


    The demon threw his head back and shrieked without a mouth, a crushing peal of sound that shattered the magic surrounding him. The outflowing shock wave struck Igrei and flung him back, while Coin was pinned further back against the wall.


    Coin hissed, wincing as the pain of his sore muscles flared to life again. The phantasm''s palm drove him into the wall, but Coin was quick to counter. Particularly with the plumes of smoke and dust obscuring him from Igrei. His neck elongated, his teeth growing and sharpening into an assortment of of shark-like chompers.


    His jaws clamped down like a bear trap, puncturing the demon''s collarbone and filling Coin''s mouth with a burst of the foulest blood he''d ever tasted before. A strange combination of brimstone and bog water.


    A pained shriek escaped the phantasm, his quad of eyes widening in alarm. He had undoubtedly killed many humans in the past. But a human taking a bite out of him with lupine ferocity was certainly new.


    Coin was struck to the floor, the blow shaking his vision. He absorbed the demon''s blood and shredded skin into his maw, but he glanced up to see the wounds slowly knitting themselves back together. Coin''s eyes widened, his jaw morphing back into a more human shape.


    A hard kick caught him in the ribs, flinging the mimic back. His body struck Igrei as he tried to stand upright, the two men tumbling and clattering in a heap.


    "D-damn!" the elf cried, only barely keeping a grip on his staff. He tried to force himself up, while Coin scrambled to rise. Electricity and wind whirled around Coin''s arms, letting out a flickering blue glow into the ruined barracks. Power hummed through his flesh, growing more intense by the second.


    This thing was tough. Far stronger than anything Coin had ever fought before. Even if he landed a few direct hits of lightning, he doubted that would be enough to put it down.


    Creatures like this were the norm for the Bleak? Small wonder people in Arcadia feared this place so fiercely if such monstrosities could spill from it.


    The Phantasm swept toward him, the two men jumping aside as his claws smashed into the floor. Dust and wood chips sprayed up into the air, and the room shook and shuddered in protest.


    Igrei took aim and launched a bolt of white flame at the Phantasm, just as a crushing wave of thunder shot from Coin''s palm. The simultaneous impacts slammed into both sides of the creature, who hissed and staggered back, his quills bristling down the length of his spine.


    Then, suddenly, he thrust his head forth and let out another shriek that surged toward the two and uprooted a swathe of the floor. Igrei had aimed his staff forward, creating a wall of shimmering in front of the two to act as a barrier. Yet the phantasm pressed his assault, while Igrei grunted and strained as he tried to maintain the barrier.


    "Damnation," Igrei grunted, clenching his teeth tightly. "This one is something else! Can''t remember the last time I fought a Phantasm this tough!"


    Coin narrowed his eyes, reeling as the two waves of magical force crashed into each other with rising intensity. He was at least partially recovered from his prior illness, but he''d probably knock himself out cold if he poured too much magical power into a single attack. But a fully charged bolt of lightning, aimed directly at the creature''s head while he was standing in place... would that be enough to end him?


    He raised his right hand and took aim, a surge racing through every nerve of his body. Magic flowed through him, like a raging river crashing through a freshly formed stream, all racing toward the conduction point of his ring. Enough power to flatten a building, hot enough to melt stone like butter. Enough to kill a beast like this.


    He hoped.


    The roaring scream grew more and more intense, until the edges of Igrei''s barrier were rippling. He couldn''t keep it up indefinitely, his face straining from the exertion. They''d be lucky if the barrier held for a handful of seconds!


    Power built more and more in Coin''s upraised hand, while the flickering of Igrei''s barrier began to glow with a near-blinding intensity. Coin squinted against the glare, hoping that his aim would still be good against the glare.


    And in the chaos, Coin only barely saw a shape rushing toward the phantasm. A noise of splitting flesh echoed through the barracks, so harsh that the Bleak-born demon halted his shrieking entirely. Coin and Igrei stared in shock, the blinding glow of the barrier gradually melting away.


    Essine stood trembling beside the frozen phantasm, burying the luminous dagger into the side of his neck. Bilious blood oozed from the wound in his neck, an injury that should have killed any living being... yet the creature stood idle, as if nothing had happened at all.


    His quad of golden eyes flicked sharply toward Essine, who froze in place under his harsh stare. She was trembling, huffing for breath, her desperation and fear driving her to an action most would have called insane.


    Then, suddenly, a harsh and ragged sound began to rumble at the creature''s slim chest, echoing in the choking silence of Charnyll.


    He was laughing.

 Chapter 59 - Tiny Black Wren

    The group stood in place, unblinking and fearful eyes locked to the cackling visage of the phantasm. He barely seemed to even notice the great blade stuck in his neck, even as his foul blood seeped from the wound. Essine was frozen, trembling, and Coin only barely noticed that she was trying and failing to take her hand off the leather handle.


    "Oh no," Igrei whispered.


    Suddenly, in a blinding green flash, the phantasm vanished from sight. Coin blinked a few times, trying to clear the spots from his vision. He looked around frantically, sniffing the air and straining his ears for any sign of the creature. Yet he found nothing.


    "E-Essine, are you alright?" he asked, pushing himself upright. "Why did you do that? You could have been killed."


    "This one was... afraid. That creature was so strong, it looked as if it could kill you. And seeing it distracted, and sensing the strength in this blade... this one made a move."


    Igrei frowned. "The blade called out to her," the elf murmured, gripping his staff tighter.


    A flash tore up the length of the dagger, producing a wave of energy that obliterated Essine''s right sleeve. The kobold screamed, a series of luminous lime green runes blazing to life on her fur. The blazing glow grew more intense and knocked her to the floor, an intense pain making her writhe in place. Yet even as she rolled and thrashed, her grip on the Bleak dagger never faltered.


    Coin was at her side in an instant, holding the back of her neck with one hand. The other darted to the knife to try and take it from her grasp, but it burned red hot at his touch. He snarled and pulled back, pain seeping through his fingers.


    "Igrei, what''s happening to her!"


    "The Phantasm we fought was a physical projection of the spirit living inside that knife. And now that she''s holding it, the spirit inside is trying to overtake your friend," Igrei said, narrowing his eyes as he inspected the symbols on her harm.


    Her chest rose and fell with panicked breaths, and her eyes were screwed shut in a mix of pain and panic. "Then destroy it!" Coin growled.


    "It''s not that simple. It''s already entwining itself with her, feeding upon her. And even if we were to destroy it... it would kill her in the process."


    Igrei raised his staff, the pointed tip becoming wreathed in a burning white halo. "So... so what...? Just kill her?!"


    "I''m sorry. But to leave her like this is just to sentence her to a slow, agonising end. For her own benefit, I''m going to destroy both-"


    Coin''s fist whipped out so fast that Igrei didn''t even see it, knocking him out in one strike. The mimic felt a tiny flash of guilt for doing so, but he wasn''t about to sit back and let anyone hurt Essine. Not if he could help it.


    He leaned in closer to Essine, who had trailed off into a strange murmuring. Whatever she was saying, she was saying it in a strange language Coin had no understanding of. The kobold tongue? Coin shook his head. It didn''t matter, not now.


    Coin gripped her wrist and leaned in close to the blade, which hummed in his ear with a rising intensity. "I know you can hear me. If you''re smart enough to laugh, you''re smart enough to think. Believe me, I know the line between being a man and monster. So talk to me," he hissed.


    A strange tinny laugh rose in Essine''s lungs, making Coin reel away from her. "I''m sure you know much, little monster. What an interesting creature you must be." When Essine spoke, it was with a voice not her own. The phantasm had hijacked her throat and lungs.


    "Why are you doing this?" Coin growled.


    "I have lingered here for so... so long. I''m famished," the phantasm hissed, drawing shallow breaths into Essine''s mouth. "This rat-thing is barely more than a morsel. But she is a banquet compared to my long starvation!"


    Coin paled. It really was going to kill her. Essine''s face contorted in pain, her free hand clawing at the dirty floor and raking a path in the wood. "Wait, wait, we can make a deal! Why... why eat just one person when you can have others?"


    Essine''s breathing slowed, some of the pain in her body seeming to subside. "Continue," the phantasm said.


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    "You... you want to feed, yes? Then... how about this? Anyone I kill, you feed on them and get your sustenance. Fifty people. But you let her go." Part of him was revolted at his own words. But he only ever killed people who meant to kill him first. Bandits, monsters, and the like. Fifty of them for Essine''s life? He was willing to make that trade.


    The temple fell silent, save for Essine''s breathing. Then, eventually, the phantasm spoke up. "My. It''s rare for someone of this sphere to be so... open to negotiation with my kin. And it''s a tempting offer, truly. But how do I know I can trust you?"


    "Can I trust you?" Coin bluntly asked.


    "Hmph. As violent and destructive as my kin are, you''ll find we always uphold our deals."


    The corners of Coin''s mouth were tugged into an uneasy frown. He was hardly thrilled by this, but if there was a magical way to deal with this then he had no idea what it was. Beyond killing Essine, which he would not allow.


    "Fifty lives," Coin confirmed. He fought a strange reflex to cross his fingers as he spoke.


    Essine''s other hand wrapped around Coin''s wrist to hold him in place. "Fifty lives," the phantasm growled, as more waves of emerald light wafted around Essine''s body.


    The mimic nodded firmly. "You got a name?"


    "Iago-Ahdjall. But you may call me Iago. I know the people of your lowly sphere abhor what they refer to as ''long names.''"


    Pain lanced through his body in a sudden rush, forcing Coin to clench his teeth. His body swayed, struggling for balance, and he glanced down to see the dagger was now clutched in his hands. So fast that even his sharp reflexes hadn''t seen a thing. Essine sagged into the ground, her breathing gentle and relaxed, the runes on her arm slowly melting away.


    But for Coin, the pain only grew more intense. Agony raced through his flesh, travelling up his clenched fists. His nose became flooded with an ashen, burning stench, his mouth ran bone dry, a dreadful scream pierced his ears and seemed to echo endlessly. And in his mind it felt as if a colony of ants were crawling relentlessly around in his grey matter.


    Goddess... even the emerald venom felt pleasant in comparison.


    ''What... sort of mind is this?'' Iago''s words echoed in his brain, as if lost in a vast labyrinth. ''So chaotic, so misshapen. It''s a turbulent ocean being barely hemmed in. And this... body. It looks human, but inside... inside it''s like a strange slurry of meat that has been moulded and twisted into a human shape. What are you?''


    Coin grit his teeth and sucked in some air. His magic surged in his body, producing an aura of bristling electricity. Slowly, he sucked the knife into his arm and sheathed it in a pocket of dense, calcified flesh. A sheath that was sturdier than stone.


    Bit by bit, as he summoned his own willpower, he pushed Iago''s influence further and further within himself. "Don''t you ever try to take control of me," he huffed. "You''ll find I''m tougher to reel in than Essine. And if you try to do so... I''ll use my magic to blow myself to smithereens!"


    ''You would, wouldn''t you?'' Iago asked, trailing off into a teasing laugh. ''Well, worry not. I doubt I could puppeteer this strange miasma of meat in the way you do. Not that it matters. Come, let''s get started on my meal.''


    He felt his senses being tugged toward Igrei''s unconscious body. Coin narrowed his eyes, still fighting against the phantasm''s unseen claws. "No."


    ''No?'' Sharp pain lanced from his wrist toward his shoulder, forcing Coin to grit his teeth. ''Then perhaps I should simply feed upon you, if you won''t fulfil your obligations.''


    Coin slowly rolled his sleeve up his left elbow, the dagger glowing brightly through his flesh. They couldn''t take the dagger from Essine''s hand, he noted. Not when it burned so hot to the touch. And removing her hand wasn''t something that could easily be done to a normal person.


    But Coin was far removed from normalcy.


    With his power surging, he funnelled his magic to his right hand until he''d forged a powerful lightning bolt.


    ''What... what are you-''


    Iago''s words were drowned out by a pained groan from Coin. He whipped his left arm downward, jettisoning the chunk of calcified meat from his forearm with a spurt of blood. It hit the ground with a thud, cracking open to reveal the glowing gleam of the dagger.


    Iago''s voice vanished from his mind. The phantasm''s presence, which had threaded itself into his body like a fleet of harpoons skewering a whale, was wrenched away in an instant. Though Coin still felt woozy. Tearing a chunk of his own mass away hardly helped.


    Mimics, much like coyotes, could gnaw off chunks of their own biomass if they were trapped in a way they couldn''t otherwise escape. But to give something up, be it wealth or their own flesh, was a high hurdle for a mimic to clear.


    He staggered back just as Iago''s phantasm erupted from the dagger, shrieking and flashing his talons. Coin snapped his right hand forward, a crushing wave of lightning shooting from his palm. It overwhelmed Iago, drowning out his shrieks, and sought to obliterate the dagger behind him. The lightning, a continuous and blinding jet of boiling plasma, stripped and scorched chunks of Iago''s flesh. And yet the demon pressed on, trying to shield the cursed blade with his body.


    From the corner of his eye, Coin could barely see Igrei struggling to his feet. But he was in no condition to lend his aid. Coin spread his feet, trying to draw more and more power through his body. And yet the phantasm pressed toward him, only partially slowing in his approach.


    Coin grit his teeth. His mind raced, desperately trying to concoct a way to save them all.


    A wave of sickly green light struck both Iago and the dagger in the side, pulling a horrendous cry from the phantasm. His flesh, already being scorched and shredded away, began to wilt under the alien glow.


    Iago retreated, trying to pull back toward the dagger. But he decayed more and more by the second, until he had collapsed into a dissolving cloud of ash. Gone, without a trace. The dagger protruded from the cocoon of stony flesh, now rendered dull and devoid of any magical light.


    Coin took a breath as the surge of his magic slowly trickled away. The alien glow died away too, but Coin was able to turn toward the source before it vanished. Essine was sitting upright, panting for breath. Green light smoked from her right hand, gradually fading. Her eyes carried a similar glow, and those strange runes were flickering on her upper arm.


    He watched in stunned silence, only moving again after Essine collapsed back. "Damnation," the mimic muttered. "How did she... Agh, doesn''t matter!" They could get answers later, when they were away from this cursed town.


    Coin hoisted Igrei under one arm, and Essine under the other, and slowly carried them from the ruined barracks. It was hardly wise, exerting himself so much when he was only freshly recovered. But nobody had ever accused him of being a genius.


    He emerged onto the streets outside, huffing for breath. And, as he went, he only barely took notice of a bird perched on the roof of a nearby building, watching them with a keen interest.


    A tiny black wren.

 Chapter 60 - Scylla the Witch

    Despite everything that had transpired, the group still decided to leave Charnyll behind when the next morning came. Talk of the battle with the phantasm, if anything, had motivated them to be even quicker in their retreat. They had lingered in the town long enough, with no trace of anyone else on their trail to give them pause.


    Plus, having nearly been killed by an immensely strong beast from the Bleak had made the town feel even more inhospitable. Impressive, considering how damn awful the town had been beforehand. Come the morning, when they were as rested as they could get and their supplies were reaching a bit of a low, the group set out along the route Elijah had planned.


    "It''s... a lot to take in. Still can''t fathom it entirely," Igrei said, resting his chin on his palm. He had come to town riding a red-shelled mushien, and left it the same way. He sat in a saddle atop her back, flanked by an assortment of locked chests that were lashed to the chitin. "I still don''t know how you got the creature to relinquish its grasp on Essine, without the blade bonding to your flesh in the process."


    "Your guess is as good as mine. I had a bit of a theory about forming a magical barrier in my hand as soon as he tried to jump to me. Created a buffer that allowed me to toss it," Coin said, lying through his ass.


    "I suppose that''s possible. Not entirely implausible, but still. I suppose that phantasm was very desperate if he tried to hear your offer out." Igrei leaned forward in his saddle and grimaced, touching the bandage wrapped around his head. "Damnation. If only that brick from the ceiling hadn''t walloped me."


    The benefits of having superhuman speed was that it was easy to lie to people about what they had or had not seen. His sucker punch had been so swift, and his position had been aligned in just such a way that Igrei had no reason to suspect him.


    Save for the occasional uncertain glance he gave Coin.


    "I''m more concerned about this strange magic Essine used," Elijah said from where he sat. Bit by bit Charnyll was receding into the distance, and the landscape steadily became more colourful and vibrant. Even the air felt fresher.


    Igrei nodded grimly. "Never heard of an ability like that before. But, since our friend seemingly can''t summon that power at will... it was likely a one time thing."


    They had tried a few times to see if Essine could call upon the eerie green light again, even letting her borrow Coin''s promethium ring for the sake of experimentation. But, ultimately, she had had no luck. And, mild exhaustion aside, she had shown no side effects to worry about either.


    "And since I can''t sense any trace of a Bleak presence in her body, she seems like she''ll be fine. For the best. It would not be wise to let someone infested by the Bleak back into society."


    "This one can hear you, you know. Perhaps do not speak so casually about the prospect of killing this one, yes?" she asked from the rear of the wagon.


    "Hah. Apologies. But it''s true, sad to say."


    Elijah shrugged. "Not that it''s as much of an issue these days. Inquisitions stopped being a thing back when I was a lad."


    "Evil festers whenever good men grow docile," Igrei simply replied.


    "Oh, please, stop being so damn morose!" Pearl groaned, shaking her head. "Everything worked out just fine in the end. No need to speculate on ghastly, spooky things. Why must men always become bogged down in imagining dire hypotheticals?"


    "For the fun of it," Elijah bluntly replied.


    Ignoring him, Pearl kept her focus on her lute. "But I must once again give praise to our fair Essine. That''s twice she''s saved the day. She may look like a mouse, but she has the heart of a lioness. Oh!" Her head snapped up, an excitable grin on her face. "Now that would be a fine lyric, if I can think up the right notes to use."


    Essine poked her head from the wagon''s curtains. "Notes? What do you mean?"


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    "Well... I was hoping to write a song about you," Pearl replied, giving the kobold a smile. "Kobolds have a bit of a poor reputation among the ignorant populace. But songs can change hearts and move mountains. The tale of a heroic kobold girl, I hope, will be a powerful thing."


    Essine groaned and sank back into the wagon, flush with embarrassment.


    "Goodness..." Coin sank back in his chair to watch the bard. "You two seem to be getting along much better now." Not that he was complaining. Playing peacemaker between them would be a challenge if their tension had persisted.


    "Yes, well, it''s hard not to admire someone after they''ve saved your rear," Pearl replied.


    The group travelled throughout the day, keeping an eye on the roads as they went along. Occasionally they would halt whenever Elijah spied someone through his spyglass, and then carry on after everything seemed safe.


    There was never a trace of anyone pursuing them, blessedly, and it seemed likely the group would reach Sentinel in record time if their pace persisted. Even the elements were seemingly on their side, warm sunlight guiding their path.


    Come sunset the next day, it seemed that they were well and truly in the clear. If anyone was following them, they were at such a distance that there was no way to perceive them. The group gradually relaxed, particularly when a roadside structure came into view for them.


    A roadside inn with an assortment of wagons and carriages parked in the side yard, sporting symbols for different trading companies on the sides. The stables on the other side were similarly packed with steeds and mushien.


    "Scarecrow''s Perch," Elijah said, gesturing to the scarecrow protruding from the thatched roof of the structure. "Run by an old friend of mine, Mozh Farrow."


    "And you think we''ll be safe here?" Coin asked.


    "Indeed. Mozh is one of the most honest men I''ve ever known, and has a good nose for sniffing out criminal types. No one with ties to the Brotherhood, or any gang, would find shelter under his roof."


    Pearl tilted her head to the side. "Why the scarecrow?"


    "Well, believe it or not, that scarecrow was actually the only thing on that land when Mozh bought it. He liked the look of the old boy, kept him around like a flag," Elijah explained.


    "Doing what he can to keep a man from becoming homeless, I suppose." Igrei sank back in his saddle. "I hate to ask, but will he let a kobold into his establishment."


    "He wouldn''t turn anyone from his door, provided they can cross his hand with ducats."


    Coin sat upright, pressing his right fist into his left palm. "And if anyone makes an issue out of it, they''re welcome to take it up with me."


    The stablemaster, a burly gnome with a braided blond beard, tended to their wagon when they arrived. After being tipped with a pair of ducats by Elijah, of course.


    Elijah had said that it was often a good call to tip labourers where possible. It was a good look to have, for one thing, it made a merchant appear generous and also wealthy enough to give a few coins away without a care. And, moreover, it made workers more inclined to work with and trust a merchant.


    It was nice to be nice. Particularly if you could get something out of it.


    Chattering and fiddle music greeted the group as they pressed inside, none of the customers giving them a passing glance. A man stood behind the bar, tall and pale with a thin crop of grey hair, idly cleaning a pewter tankard with a cloth in his hand. He locked eyes with Elijah and grunted in recognition.


    "Long time no see Mozh!" Elijah called, making his way over.


    Mozh set the tankard down and wiped his hands in his smock. "Would''ve thought you were dead, DiVenture. Seeing how trouble follows at your heels like a hungry hound," he replied. He nodded at the group behind him. "Seems you''re not alone this time around."


    "Close friends and confidants, old chum. And I can pay for bed and board for all of us," he said, motioning to his coin purse.


    "Well, that was never in doubt. Andea, dearest, can you find a table for our newest guests?"


    Mozh''s wife was a woman who seemed to be his polar opposite in appearance. A woman with dark brown skin, broad and plump of build, and a braid of black hair than ran down her back. And, notably, she smiled much more than Mozh did. "Ah, friends of Elijah? Wonderful, wonderful! Please, this way."


    Coin took the lead while Elijah went to talk prices with Mozh. "Say, you still keep messenger birds out back, don''t you?" he heard Elijah ask.


    "We do. Same rates as ever."


    "Ah, wonderful. I do need to send a letter along to Sentinel in advance. I was hoping to get in touch with the law offices of Auld and Graye."


    Coin left his mentor to his business and took a seat at the offered table. Pearl kept her gaze on the fiddler by the back of the room all the while, displeasure writ large on her pretty features.


    As far as musicians meant, he was more... passionate than skilled.


    "Now then, you lot get comfortable and I''ll fetch you some ciders. Figure you lot''ll appreciate the refreshments if you''ve been on the road all day."


    Gradually the group settled into their chairs, relaxing and catching their breath. Save for Coin. Outwardly he was leaning back, a calm expression on his face. Inwardly, his sharp eyes were surveying every other patron he could see.


    Perhaps Elijah was right, maybe the Scarecrow''s Perch was entirely safe and managed to sniff out potential criminals. On the other hand, Coin was willing to bet the Brotherhood were very good at blending in.


    He was snapped from his thoughts when the front door creaked open, drawing his eyes. A woman, clad all in black with a broad-brimmed hat stepped inside. Her presence drew far more eyes than the arrival of Coin''s group, the air around her seeming to carry a faint shimmer.


    Coin stared at her in silence for several moments, knitting his brow in thought. It took him a moment to grapple with the strange sense of familiarity the woman was giving off, and it was only when their eyes met that he realised why she stood out so much to him.


    It may have been ages since they last met, but it was hard to forget the first magic-user he had ever properly met. "That''s... Scylla the witch," Coin murmured.

 Chapter 61 - Hunting and Surveying

    When it came to animals, the Arcadian pronghorn was an odd sort of beast. A pure herbivore but built with the speed and aggression of a hellcat. Fiercely territorial, and always keen to gore perceived interlopers with their twisting ivory horns.


    And many, as Leona had learned in her childhood, the majority would fight to the death instead of fleeing.


    She regarded the pronghorn warily, watching the blood that matted his raven coat from an assortment of cuts. She had cut into it from an assortment of angles, never being so much as nicked by the beast''s horns. And yet, the creature showed no signs of halting his assault.


    She watched the beast warily, staring into his stark yellow eyes. The pronghorn was tensed on the crushed grass, illuminated by the fading sunlight on the horizon. Steam born from exertion wafted from his taut muscles.


    It lunged toward her in a sudden burst of speed, his spiral horns aimed square at Leona''s torso. The assassin braced, gripping her blades tightly as magic pulsed through to the meteorite metal bangles on her wrists.


    Yet she fought against the alluring pull of her own magic, the honed reflexes that told her to jump away. She wanted to challenge herself, after all.


    Strength raced through her lithe body as she jumped clean over the charging beast, landing a few paces behind her quarry. The beast turned, mid-charge, snarling and bleating while froth hissed from his mouth. Leona swept toward the pronghorn before he could fully regain his balance, the sword in her right hand whistling down through the air.


    The thwack of metal meeting his neck echoed through the woodlands, the sound of gargled blood drowning out the beast''s bleating. He hit the ground with a thud, twitched briefly, and quickly fell still.


    Leona flicked the flowing blood from her sword. "Good fight!" she cheerily said. It was important, she oft told herself, to respect a worthy foe even when they were too dead to appreciate the respect.


    She had no respect for those who hunted their quarries with bows and slings. Sure it took skill and patience to be able to accurately bullseye a deer from many yards away, it wasn''t something any drunken fool could do.


    Not for lack of trying, anyway. There were cemeteries full of oafs who had decided, in the midst of a stag party or some other ritual Leona had seen common people drunkenly indulge in, that it would be a jolly good time to go and kill a buck while they were practically marinated in wine. More often than not they''d kill each other with a misfired arrow before a bear, a cockatrice, a hellcat, or any other beast could make a meal of them.


    For Leona, a hunt was not worth indulging in if it did not entail a considerable physical risk. It was much more fun to duel a hellcat on treacherous mountain, blade to claw, than to try and headshot it from behind a bush a considerable distance away.


    She set about cleaning her kill, setting the skin aside, and prepared her meat before she went to set up her campfire for the evening. She had sent her two underlings off to deal with the last of Broadfellow''s men, figuring that she could be more subtle in following their actual targets on her own.


    And, frankly, the two were more than enough to handle some dumb thugs on their own.


    Her campfire was alight by the time the moons had risen. Leona had set aside a few strips of pronghorn meat to preserve into jerky, and then set about grilling a large chunk for herself. Pronghorn meat, particularly when grilled in nature, was tough and greasy.


    But Leona had never really fretted about such things in the past. So long as she was fed, she was happy.


    "So many days spent fecklessly lingering in that cursed town. Honestly, what were they even doing out there?" Leona murmured in between dripping mouthfuls of cooked meat. She had propped her back against the trunk of a nearby tree


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    She had watched Charnyll from afar, well camouflaged by the canopy of nature, and had been able to see very little from her vantage point. She hadn''t into the town itself. Not out of fear, certainly not, but her presence could have sent those merchants into a blind panic.


    "Were they really waiting all that time just to make sure nobody was trailing them?" She pulled a cloth from her belt and used it to wipe her digits clean.


    Turning her head and peering through the surrounding brush, she could just barely glimpse the distant shape of the inn. Were it not for the shape of the scarecrow on the roof, it would look indistinct to any other roadside strcture.


    "Well they might have been able to shake those other fools, but they can''t shake me." Her magic, a rare form according to Askyr, made her ideal for hunting and tracking. And so long as this was her mission, she would pursue them into the Bleak itself if she had to.


    Still, it was odd to hunt someone without the expectation that she''ll be killing them come the end of things.


    And with how distinct and peculiar this bunch were, it wasn''t as if they could blend in whenever they resumed their trek.


    As her campfire began to die down, Leona pulled her cloak tighter around herself and let sleep steadily overtake her. Woe betide anyone foolish enough to try and attack her in her slumber.


    Her dream was what her dreams oft were: A memory.


    Choking smoke had filled the air around her, the gutters running red with innocent blood. And she, a wailing child who was barely even a toddler, was left stumbling about the filthy cobbles as the flames consumed more and more of her home town.


    A place she had no true memories of, just the name: Warden''s Field. Anything prior to this day, in her memory, were just vague and hazy recollections of warmth and laughter. The melody of her mother''s voice, a dog large enough for a young child to comfortably sit on the back of, the laugh of her elder brothers.


    Leona could not recall these pleasant memories for long before the screams and fire overwhelmed them.


    Her stumpy legs moved awkwardly and uncertainly, her eyes stinging from tears and smoke. Her young mind reeled, assaulted on all sides with confusion and terror. Bodies were strewn about the streets, many no longer even in one piece. The kind of thing no child should be forced to witness.


    And even as a tot, Leona could still recognise many of the faces frozen in pain and horror. People she had known, people she had cared for, cut down by strangers in armour.


    In her confusion, stumbling and trying to find some measure of safety, she was only able to halt herself when a cloaked man in armour appeared from the alley ahead of her. His axe was dripping red, baleful eyes staring down at Leona from the shade of his visored helmet.


    With no hesitation, no shame, he turned and advanced toward the wailing child with his axe held high overhead. Leona froze, shaking like a leaf. Every instinct in her undeveloped brain told her to run, but her body would not comply.


    Her eyes were focused solely on the bloodstained axe, the blade larger than her whole body. The stranger, wordlessly, raised the axe high with both hands. There was nothing in his eyes, Leona vividly remembered. No hate, no anger, no sorrow. Just pure, crushing, nothingness.


    Just as the man made to swing, a sudden and harsh jerk paralysed him and shook his body. A blade punched clean through the boiled leather covering his stomach, sending a spray of blood onto the dirt road. The axeman gagged and gargled, a horrid wheezing noise rising in his throat.


    In one fluid motion, the figure behind him wrenched his sword free. The armoured man stumbled back, dropping his axe with a noisy clatter. He tried to turn toward his attacker, clutching the seeping wound in his gut, only for a second sword to shave his head from his shoulders in a single stroke.


    Leona stood rooted in place as the swordsman emerged from behind the falling body. A warm breeze ruffled his hood and cloak, giving a brief glimpse at his handsome, youthful face.


    "Poor lass," he huffed, wiping some sweat and ash from his brow with the back of his gloved hand. He glanced around sharply, sheathing the blade in his left hand. "Still a damn warzone here. Streets are packed... but I know a way out of here."


    He crouched and scooped her up in his arm. Finally, at last, Leona had stopped crying. "You have a name?" he asked, turning and setting down a nearby side street. Smoke followed behind them.


    "L-Leona," she mumbled, barely coherent.


    "Leona? That''s a nice name." He forced himself to smile, tried whatever he could to calm her and give her confidence. "I''m Askyr."


    Leona slowly awoke some time later, shrouded in the growing darkness of the night. Slowly, she turned her head back toward the the distant outline of the inn. Lantern light shone from a few of the windows, cutting through the blackness.


    She sighed. Barely a nap at all, she reasoned. she slipped a spyglass from her pocket and peered toward the side yard. DiVenture''s wagon hadn''t budged, to her relief.


    The memory in her dream loomed large in her mind, an incident she had relieved countless times throughout her life. Arcadian soldiers had come hunting runaways from the Brotherhood who had been given shelter in Warden''s Field. And for the crime of their mercy, the settlement had been scoured.


    Leona cared little for politics, thrones, and the machinations of so-called great men. But she cared for Askyr, the man who had saved her and raised her into who she was.


    And even if pursuing these fools was an odd mission to be tasked with, she''d pursue it. All for him.


    A tiny sigh eased from her lips. "I still hope they get a damn move on soon. Can''t stand sitting on my arse for another stretch of days."

 Chapter 62 - Scyllas Dark Wisdom

    Scylla seemed to almost glide across the floor in silent, measured steps that ruffled her dark skirts. A few eyes were on her in passing, only to quickly glance away from the witch. As attractive as she was, the strange power radiating from her body would make anyone think twice about getting too close to her.


    And she, in turn, paid them no mind. Indeed, she was making a beeline squarely toward their table.


    "I take it that you know her?" Pearl warily asked, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.


    "I do, yes," Coin replied in a low voice. This did not put him at ease. If anything, he was increasingly on edge. What had brought her all the way from Wheat Valley? And why was she heading straight his way?


    "A powerful witch, clearly. For a human." There was a faint note of uncertainty in Igrei''s voice as he said ''human'', trying to grapple with the subtle magic strength that radiated from her.


    Coin''s own aptitude for magic had grown considerably since he met Scylla. Now he too could feel her power in detail, an aura that hung about her like rippling heat waves. She came to a stop before them, her fingertips tented together.


    "It''s been some time," she said, managing an impish smile. "I see you''re hale and hearty. That''s good, particularly in the dangerous times we find ourselves living in."


    "Scylla. You''re looking well too," Coin replied, resting his gloved hands on the table. "What brings you out here?"


    "Business, I suppose. May I have a seat?"


    "W-well, if you wish," Pearl said, forcing an awkward smile. Being approached by a stranger, given all they had been through, was somewhat worrying. It was only the fact that Coin knew her that granted Scylla any measure of trust.


    She pulled up a chair from an empty table and made herself comfortable, folding her hands above her lap. "I''m familiar with Ser Coin, but you all are... strangers to me. Please, call me Scylla. I''m a witch from Wheat Valley." She spoke in a calm, placid voice, an easy smile resting on her face. But her eyes betrayed her cunning, slowly stalking over the group and examining them in keen detail.


    "This one is Essine," the kobold replied. She stroked slowly at the exposed fur of her arm, as if trying to trace the strange patterns that had once adorned it.


    "Pearl. Charmed."


    "Call me Igrei. I''m something of a new acquaintance," the elf added. He never took his eye off Scylla, his gaze probing and intense.


    Her smile broadened slightly. "An interesting group, certainly."


    Elijah returned at that moment, carrying a tray weighted with tankards. He paused, spying Scylla, and furrowed his brow. "You''re that witch from Wheat Valley, yes?"


    "You never took my services personally, but you know my look? My reputation precedes me. But then, it does for you as well Ser DiVenture."


    He set the tray down, offering her an awkward smile. "Apologies, we weren''t expecting any company my lass. But I could ask for an extra drink," he said.


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    "No, that won''t be necessary. My thanks for the offer," Scylla replied with a faint wave of her hand. "But I suppose I should say that I am not here entirely for a social visit. Something of great interest has cropped up, something that could be rather... problematic if left unattended." Her eyes roamed to Essine as she spoke, making the kobold shrink back slightly.


    "Well, er, I would imagine it''s rather serious if you came all this way to see us," Elijah said. He nursed a long sip of his cider before heaving a sigh. "No offence to you, Lady Scylla, but dire news from a magic-user is hardly going to brighten our spirits."


    "A sad reality of indulging in sorcery. People scarce wish to know what we have to say, but would scorn us if we kept them ignorant."


    Coin frowned. Whatever Scylla had on her mind, it was making the rest of the party increasingly uneasy. Even Igrei seemed uncomfortable where he sat. "Must be grave. Please don''t keep us in suspense," he said.


    "A moment of privacy, please. Just in case anyone would try to listen in on us." Scylla lifted a finger, flashing her promethium ring. She drew a circle in the air and, in doing so, weaved a thin circle of smoking shadows around their table. It curled and flickered, barely perceivable against the wood. By the time it was finished, the sound of the other patrons grew distant and muffled, as if a wall was dividing them from the rest of the inn.


    "A muffling ward," Igrei noted. Seeing the confusion among the others, the elf elaborated. "It''s a veil of darkness that absorbs sound from both sides. People can''t hear us, we can''t hear them. And nobody knows it''s there, unless they know what to look for. So, shadow magic is your specialty?"


    Scylla smiled knowingly. "I''ve had a lot of time to explore many fields," she simply said. "But I''m not here to talk about my magical potential. I''m here to talk about hers."


    All eyes followed the path of Scylla''s gaze. She was looking directly at Essine.


    "Th-this one?!" the kobold balked. "Y-you must be mistaken, koboldkin and magic do not... th-they do not-"


    "Kobolds with the potential are rare. Or, so it appears. Likely many kobolds die young, before becoming aware of what they can do." Scylla sighed and shook her head. "But kobold wizards do exist. Being frank, any intelligent creature has the capacity to draw power from Promethia, so long as their soul has the right alignment for it. Even goblins can use the power... though most juvenile goblin wizards blow themselves to smithereens."


    She sighed and sank in her chair, which creaked faintly at her movements. "But that is neither here nor there. In your case, Essine, the power you have is something unconventional."


    Pearl raised a hand. "Er... how do you know so much about all of this?"


    "I''ll drop all pretence and say that I have been observing you all from afar for a while now. Well... Him, specifically," Scylla said, motioning to Coin.


    The mimic blinked in confusion a few times. "M-me? Why?"


    "You interest me, simply put. From the moment we met, as it happens. I make a habit of observing things that interest me. Because if something can actually interest me, and that is rare... it''s something worth keeping an eye on. Something that could be troublesome if not watched over."


    Coin swallowed hard. "I''m not sure I follow."


    "Oh, don''t worry. I don''t think there''s anything monstrous about you. In fact, you can stick your chest out with pride." A shiver ran down the length of his body. "In my curiosity, I fashioned a bird to follow you from afar." She raised a hand as she spoke, a length of shadow smoking on her palm to create a silhouette of a wren.


    "That''s... a rather sharp invasion of privacy," Elijah said, rumpling his brow.


    The witch chuckled. "I kept him far enough away to not see anything intimate. You needn''t worry. I have some respect for your privacy, contrary to what you may believe about me." She fell silent, letting the group take a few sips of cider. "I paid it little mind, until I saw what happened in the cursed land of Charnyll. Where your furry friend tapped into a power that really ruffled my bird''s feathers. A power so distinct that it stood out like a beacon."


    Essine sank more and more into her chair, and looked as if she wanted the world to swallow her whole to save her any embarrassment or scrutiny. Unfortunately the world often does the exact opposite of whatever a person wants of it.


    "It was a fluke, we learned that much in the aftermath. Something born of a strange confluence of events that could likely never be replicated precisely," Igrei said. He folded his arms and sank back, a troubled look crossing his face.


    "It would be nice to believe that, wouldn''t it?" Scylla replied, offering him a playful smile. The elf bristled in response, shooting her an annoyed look.


    "This one... tried to do the magic again. Just to see if it would work. It did not." Her voice was a low mumble, and her ears had flattened from a poorly disguised sense of terror.


    "Nor could we sense any lingering trace of magic in her," Igrei added, his eyes darting to his staff.


    Elijah and Pearl were leaning in closer, enraptured and fascinated by the discussion. Coin remained rigid where he sat, his brow furrowed with concern. Whatever Scylla had to say, he had no doubt it would lead to trouble down the line.


    "You attempted to sense magic in her in the conventional way. Which is to say magic drawn into her body through Promethia. You are right in saying this did not detect anything. But Essine''s power is not born from Promethia."


    Scylla leaned forward, a strange glimmer shining in her eye. "Let me tell you about the plane known as Sheol."

 Chapter 63 - To Touch Sheol

    "The cosmos is vast and unknowable in its immensity. Countless, innumerable planes stretching off unto infinity. Even the most seasoned witches and wizards would not risk venturing too deep into foreign planes," Scylla explained, watching the group with her strange and inscrutable gaze.


    "Our plane, Adja, sits bordered by two planes. There is Promethia, an infinite and chaotic plane brimming with power and strange entities. It is regarded as the source of magic, and could be seen as a moon locked in orbit with Adja. The other, more infamous is the land known as the Bleak. I''m sure I do not need to detail it too much for you. An accursed plane, infested with demons and wicked beings. Think of it as a shadow to our plane."


    Igrei regarded her warily, tapping his fingers against the edge of his tankard. "And Sheol? What do you make of it? I''ve studied the Bleak rather thoroughly, and have only seen that term used a handful of times."


    "Indeed. It''s an element that people know very little of. Demons and their ilk don''t particularly like to divulge information on their world," Scylla said. "But I shall describe it simply. If the Bleak is the shadow to our plane, what is the shadow to Promethia?"


    "Ah. A plane that they use to draw in magic," Pearl said, nodding. Then, realising the implications of what she had just said, she paled and darted her eyes to Essine. "So, she has... demon magic?"


    "Very powerful demon magic," Coin said. Iago had been a sturdy beast, weathering the storm Coin had unleashed. The glow from Essine''s hands had withered him worse than a flower left wilting in the desert sun.


    Essine''s eyes widened, her mouth agape. "Th-this one does not want to be tied to evil power!"


    "Magic is not inherently good or evil. It is how it is used that determines whether is wicked or not. Is fire good or evil? No. It is the human hand that decides if the flame will be used to make bread, or burn a heretic at the stake." Scylla raised a hand as she spoke, a rippling shadow shaped like a flame forming on her palm. "The power is a part of you. How you use it is what will define you. But you strike me as a kind, well-meaning sort."


    Essine frowned and turned her gaze to the table. She''d barely touched her drink, and that didn''t seem like it was about to change. "How did this even happen?" she murmured.


    "I can only assume, from what my spy witnessed in his fluttering and peeping. But if you were possessed by a phantasm, your soul was briefly entwined with those of a Bleak native. In doing so, he left an opening of sorts through which Sheol could be channelled into your body. This was, of course, unintentional. A side effect of his attempt on your life," she explained.


    Coin thought back to that incident, the strange symbols that had glowed upon her fur. Magic born from Sheol, even at a glance, had an eerie quality to it.


    Scylla carried on speaking, heedless of Coin''s uncertain scowl. "If Promethia is a wild and chaotic plane, then Sheol is a quiet, cold, and dark place. Near equal in vastness, but so polar opposite in composition. Sheol is a plane of cold and crushing entropy, and magic born from that plane is similarly deadly. Blight that can kill most anything it is exposed to. I tell you this both for the safety of those around you, and for your own safety. Because in drawing power from Sheol, you may harm yourself too from the exposure."


    Essine swallowed hard. She scratched at her arm uneasily, and even Pearl''s hand on her shoulder did little to quell her nerves.


    "This one... does not want this burden," Essine murmured.


    "As many have said, when they learn of their own potential. Alas, responsibility is often thrust upon us rather than actively sought. This magic is a part of you, Essine," Scylla said.


    Elijah managed a smile and leaned forward. "We don''t think any different of you, lass. We''re already an odd bunch, this doesn''t change anything between us," he said.


    Igrei had fallen silent throughout Scylla''s explanation, his gaze fixed firmly on her. "How do you know so much about such an obscure subject?" he eventually asked.


    The witch smiled. "I''ve had a long time to explore a myriad of obscure topics pertaining to the occult. And while many are ignorant to Sheol, and the deeper workings of the Bleak, there was indeed one culture who explored this plane in ancient times. I''m sure you are familiar with Elbrinth."


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    Coin furrowed his brow. "Elbrinth," he murmured. The word sounded familiar, even if it was a bit like the noise a human would make while sneezing. He perked up and glanced toward Elijah. "Oh! You mentioned a contract about Elbrinth before we settled on going for Lady Greatglow''s delivery job."


    Elijah''s expression had grown grim. "I did," he admitted. "It''s a place that makes Charnyll look like a flower meadow full of beautiful naked women," he added.


    Coin assumed that was meant to be nice by human standards. But he was certain the hypothetical women would be uncomfortable, exposed to the elements, bug bites, and getting grass stains everywhere.


    "An underground city. Well, city is perhaps an understatement. It''s massive, spanning such a distance that nobody has ever accurately mapped it. To say nothing for how the interior is said to shift of its own accord," Igrei elaborated. "And those who built it vanished off the face of the planet centuries ago. A cursed, grim place."


    "Indeed. But they understood magic in a way quite unlike our modern society, And all signs indicate that they studied Sheol, and the blight that shines from that cursed realm." Scylla trailed off and reached into her left sleeve. "But that is unimportant for now. I am here to talk about the practicalities of Sheol''s magic, not ancient history."


    Essine looked up from the table, sporting an expression like a condemned criminal peering through the ring of a hangman''s noose. Knowing that her soul had become an entryway to an accursed and entropic dimension, and that this power could potentially kill her, did not put her at ease.


    She swallowed harshly. "This one... this one does not know what to say."


    "It is daunting, I know. But you need to be willing to embrace your own power, lest it be the undoing of yourself or anyone you''re close to." She pulled out a small bangle, forged from a dark grey metal mottled with red and orange streaks. "Magic from Promethia is channelled via meteorite metal, which falls from the stars. And magic from Sheol, conversely, is controlled from metals pulled from the very bowels of the world."


    She tossed it toward Essine, where it softly clattered to a halt. "Erebite, extraordinarily rare but seen as near worthless when compared to promethium. Take care of it. Use it only if you need it."


    Essine took the bangle in her trembling hands. She nodded and mumbled her thanks, tucking it into a small pouch on her belt.


    "How in the world do you have something like that?" Igrei muttered. The more he looked at Scylla, the more uncomfortable he became.


    The witch ignored him as she rose to her feet, while the sound of the inn slowly filtered back into the room. "Well, I should be on my way. I only wanted to approach and provide Essine a little bit of necessary guidance. But, for now, I''ll leave you all to your own devices."


    "Thank you, Scylla. But, er, would you mind not spying on us going forward?" Coin asked, moving to stand.


    Scylla offered him a cryptic smile. "Forgive me. I can be as sneaky as a mimic at times." A shiver raced down his spine.


    He stood back to watch her go, and resisted the urge to follow after him. As much as he wanted to know how she had gotten from Wheat Valley to here of all places. But, for now, helping Essine was of a higher priority.


    He downed the last dregs of his cider, which had grown warm and unpleasant, and held a hand out to Essine. "C''mon then. You''ve been through a lot, let''s get you to bed."


    "Yes, just what the lass needs," Elijah said, smiling at him.


    Essine rose, resting her modest weight against his side. "This one thanks you, Coin."


    It was as the group made for the stairs, letting Elijah take the lead to show them what rooms they had been given. After hearing what Scylla had to say, just about everyone felt tired.


    But, in navigating the floor, a broadly built man knocked Coin''s elbow in passing. The mimic jerked, pulling Essine closer to keep her from falling over.


    He turned to glare at the man, who still had a froth of beer staining the dark brown follicles of his beard. "You," Coin growled. "Apologise."


    "Piss off, rat lover," the burly man said, resting a hand on the well-worn grip of the cleaver on his belt. His face was beet red, a bleariness in his eyes. However much he had drank before, it was clearly too much for his body to handle.


    "C-Coin, it is fine," Essine said, raising a hand and trying to ease his anger. It wasn''t working.


    His gaze was focused firmly on the drunkard. "Apologise," he repeated, speaking with a voice firmer than solid steel.


    The stranger gripped his cleaver tighter. "You want me to split yer damn head open?" he growled.


    "Borric!" Andea shouted from behind the bar. She fixed him with a stern glare. And such a look, from a trained housewife, was as dangerous as a sword in the hands of a master swordsman.


    The stranger, Borric, wilted away from her glare. "Fine, fine," he muttered, stalking off back toward the hearth.


    That night, Coin could not sleep. Even as the others slumbered in their attic room, the only thing they had access to on such short notice. And so, as the night bore on, Coin went outside to stretch his legs.


    He found Borric outside, relieving himself against the back wall of the inn.


    Once again he demanded an apology for his earlier crassness, and was met with more cursing and aggression from the drunkard.


    Again, Coin grew insistent on the matter. He had decided that he would not sit back and allow people to mistreat Essine, or her kin, for what they were. He was met by the man drawing his cleaver and swinging it at him in a drunken fury.


    And Borric, in turn, was greeted by an angry wall of flesh and teeth that swallowed him whole before he could do much as scream.


    An unpleasant snack was a snack all the same.

 Chapter 64 - Elijahs Stately Manor

    The rest of the ride back toward Sentinel over the next few days was shockingly peaceful. They encountered no criminals, highwaymen, killers, robbers, deranged maniacs, or assorted ne''er-do-wells on the roads. And once they were close enough that the outline of the city became visible on the horizon, they seemed to believe they were fully safe. After all, by that point, they could see roaming patrols of armed guards flying Arcadian pennants that fluttered in the breeze.


    They reached the outer stables, at which point there was a bit of awkwardness among the group. It was, after all, a parting of the ways for some of them.


    "Well," Igrei said, offering a polite bow to each member of the group in turn. "It was lovely to meet all of you. I just wish it had been under kinder circumstances. I shall wish you well on your journey and, should fate will it, we shall meet again under kind stars."


    Elijah gave the elf a curious look. "You sure you don''t wish to stay on with us? A lad of your skill, you would be fine security to have. I could even pay you."


    Igrei smiled. "Thank you, Ser DiVenture, but no. I am here on clan business. And so long as there are mysteries of the Bleak to unfurl, that is the path I must walk."


    "Take care of yourself, then," Coin replied. "You''ve a damn dangerous job." He supposed someone had to do it, but he was pleased to know it wasn''t his job specifically.


    "Ha. That phantasm was something of an outlier. But I shall be alright. Good luck, Coin. And don''t stop practicing your magic." He turned to Pearl and bowed. "Lady Pearl. May your beauty shine eternal."


    The bard smiled and chuckled. "My... and here I was thinking of all elves as being as frigid as Thalborea."


    Lastly his eyes fell on Essine, a sympathetic smile on his face. "Don''t let the witch''s ominous words worry you too much, Essine. Whatever may have happened, you are still yourself. And always shall be."


    The kobold managed a tiny smile. A rare sight of late. "This one thanks you, Igrei. This strange curse... it is a worrying thing to be burdened with. But this one shall be brave."


    "Glad to hear it," Igrei said, smiling warmly. "Well then... Farewell, until we meet again!" Coin stood back to watch the elf go. Soon he had merged into the crowd filtering into Sentinel, distinguished only by the protruding point of his staff. But soon that too vanished once Igrei had gone far enough.


    Pearl sighed. "I suppose I too should be on my way too. And my thanks for guiding me back to Sentinel. Even if we took a scenic path to get here."


    "Ah, well, no trouble at all!" Elijah assured her, managing a small laugh.


    "Only, well, I don''t actually have anywhere else to go. And I suppose I could take up work at the local taverns. But... Oh I don''t know. Maybe I''m insane, but I''ve actually come to enjoy the company of you lot." Her eyes darted briefly to Coin as she spoke.


    Coin supposed they were better travelling companions than the bandits who had locked her in the cage. Coin had not given them much thought since the night he rescued Pearl, but that was another issue to be wary about.


    Elijah had noticed Pearl''s unsubtle glance, which had flown directly over Coin''s shockingly dense head. He rolled his eyes. "Well, if you wish to be our travelling bard, you are welcome to. Someone to provide music while we camp, or earn an extra sum whenever we stop at inns or towns. I expect people travelling with me to earn their camp."


    "Wonderful, wonderful! Needn''t worry, a layabout bard is a harmful stereotype I don''t contribute to!" she explained, motioning to the lute slung upon her back.


    "Very well." Elijah turned to Coin. "I have a few errands to run. For one thing, I need to meet with Lady Greatglow to settle affairs. I sent a bird ahead to explain our delay but I doubt she''ll be thrilled at how long this has all taken. At least the paintings made it to their destination in one piece."


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    "Want me to come along?" the mimic asked.


    Elijah considered this, then grimaced. "Best not. I''d rather just the one of us weather a potential tongue lashing. Besides, I have a special assignment for you. Instead of staying at an inn, I think we should visit my home for a few days respite."


    "In... Hightown?" Coin asked.


    Essine froze, her ears perking up sharply. "Th-this one cannot! I-if anyone were to see this one-"


    Elijah gently took her hand. "I don''t care what anyone says, lass. And Coin won''t let anyone do anything to you." And, if worst came to worst, he''d throw his reputation and wealth around a bit to solve any potential issues.


    Laws, rules, and societal norms were very malleable when you were rich enough.


    "Right," Coin said, smiling at the kobold. And that seemed to be enough to put her mind at ease. "I can handle this, then. Just tell me where to go."


    "The third house on Nobby Avenue. It has ''DiVenture'' embossed on the nameplate on the wall. You remember the branching paths we passed the first time we came to Hightown? It''s the rightmost one," Elijah explained.


    "And... they know to expect us?" Coin asked. He''d rather not get turned away at the door.


    "I sent a message ahead, don''t worry. I''m not totally senseless yet." Elijah smiled and tapped his temple. "And come nightfall, we''ll deal with Valle."


    And so Coin led the way, with Essine and Pearl keeping a comfortable closeness to him. Sentinel was as busy now as it had been the last time Coin visited, the alleys and thoroughfares filled with a steady stream of people.


    Though he couldn''t help but notice how tense and uneasy some of the people he passed were, stealing uneasy glances at everyone around them.


    They made their way through Lowtown, moving at a speedy pace, but it wasn''t long until a shouting voice caught Coin''s ear and gave him pause.


    "The goblins are evolving! These malicious, wicked creatures are becoming smarter, arming themselves with weapons and organising into a veritable army!" The mimic froze and peered across the plaza, to where a man had positioned himself atop a stack of crates. He was a shabby fellow, wearing a soot-stained green cloak above moth-eaten clothing.


    Despite his ragged appearance, a crowd had gathered to listen intently to his preaching.


    "They prowl and skulk in the shadows of the countryside, but they grow emboldened by the day! Their attacks become more commonplace, more rampant, and slowly they are moving closer to the heart of Arcadia! To here! And yet our so-called Archchancellor does nothing! He ignores the problem, sequestered in his ivory tower! He-"


    A few screams filled the air as armoured guards pushed through the crowd. The preacher made no move to resist as he was pulled from his makeshift pulpit, and even seemed to smile as he was bundled away into a nearby alley.


    Pearl stared, dumbstruck. "You... mentioned goblins, didn''t you?" she asked, looking to Coin.


    He nodded stiffly, unblinking gaze affixed to the distant alley. When he looked closer, he could see the tattered remains of posters that had been forcibly torn from their moorings. One of them had just enough of the bottom in tact for Coin to read the words ''GOBLIN MENACE'' in faded red ink.


    Word was spreading about the threat they faced, at least.


    "Come on," he said, motioning for the others to follow his lead.


    He spied more remnants of torn posters throughout Lowtown, and even a few of them in the Merchant''s Quarter. But by the time they reached Hightown, there wasn''t a trace of any of the tension found in Lowtown.


    People bustled and went about their business, upper class toffs who rarely thought of any issues more complicated then what they wanted for dinner that night. Goblins pillaging the countryside? An issue for countryside folk to deal with. If the goblins reached Sentinel, then they were certain their wealth could let them survive any hardship.


    Eyes turned to Essine in passing, the presence of a kobold enough to snap them from their blissful ignorance. And a sharp gaze from Coin was enough to make them look away again.


    They did not understand what it was about Coin''s eyes that gave them such a sudden instinctual fear. Just some primal monkey reflex that told them they were making eye contact with a creature that could (and would if it needed to or simply felt like it) eat them whole.


    Their path brought them along an immaculately clean cobblestone road, lined on either side by red-leafed trees that were treated with greater care than the people of Lowtown. Eventually they reached the walls and looming steel gate of the third house, the plate sporting Elijah''s name just as he had said.


    A winding brick path, lined by flowery shrubs, led the way up to the house itself. Coin stared toward the structure, his mouth running dry. Four floors tall with starkly cleaned red brick walls, a sloping black ceiling and rows of gleaming windows. To the far right side of the house sat a separate structure, an observatory with a telescope protruding from an opening in the roof.


    There were other fine houses in Hightown, larger and grander in their opulence. But Elijah''s estate was tidier, finely built, and seemed more respectable in its subtle beauty.


    A rail-thin man stood behind the gate, watching them with a stony expression. A human, Coin reasoned, but the faint points to his ears made it clear he had some elf blood in him. He wore a finely tailored red jacket above a dark suit, and his raven hair was slicked back with a thick coating of pomade.


    "You are Master Coin, yes?" he asked, paying no mind to Pearl or Essine.


    "I am," Coin replied.


    The stranger nodded, in a gesture so subtle one could only notice it through a frame-by-frame analysis. "I am Domajor, the estate manager." He made a gesture, causing the gates to silently unlock and glide open. "Welcome, then, to Venture Manor."

 Chapter 65 - It Was Delicious

    "It has been some time since Ser graced us with a visit. It was quite a shock when his missive arrived via courier bird," Domajor said, leading them along the main hallway. The plush red rug muffled their footsteps. The paintings on the wall watched them in silence, as if judging them.


    Pearl gawked open-mouthed at their lush surroundings. "Elijah owns a mansion like this, and he spends that much time on the road instead?"


    "Ser is an... adventurer," Domajor replied, enunciating the word ''adventurer'' with the same inflection one would use for a word like ''gonorrhoea.'' "He prefers the road to the comforts of his bed here. Still, I work well to run a tight ship in the event of his return."


    It was certainly not an understatement. Every surface in the manor was spick and span, tended with great care. Venture Manor was a place that dust feared and dreaded to even think of, and dust bunnies had been ruthlessly hunted to extinction.


    As they went along, they passed an assortment of young maids in finely tailored black dresses. They curtsied to the guests in passing, bowing to a degree that could not have been physically comfortable.


    Their eyes would lock onto Coin in passing, flooded with a strong sense of longing. And then the maids would scurry back to their duties the second Domajor set his sights on them.


    An annoyed sigh rose in his throat.


    "Ser," he murmured to Coin, barely audible. "It is not my place to say what Ser DiVenture''s apprentice should do. But the maids here are all very well trained, and it would be a travesty to have to retrain replacements if any of them were to suddenly be taken away by matters of maternity. If you take my meaning."


    Coin stared at him with a blank, uncomprehending stare. "Uh-huh," he eventually replied, not sure of what else to say.


    Domajor gave him a faint frown, and inwardly wondered what cabbage patch Elijah had fished this young man out of. They reached the rear of the house, where the corridor diverged in two directions.


    "Lady Pearl, Lady Essine, you will find your rooms just here. Guest rooms that have been kept in pristine condition. Should you need anything, the maids shall oblige without complaint."


    "Oblige... this one?" Essine asked in disbelief.


    Domajor nodded. "When you are under this roof, within these walls, it does not matter what race you are. You are a guest of Ser DiVenture, and that makes you almost regal."


    "Well, finally I get the treatment I deserve." Pearl excitedly rubbed her hands together. "Now I just need a maid to run a bath for me, and I''ll be right as rain!"


    Domajor led Coin in the opposite direction, toward a small staircase that led to the second floor. "As you are Ser DiVenture''s apprentice, you will be given a larger room. And, as with your companions, you need only ask if you need anything."


    Coin nodded absentmindedly, much of his attention fixated on a golden wall clock just ahead of him. He thought he had overcome his base instincts entirely. But a part of him so dearly wanted to open wide and swallow the clock whole.


    He opened the varnished redwood door and stood aside so Coin could enter. The room was massive, big enough that he could fit his inn room from Grafia inside more than three times over with room to spare. The bed at the far side of the room looked dangerously comfortable. The sort that, if someone were to sleep upon it, would ensnare them in an unbreakable slumber.


    His gaze roamed across the other furnishings, wardrobes and cabinets that had been created by master carpenters and painted to perfection. The walls were a warm burgundy shade, a contrast to the white that dominated the walls in the corridors.


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    "If there is nothing else, Master Coin, I should be on my way. I have many other duties to attend to."


    "Ah, r-right," Coin replied. The scale of everything had left him rather overwhelmed. A vision of Elijah''s vault flashed in his mind. He still found it hard to believe Elijah chose to live the way that he did. "Thank you, Domajor." The butler left and closed behind him.


    Left to his own devices, Coin explored the expansive room. He opened a wardrobe, partially to sate his own curiosity, and was shocked to see a series of coats similar to his green longcoat hanging inside. A note was pinned to the door.


    ''Old Elijah asked for a few spares to be sent this way after your last visit. Enjoy!


    -Guildencrantz.''


    Coin smiled despite himself. So, Elijah had expected on him to visit here at some point? The thought warmed his heart. Or whatever passed for one in Coin''s chest.


    When he checked the drawers near the bed, he found more shirts and slacks tailored to his size within. And, ultimately, he saw no harm in changing his current clothing for a new set.


    He did not need to clean himself with the same regularity of a human. But he would see about getting a bath drawn later, just to keep up appearances.


    It was as he was adjusting the sleeves of his new shirt, forgoing donning a coat for now, that a gentle knock rapped upon his door.


    "Ser? Are you decent?" It wasn''t Domajor''s leaden voice.


    "Ah. I am, yes," Coin replied, fixing his starched collar.


    The elf who entered was dressed near-identical to Domajor, right down to the tall socks that linked to his knee-length britches. But he was markedly shorter, however. His skin was a sandy hue of brown, and he so slim of build and with such a soft face that he could have easily have passed for a woman. His golden hair framed the sides of his face in ringlets, the majority of it tied back in a bun.


    But when he spoke, there was a clear masculine note to his voice. "A pleasure to meet with you. I am Leonid, Master Domajor''s apprentice."


    Coin regarded Leonid quietly for several moments. It was hard to tell how old the beautiful elf was, a common trait among most elves. He could have been anywhere between 20 and 80. And though he was a few inches taller than the elf, the difference in height did little to dissuade Leonid''s confident posture.


    "I wouldn''t have thought a man in his position would have an apprentice," he admitted.


    "Master Domajor is a busy man, so he is happy to have help where he can get it. And, ultimately, he does not plan on keeping this position indefinitely," Leonid explained, maintaining a calm and polite smile throughout. "And, as we are both apprentices, Master Domajor asked me to personally see to your needs while you are here."


    The idea of having servants, to Coin, remained an odd human invention that he did not quite understand. Well he supposed it made sense for humans to want to have an underling to handle all their duties for them, but it was hard to imagine a human wanting to take on that servile position willingly.


    Even if money was that tempting, why were people willing to take on such a burden?


    Human society was such a strange thing. So much of it was something he felt he could only ever touch at the tip of the iceberg when he tried to comprehend it. But so long as he could act the part, that would suffice.


    "Well... er..." he rubbed slowly at the back of his neck. "If you insist. I don''t mind."


    "Wonderful. Please, allow me to welcome you properly." The slim elf ventured outside the door briefly before wheeling in a cart. A silver carafe stood atop the cart, flanked by a large white cup. Steam hissed from the lip of the carafe, filling the air with a sweet scent. Slowly, with practiced elegance, Leonid tipped a dark brown liquid into the cup.


    For a moment, Coin briefly feared he was being gifted a cup of coffee. The thought alone made his skin squirm beneath his clothing, vividly recalling the foul taste of his first coffee. But the scent was entirely different, much milder and sweeter.


    "In the far southlands, in the warm climates of Onskara, they grow a plant called cacao. The Onskarians have found a myriad of ways to use the by-products of this plant, often for sweet confections. Most beloved by Ser DiVenture is a drink known as hot chocolate."


    Leonid stepped back, allowing Coin to lift the cup to his lips. He blew on it a few times, trying to drive some of the steaming heat away.


    "Smells rather sweet," Coin murmured.


    "Tastes even sweeter, I assure you," Leonid said, beaming. "Ser was quite a fan when he first sampled for himself. And though it is rather expensive to have it imported, even through a mediator in Kaghyria, he has seen to having a preserved stockpile in our cellar."


    Coin took a sip. In an instant his mouth was flooded with a strong, creamy and sugary scent that sent a shudder racing down the length of his body. It was... it was delicious!


    "This is delicious!" Coin exclaimed, briefly mentally attuned to the narrator in a stroke of cosmic coincidence.


    A bright smile lingered on Leonid''s face. "I''m glad you are a fan, Ser Thaeka," he said, guiding a lock of hair behind his right ear.


    Coin drank slowly, occasionally darting his gaze to meet Leonid''s. He cleared his throat and licked his lips clean. "Well, er, this is a very nice welcome. Do you usually have guests?"


    "Very rarely. Ser does not come home often, and does not host many functions or guests as a result. But Master Domajor is an astute teacher, and has taught me the art of treating guests with care."


    "Well," Coin peered into his cup, and then to the carafe likely containing a much greater quantity of hot chocolate. Again his resolve and urges were tempted, a strong desire to slurp the whole thing in one go flooding his mind. "I''d say you''re doing a great job."


    "My thanks, Ser Thaeka," the elf replied. "Dinner shall be served within the next two hours, signalled by the bell down the hall. Ideally, Ser DiVenture will be home by then."

 Chapter 66 - Serving Penal Labour

    It was late in the afternoon when Illyana was brought to meet with Archchancellor Velasco in the upper reaches of the Obelisk. She was flanked by a pair of pikemen, adorned in finely tailored black surcoats. They had made no move to bind her wrists, or arrest her in any formal capacity.


    But their stern, steely eyes left her under no illusions. Should she resist, or make things difficult for her overseers, then she would suffer a rather grim accident.


    Tripping and falling with a pike accidentally lodged in her spine. The leading cause of death in palaces all over the world.


    Not that she was worried. This was what she had wanted, after all. To finally be noticed by the man himself.


    Still, inwardly, she had to wonder what she had just gotten herself into. She had never seen Velasco in person, and few people actually had. Everything she knew about the man she knew from hearsay in the street, with such tales being inconsistent at best.


    To hear those tales, Velasco was either a demon from the Bleak in living flesh who could scorch a man to ash with a single thought, or a snivelling shaved kobold who had weaselled his way into power with backstabbing and lies. The truth was probably somewhere in the middle, she reasoned.


    Her guards came to a halt at the sight of a massive red door, nearly twice as tall as Illyana herself. In the past it had been the solar of the Arcadian royal family, a chamber for private meditation (whoring, drinking, and general hedonism). Now it was Velasco''s private office.


    The throne room, somewhere on the ground floor, was blocked off and gathering dust. Supposedly, Velasco had never so much as sat upon it.


    The guard to her right pushed the door open and stepped aside to let her enter. His face was concealed by the steel plate of his helm, but his eyes gave an unspoken command for her to go through. Illyana did so without a word, smoothing a crease from her ruffled red blouse as she went.


    Archchancellor Velasco, as it turned out, was a man. A rather slim man, his skinny build disguised by an austere black and silver robe, with a gaunt face and beak-like nose. A red chaperon rested upon his otherwise bald head. His face was utterly unremarkable save for one detail: A glint of lime and silver that shone in his left pupil. The right was a dull shade of brown. He sat at his desk, slowly slicing strips from a steaming pheasant on his plate. He didn''t look up, even as the door was closed.


    Illyana drew closer.


    "You know," he said, still focused on his meal. Illyana halted in place. "I am told that the gnomes of Glorydale have a saying: The rambunctious bee gets the hive destroyed. An unwieldy saying, gnomes are better at tending flowers than they are writing witticisms. But they have a point. It''s always the individual whipping up panic that gets everyone else hurt, Lady Illyana." He skewered a piece of meat on his fork and deftly ate it.


    Illyana narrowed her eyes at him. "Better that than to leave people shrouded in ignorance. If they are at threat, they have a right to know. People aren''t stupid-"


    "People are stupid," he bluntly told her. "Individuals can be clever, terrifyingly clever at times, but when they group together they regress back into a herd of angry, fearful, paranoid apes. They follow the crowd, letting the mob around them whip them into a frenzy, forgoing logic and individuality so they do not stick out from the group. And it is always the loudest, stupidest members of the crowd who were never constrained by logic in the first place, who dictate the flow of events."


    Illyana watched him warily. She didn''t doubt he had plenty of experience when it came to mobs. And yet he had managed to get to the top of the pile after the chaos, despite his connections to the reviled royal family.


    She knew him to be a cunning man, even if his actions bewildered her.


    "You know about the goblin menace, I trust."


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    He scoffed, downing another mouthful of meat. "Lady Illyana, there is little that happens in this kingdom that I don''t know about. Of course I know the horror stories cropping up in the countryside. But I am not being bone idle on the matter."


    "But every time I try to raise the issue-"


    He silenced her with a hard look. "Because the more people know about this matter, the more of a frenzy it will kick off. What will knowledge do for them, beyond making them panic? We are harangued with cries for action, demands for something to be done, while the tension leads to fighting and theft while fear and paranoia overwhelms them."


    "Where I come from, our leaders are forthright with existential threats," Illyana replied in a low voice. "And I wouldn''t have had to do any of this if you simply met with me, instead of shuffling me to a dozen different workers."


    "If I agreed to meet with each and every loon that turns up at the palace, I''d never know a moment of respite."


    They stood in silence for some time as Velasco ate. For a man who was a king in all but name, his meal was scarcely better than what one could get from a pub in the Merchant''s Quarter. His robe, admittedly finely tailored, sported no flairs or flourishes to give the impression of wealth. Save for a pair of plain rings on his right hand, he wore no jewellery.


    She thought back on Thalborea, on the wealthy lords and aristocrats she had known and rubbed elbows with. Hard to believe a man so plain towered over their ilk in importance.


    Once he finished, Velasco set his knife and fork aside before steepling his pale fingers. "When the revolution broke out, I was away from the capital at the time. Busy meeting with a diplomat from the Skale Isles. I took my eye off Sirian for but a few days, and that stupid, odious, inbred little creep managed to ruin-" He trailed off.


    Velasco''s face, up until now, had been like a mask of chiselled stone. But a brief flash of anger had flashed across his face, traces of purple colouring his brow. He gently cleared his throat.


    "I am not sure if you were around at the time, but it had been a harsh year. A poor harvest across a swathe of Arcadia, coupled with a plague stewing in Sentinel. Tensions rose, and an angry mob had formed at the palace, demanding food and aid. Ordinarily I would be the one to resolve such situations peacefully. Sirian, instead, dealt with the problem."


    A grim frown settled on her face. "The hanging tree," she said. She had only heard tales of it, described by weathered old men who looked as if the world would collapse beneath their feet when they told the tale.


    The chopped remains of a truly massive tree stood in the outer courtyard of the Obelisk, surrounded by a ring of carved stones. At its peak, with a veritable sea of dense wooden branches, it could have hung the corpses of fifty men without issue.


    And had been used to do so.


    "Being frank, displays of brutality can only do so much to quell a populace. And Sirian had done his share in the past, often when I wasn''t around to curb the worst impulses of his disgusting reptile brain. And this time it was not enough to calm the citizens of Sentinel. No, they were angrier than ever now."


    Slowly he rose to his feet. Despite his age, which Illyana surmised was ancient by human standards, there was no stoop in his posture. He stood like a man who had had his spine surgically replaced with a steel pipe.


    "It was difficult to get back into Sentinel when the chaos started. Angry mobs, stoked by those who had been fermenting rebellious thoughts for a long time, kickstarted violent riots in the street. Even the Brotherhood did not expect it when members of the city guard, and crown soldiers turned traitor and joined these revolutionaries. Even they had had enough."


    "Yes... I hear it was a bit of a bloodbath," Illyana murmured.


    "Well, eventually, I managed to get into Sentinel through some of the more obscure entryways known only to the upper echelons of Sentinel." He sauntered across the marble floor to the hearth. The dry logs inside caught alight at a simple gesture from Velasco, as if he had simply willed them to catch fire. "I avoided the worst violence on the streets, but I certainly saw a fair bit of it with my own eyes. All the anger, resentment and bitterness that had been festering for years. Things could not go back to being what they once were, I understood that much at once."


    He turned toward her, managing some semblance of a smile. It was the kind of smile one would see from Velasco as the executioner was preparing the guillotine. "I used one of the obscure entrances into the palace and found my way to the throne room via a hidden passage, just as a vanguard of revolutionaries were in a standoff with the last loyal king''s guard. It was inevitable that as soon as fighting broke out, the revolutionaries would eventually win. The fellows leading the charge were good at killing, good at leading the mob. But could they rule a nation? Oh no, surely not. And so I decided I would manoeuvre myself into a position to be the head of the host." He raised his right hand, and tucked his left behind his back. "I slew Sirian with my own magic, before their very eyes."


    Illyana watched him warily. Exactly what had happened in the throne room was surrounded by a myriad of rumours and tall tales, and it was hard to say if there was any truth to any of them. And, in truth, even she wasn''t sure if Velasco was being entirely truthful.


    "It took a good deal of finagling, and promises, and honeyed words to get those revolutionaries to trust me. But I have always considered myself at negotiations. And in truth, none of those fools wanted to actually rule when I explained the many responsibilities the throne would foist upon them. And so long as I didn''t call myself a king? They were fine with entrusting power to one man again."


    "Why tell me all this?" Illyana asked, folding her arms.


    "So that you understand something rather important. Contrary to what you may think of me, I love this nation. And I will go to great lengths to ensure that it survives. I am not ignoring our crisis, as you believe, and even have men actively investigating the matter." He turned, meeting her eyes, his own gaze colder than the grave. "But if you wish to help me deal with the goblin situation, you are more than welcome to put your blade to use."


    "Archchancellor, are you asking for my services as a mercenary?"


    "Mercenary implies you are being paid, Lady Illyana. And you waived that right when you chose to become a public nuisance." He gave her a smile that filled her with more fear than any glare or snarl ever could. "This would be more akin to... penal labour."

 Chapter 67 - Hunting Down Valle

    Elijah was indeed home in time for dinner, and looked rather haggard in the aftermath of meeting with Lady Greatglow. She was glad the paintings had been delivered safe and sound to Gilly Froth, but she was still a woman who did not appreciate being kept in suspense. The long wait for their return had irritated her significantly.


    But, Elijah had said, that did not means he would never ask for their services again. They were, to use business terminology, on ''thin ice.'' Whatever that meant.


    The meal itself was a thing of beauty. A roast pig served with stuffing, a side order of mixed greens, and gravy so rich that Coin''s mouth would forevermore water whenever he thought of it. Even if it had been a long time since the servants had cooked a meal for their master, they had clearly not lost their touch.


    Pearl, having had a chance to properly wash up, looked rather radiant. Her ebony hair fell in lustrous ringlets down her shoulders with newfound radiance, and her road attire had been replaced with a silken white shirt with ruffled sleeves and a pleated black skirt. A gift that the servants had in reserve, only needing to hitch the hem a little bit to make it an ideal fit.


    Essine, similarly, had been washed and dressed for the evening. The whole affair had been a flustering ordeal for her. Kobolds had no notion of servants, or the idea of being able to give orders to others. Thus she had been too embarrassed and shy to turn the maids down as she was led through a rather extensive bath.


    But the end result left her fur a gleaming and silky shade of brown, which now carried a faint waft of lavender to it. It was hard to complain about that, Essine reasoned. Nor could she fault the emerald dress she had been given for the night, a gift of such beauty that it had nearly brought her to tears.


    Come the end of dinner, by which point sunlight filled the long dining hall as a steadily fading orange haze, Elijah sighed happily and sank back into his chair with his hands on his stomach.


    "I take it Ser enjoyed his dinner," Domajor said, standing ramrod straight at Elijah''s side. It was not a question. A true manservant down to the very marrow of his bones, Domjaor had no doubts in the capabilities in the cooks he had personally hired.


    "Oh yes Domajor, wonderful. I fear if I stayed around the house for too long, I''d fast grow fat and slothful," Elijah replied with a chuckle.


    Leonid, standing prim and silent by Coin''s side, deftly poured an extra glass of water for the mimic. Coin nodded his thanks and glanced to Elijah at the head of the table. "So, er, Valle?" he asked.


    Elijah considered the question for some time. "I plan on speaking to him in person. To give him a chance to get his affairs in order and flee Sentinel before going to the authorities."


    "You''re... giving him a chance to flee? After everything that''s happened?" Pearl asked, eyes wide in disbelief.


    The older man shrugged. "He was my friend, once. Saved me from a few nasty scrapes. Him working with such twisted people... I doubt he would do it unless he was forced to. I want to at least give him a chance to save himself."


    "You are kind, Elijah. But this sounds dangerous. You may make a target of yourself through your honesty," Essine said.


    "Perhaps. But I have my integrity when it comes to some things. And they''ll make a target of me, regardless, when I don''t hand the black powder over."


    "Should have just handed the casks back over, refused to take them back in Grafia," Pearl remarked.


    Elijah shook his head. "It would have been easy, were it so simple. But with people from the Brotherhood keeping an eye on us... we would have been in danger regardless."


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    "Well... we may be in danger now, you know. I assume you have security working here?" Pearl asked, furrowing her brow.


    But the old merchant merely waved her off. "If Coin isn''t around? Domajor can handle any threats."


    "The protection of this estate is one of my top priorities," Domajor replied.


    Coin stared at the estate manager for several moments, trying to sense any trace of magic from him. But if he had any magic potential, it didn''t radiate off of him with the same ease it did for Scylla and Igrei. Those two had enough magical power that Coin could feel it without actively trying to feel for it."


    Yet he sensed nothing unusual about the man. Still, Coin got the odd impression he was more than capable of protecting himself and others. A stern look alone would make even the most fearsome ruffian think twice about bothering him.


    Slowly, Elijah pushed himself to his feet and grunted as he did so. "Damnation, my knees are at me," he muttered, rubbing at his knee. "But, better get a move on. Sooner I get in touch with him, the sooner we can get the ball rolling on dealing with these bastards."


    Coin stood to join him. "Well, er, let''s get going in that case. I''ll watch your back."


    An irritable groan rose in Elijah''s throat. "Were we just dealing with Valle Irons, I''d say that was excessive. But considering who he has ties to? Doesn''t hurt to be cautious." Ideally they wouldn''t have to fend off another gaggle of maniacs on horseback again.


    But in a city laden with twisting alleys and deep shadows, the Brotherhood were quite adept at killing men without a trace.


    The two set off at a steady pace, while the fading sunlight was being replaced by the glow of oil lanterns on the cobblestone streets. Lamplighters, dressed in thick black coats, strode about lighting each lantern with clockwork efficiency.


    Few men took their jobs as seriously as the lamplighters brotherhood of Sentinel, who saw themselves as the vanguard against the deathly cold darkness of night.


    Most everyone else saw them as pillocks whenever they spoke like that.


    Coin was at least somewhat used to the other parts of the city like Lowtown and the Merchant''s Quarter, but the Spokes was rather new to him. And he would admit, even at a glance, it was markedly uglier than Lowtown.


    Piles of soot and ash filled the gutters of the streets, and the surrounding red brick buildings had been dyed black by years of smoke. Even now, hours after the last of the coals had been doused for the evening, a thick smell of burning fuel lingered in the air.


    To say nothing about the architecture.


    Lowtown was unappealing to the eye, and rather ramshackle to boot, but there was something to be said for how lived-in everything looked. A cosiness born from families and groups of people trying to live their lives as best they could.


    The little details and flourishes were nowhere to be found in the spokes, where everything had been built in a brutal, utilitarian style. Filth aside, the streets were narrow and choking, where the looming buildings and towers would work with the smoke to blot out all light in the daytime.


    Coin assumed no sane man would live here, but that was not entirely true. They passed the rear yard of one structure, the gates ajar to reveal rows of tents and cookfires beyond. Coin peered inside and was surprised to see many kobolds scattered about. They chat, ate whatever meagre stew was being cooked, and gathered around storytellers or musicians who busied themselves with makeshift pan flutes.


    They spoke in a low, muttering language that even Coin''s sharp ears could barely grasp. Yet, even from where he stood, he occasionally heard utterances of ''this one'' or ''that one'' among the younger kobolds.


    A few heads turned to regard the two men in the darkness, beady eyes and rodent muzzles twinged with uncertainty. "Some factory owners pay kobolds to work for them. It''s far from pleasant work, certainly not safe, and the pay is lousy. But kobolds will work for less than humans, and... nobody will stick up for them if they are mistreated."


    Coin frowned at Elijah''s explanation, and the old man hardly looked pleased by his own words. "They live... here?" Coin murmured. "In all this filth?"


    "They''re allowed to. Kobolds living even in Lowtown is rarity," Elijah said. "I know it''s not fair. It''s not right, and the kobolds deserve better. But folks like me, thinking the way I think, are a rare breed. Come on, we better keep moving."


    They pressed on. Coin briefly met eyes with a kobold boy in passing, who barely passed Coin''s knee in height. And in the back of his mind, a horrible thought bubbled uncertainly. That boy, and every kobold like him, could be killed in broad daylight with nobody around to care or act in his defence.


    "You sure he''ll still be here?" Coin asked.


    "Knowing Valle? Yes. He always was the sort to burn the midnight oil after hours, checking his books and... fretting over his debts." He frowned and shook his head. "He''s a sharp man, in many respects. But his vices... I don''t know. They haunt him like an evil spirit."


    Coin frowned. "If he''s working with a bunch of dangerous people? He''s doing that by choice. And I can''t say I feel bad for him if he gets in trouble." He scratched at his shoulder, a phantom pain of the emerald venom briefly throbbing through his veins.


    Valle had not personally stuck him with poisoned bolts, but his dishonesty had pushed the group into a very dangerous situation. Anger blossomed in the depths of Coin''s mind, a storm cloud on a distant horizon.


    "I know, lad, I know. It was a rather terrible situation to be put into but we can''t blame him too harshly for it," Elijah said. The two halted just outside a looming soot-caked structure. ''Valle Forge'' was printed above the two front doors in sculpted steel letters, glinting when the lantern light struck them.


    It seemed, at least, that the letters were cleaned regularly.


    "Right then," Elijah said, "let''s get to it."

 Chapter 68 - A Cornered Rat

    Coin stared at the two doors, shut tightly before them. "Are you sure it''s going to be open? I would have thought most people would lock up at night." He paused, thinking on this. "Oh, do you want me to just pull them off the hinges?"


    Elijah laughed nervously. "Let''s... save that as a last resort, lad." He approached the doors and gave them a few teasing pulls and pushes. They remained rigidly in place. "It''s as you said. But, fortunately, I think you have the means to get us true."


    Coin leaned closer as his mentor tapped the keyhole a few times. Coin peered at it, the gears in his head slowly turning. "You think I can use my shapeshifting to change a lock?" he asked in a low voice.


    "If you can mould your flesh to fit the tumblers? I don''t see why not."


    His mind briefly wandered back toward their trip to the bank, the idea that had sparked in his mind when he saw Fiodor''s vault. Making his flesh contort to a lock would be uncomfortable, but seemed entirely doable.


    He inched closer, allowing Elijah to block his body from sight, and pressed his index finger to the lock. The flesh of his finger suddenly oozed forward with a texture like melting candle wax, moving to fill the opening. Then gradually, he stiffened his warped finger until it was as sturdy as iron.


    Wincing, Coin rolled his wrist and unlocked it in a single fluid movement. The lock clacked noisily, before the twin doors were pulled open by both men. He pulled his finger free and flexed his digits a few times as his flesh realigned itself.


    "That really is an incredible ability," Elijah murmured. The more he saw of his apprentice, now knowing the truth about him, the more Elijah became aware of how dangerous a mimic could actually be.


    He had rarely given them much thought in the past. He''d rarely had cause to go poking around in old ruins and tombs, which mimics haunted like hungry ghosts. His more adventure-inclined friends, many of whom had died in wholly preventable adventure-related incidents, had referred to them as insidious and stealthy nuisances, natures way of weeding out rookie adventurers.


    Now, however, Elijah thought that mother nature had been incredibly generous when she didn''t make mimics smarter than the average wild animal.


    Elijah was a man who had picked up many odd tidbits and pieces of trivia along his travels, near as valuable to him as his ducats. He had heard that it was not known how old mimics could be. Those that lived for a long time tended to be quite good at avoiding detection.


    But the oldest mimic known to man, as one scholar had told him, was a taxidermized corpse currently on displayed in the Celestine Lodge in Thallborea. It, supposedly, was nearly two hundred years old, and shockingly massive in size. Elijah wondered, in a dreadful haze, what a beast like that could do if it had been granted knowledge like Coin had.


    He shelved his worries as best he could and led Coin deeper inside the factory. Coin was a good lad, he reminded himself. And he hoped it would stay that way.


    All was silent around them, save for the echoes of their footsteps. Everywhere they looked it was easy to see forges, racks of ominous tools, piles of coal, great anvils that had weathered many beatings, and the occasional ominous stain on the floor.


    Workplace safety was a foreign, bizarre notion in the Spokes.


    A staircase stood at the back of the vast factory floor, and they quickly ascended them to the next floor. Valle''s office was of a considerable size, with great windows that overlooked the factory floor. Even when they entered, they had been able to see flickers of distant lantern light through those same windows. But the angle had not allowed them to see the man himself.


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    It was only as they entered the large room that they finally glimpsed Valle. He stared at them, perched by the lantern on his desk. In the low light of the office, he looked like an absolute wreck. Gaunt, sunken eyes that had likely barely seen a wink of sleep over the past few days. His face was slick with sweat, his hair and beard a tangled mess.


    "E-Elijah," he murmured. Valle swallowed harshly. "I trust all went well with your journey."


    Elijah''s face shifted, becoming like a mask carved from wood. "No, Valle. All did not go well." He sighed, clasping his hands behind his back. "I had faith in you, Valle. Have had it for years, even when we were lads just starting out in the Mercantile Guild. Fun days, weren''t they? You, me, and Imelda Orchard. The ''three menaces'' as the old heads called us. Then your vices took hold, and your debts mounted. Yet for all the sneering and mocking people gave you behind your back, I always believed you could come out on top. And this... this is how you repay my faith. By striking deals with the Brotherhood."


    Valle paled. Impressive, for a man with a complexion that already made ivory look like charcoal. "I don''t... I don''t know what you''re talking about," Valle replied, in the tones of a man who knew exactly what he was taking about.


    The older man shook his head slowly. "I believed in you. And trusted you. And you used me as a pawn to supply some of the worst scum in the kingdom. I would have helped you with your debts, if you had but asked. Instead you allowed yourself to become a pawn to the Brotherhood."


    "You... you don''t know a damn thing!" he growled through clenched teeth.


    Coin took a step forward. He hadn''t so much as blinked since he laid eyes on the other man. Ordinarily he would not have thought of Valle as a threat. He was a small and unassuming man compared to the adventurers he''d torn apart in the past. But he saw the mania in Valle''s eyes and knew, instinctively, that he would do anything in the name of self preservation.


    A desperation that could make a man as dangerous as any wild beast.


    "You! You think you have any right to judge me?! You jumped up little prick!" Valle hissed, thrusting a finger forward. His fear had shifted into blistering anger, a fury being directed at anyone and anything that caught his eye. "You don''t know what it''s like! You don''t know hardship! You just stumbled through life, having success and luck heaped upon you like the Goddess herself was bending over backwards to aid you! What do you know of my struggles?! You damn-"


    "Valle!" Elijah snapped, so loud and forceful that it voice sounded like thunder in the vacant factory. Even Coin was shocked, jerking his head toward his mentor. "Stop flapping your gums, for goodness sake!"


    "I..." Valle looked like a kicked puppy, his anger melting away. "I''m... I''m sorry, Elijah. Please, forgive me. We... we''re friends, you know? I... did not wish for you to get hurt. I did not think you would be in any danger."


    Elijah sighed and closed his eyes. "I''m afraid... I will need to tell the authorities about this Valle. In two days time, I will go to the palace and tell them everything. I advise you to get your affair in order and leave Sentinel as quickly as possible."


    Valle took a nervous step back, his eyes darting all around the room and paying close attention to the shadows. "Elijah, you... you don''t want to do that. They... they''re dangerous people. They''ll kill you," he hissed.


    "I don''t care," Elijah bluntly replied.


    "Nor I," said Coin. Though, admittedly, the thought of a shot from a hand cannon hitting him again didn''t fill him with joy.


    "You shan''t be getting your black powder. Nor shall you be getting anything else from me, but this small bit of mercy. Don''t make this harder for yourself, Valle."


    The gaunt man winced and looked away from his former friend. "It''s too late," he whispered.


    Elijah narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"


    "She... they already have it, Elijah. I''m truly sorry."


    The rafters creaked above them, so silently that a normal human wouldn''t have heard a thing.


    Coin sprang into action, grabbing Elijah by the shoulders and pulling him aside. A figure shrouded in black crashed into the floor a split second later, driving two blades into the boards. A blow that would have skewered Elijah in an instant.


    In the darkness, the orange-hued hair of their attacker was unmistakable.


    Leona rose sharply to her feet, wrenching her blades from the floor with sprays of splinters. She sighed, cracking her neck lazily from side to side. "You really should have minded your own business."


    "You shouldn''t have dragged us into your business in the first place, lass!" Elijah shouted. Despite the danger she posed, and though he''d only barely avoided two blades in his ribs, he was remarkably devoid of fear.


    "Keep behind me," Coin warned. He knew first hand how dangerous Leona was. But now, at least, he wasn''t facing her in some cramped tunnel. He took a step forward, power pulsing through his body until a sphere of wind took shape in his right hand.


    Leona smiled. "Still a brave boy. I was impressed, seeing you in action against Fatty Broadfellow''s thugs. I think... you might even have a chance to kill me," she said, lifting her right sword and aiming the tip his way.


    Coin watched her, stone-faced. "You don''t want this fight," he warned. Inwardly, his mind was racing. Could he beat her? She was shockingly fast and strong, and the magic she used made her incredibly versatile. And though he was confident in his power, he had to wonder if he could take Leona on without Elijah getting hurt in the process.


    "Believe me." Leona grinned wolfishly. "I do."

 Chapter 69 - A Sudden Stab

    Leona moved with a quickness that put most men to shame, her blade whistling through the air in a beeline toward Coin''s neck. The mimic shoved Elijah in one direction and jumped in the opposite way, only barely avoiding the tip grazing his throat.


    Yet the assassin pressed the assault, one movement flowing into the other again and again. A missed slash with one blade was followed up by a narrowly-dodged stab with the other. Her cloak fanned and whirled behind her, the swaying fabric regularly blocking the faint light of the lantern.


    Valle saw an opportunity to flee and save his skin. Or perhaps he made the quite reasonable assumption that he did not want to be within a hundred meters of Leona with her blades drawn. Regardless he had hastily scrambled to his feet and made a beeline for the door.


    "Damnation!" Elijah cursed, running after his former friend.


    "E-Elijah, wait!"


    "Are you really in a position to get distracted by now?" Leona taunted. She vanished in a flash of silver light, appearing behind Coin a split second later with both of her blades raised.


    Coin snapped a hand back, every bit as quick as his opponent, firing a powerful pulse of wind. The gale launched Leona back, her body striking the far wall with enough force to splinter the wood. She grunted in pain, yet managed to keep a firm grip on her swords.


    For a moment he was briefly tempted to hit her with a direct bolt of lightning from his fingers. Even a killer as relentless as Leona wouldn''t survive that. Yet if he missed and set the wooden room alight, then the ensuing fire could turn the factory into a crematorium.


    Leona righted herself and lunged at him, still sporting an eager grin. Then, suddenly, she vanished and reappeared in a series of rapid teleportation bursts. His eyes tried to follow her path around the room, and she seemed to be making a zig-zag pattern as she closed the gap toward him. With every burst of teleportation, Coin dimly noted, her eyes twitched in a specific direction.


    Left, right, left, right- He raised a hand, preparing to strike when the assassin appeared at his left side.


    She jumped at his right side again.


    Coin''s eyes widened, and he tried to jump back. A fraction of an instant too late, as Leona''s left blade sliced into his cheek. His skin was far tougher than that of a normal human, he had rendered it denser than boiled leather as soon as he realised they were in danger. Yet, even so, her blade cut into him like soft cheese.


    Cackling, Leona appeared behind him and whipped a slash at his neck. Coin whirled around, the edge slicing open his sleeve and digging into his shoulder. Streaks of red stained the pale fabric of his shirt.


    "Death by a thousand cuts," Leona said, rushing him again.


    Power surged through Coin''s entire body, rapidly gathering on the outermost layer of his flesh. before pulsing outward A wave of thunder slammed into Leona like a brick wall, shunting her away and letting out a violent roar that shook the factory down to its very foundations.


    Coin huffed, rounding on the assassin as she stumbled to her feet with blood dripping from a split in her lip. He couldn''t rely solely on his magic, he knew. All those quiet moments spent studying magic, and those occasional fights where he''d had to draw upon it, had not given him enough stamina to waste on such a slippery opponent. Every missed spell would just slow him down more and more.


    But if they were in a fight to the death, and nobody else was around to see him... why should he bother hiding the full arsenal of his abilities?


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    His left hand shot outward, the biomass in his forearm shifting and elongating outward like an unfurling whip. His limb extended outward faster than a crossbow bolt, skin toughening as sharpened growths of bone sprouted from the edge of his hand.


    Leona, her eyes wider than dinner plates, side stepped the blow. Coin''s makeshift flail struck the floor, splitting several floorboards on impact. Silence briefly lingered between the two. "It''s... you," she murmured in disbelief. "You''re the mimic."


    "Yep," Coin hissed. "I''m the mimic."


    He whipped his arm toward her, the sharpened teeth grazing Leona''s shoulders as she stepped back. Her sleeve was torn asunder, her skin splitting against the angled bones, but he was just shy of hooking her flesh directly. His arm flailed toward a pair of cabinets on the far side of the room, shattering them apart.


    "I didn''t think I''d ever meet you again," she admitted, her breath emerging in pale cloudy huffs. "I already went and stole that black powder right from your very wagon, almost as soon as you left your wagon behind. Thought that would be the end of things. Yet here you are, poking your noses in!"


    He lashed his arm at her again and again, each swing destroying a swathe of the floor. But, every time, Leona either flipped over his elongated arm or teleported out of his grasp. "So that''s it, is it? Suppose I should have expected you to be a sneaking thief!"


    "Don''t be bitter. It''ll spoil that handsome face of yours."


    She jumped over Coin''s arm and sliced clean through it in passing. Blood spurted from the shorn flesh, a pained cry rising in Coin''s throat. The whip wove itself back together with sinews of meat, more of Coin''s biomass being directed toward mending his wounds.


    A strong gust of wind slammed into Leona''s ribs just as she landed, bowling her over and knocking her sword from her left hand. She landed in a crouch and reached into her cloak. Something silvery flickered in the darkness by her hand.


    A dagger flew through the air a split second later, flung with ferocious force. The serrated edge carved the side of Coin''s neck, unleashing a fresh spray of blood. Coin grimaced and pulled back, willing the meat to knit itself together.


    "So, what are you exactly?" Leona asked, leaping for her fallen sword and snatching it up. "Not a wizard, like Askyr said. What kind of bizarre mimic are you?"


    "You don''t need to worry about the little details. You''ll be dead soon anyway."


    He raced toward her in a sudden burst of speed, reeling his elongated limb back into place. He raised his fists, studding his forearms with bone growths to act as makeshift shields. He intercepted a swing from the assassin, her sharpened blades clanging off calcified flesh that was sturdier than steel. Sprays of sparks lit up the blackness around them with each blocked blow.


    He saw Leona furrow her brow from intense focus, her eyes narrowing to a space just at his side. She vanished in a silver flash, reappearing at his right. His fist clocked her in the face a heartbeat later. The punch swept her off her feet and knocked her clean through the the windows overlooking the factory floor. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the entire building.


    It had been a lucky guess on Coin''s part. He had tried to follow Leona''s teleportation as best he could, and had noticed the way her eyes moved in the direction of wherever she was going to reappear. It made sense, Coin noted. She had to see where she was going if she was going to jump to a specific spot.


    Leona''s body landed on the lid of a wooden coal storage, breaking several of the boards beneath her. Coin rushed to the broken windows to look down at her, and watched as Leona rose to her full height on shaky legs. Broken glass had slashed her upper arms and the side of her neck, but none had cut deep enough to cripple her.


    "Agh.. hah..." She smiled, glancing to her left arm as it hung limp and broken by her side. Leona chuckled, despite herself. "Damnation. You''re... strong."


    Coin looked beyond her, to the far end of the factory. Elijah had chased Valle down, wrestling him to the ground. Elijah may have been older, but he was stockier and stronger than Valle.


    "G-get off of me!" Valle shouted, trying and failing to shove the older man off of him.


    "Damn you, stop writhing you blasted fool!" Elijah hissed. "What do you mean, you little bastard? Have they already stolen the damn powder?"


    "I''m sorry, I''m sorry, I''m sorry," Valle fumbled a hand toward his belt, with the desperation of an animal getting set to gnaw their own paw off.


    Coin''s heart froze in his chest, a terrible dread rising in his chest. "Elijah!" He jumped from his vantage point, crossing half the factory floor in a single bound. He didn''t even notice Leona flinging a blade at him, even as it thudded into his ribs.


    In that same instant, Valle had whipped a blade from his belt. And rammed it clean into Elijah''s guts.


    Coin''s eyes widened in horror, his feet slamming into the floor in an awkward landing. Elijah fell back from a horrified Valle, dropping his long and hooked blade from his grasp.


    "I didn''t mean to.. O-oh, Goddess!" Valle, pale as a ghost, turned and sprinted for the open doors as fast as his legs would carry him.


    Coin sprinted toward his fallen mentor and swept him into his arms. "Elijah!" he cried, pressing a hand to the great wound in his chest. Valle, in a desperate and blind panic, had sliced his midriff clean open.


    "Lad," Elijah wheezed, shaking and trembling.


    Leona had moved from where she stood, raising her blade with her one working arm. Coin turned and fixed her with a dreadful glare, his body destabilizing into a briar of black flesh, gnashing teeth, and luminous golden eyes. The assassin froze at the sight of him.


    Then, wisely, she blinked past him toward the open doors in a flash of silver light.

 Chapter 70 - To Know Despair

    Elijah reached up with a shaky hand, pressing his blood-smeared palm to Coin''s cheek. The mimic grimaced. A wound that deep, and this much blood lost... it did not take a genius to understand that a human could not survive such an injury for too long.


    "Damnit," Coin hissed, hoisting his arms under Elijah''s knees and shoulders. A third limb, an ill-defined coil of flesh, sprouted from his right arm and pressed firm against Elijah''s midriff. It would not too much to staunch the bleeding, but it was a damn sight better than nothing.


    "Healer... got to get you to a healer," Coin huffed, his cheeks shimmering as he soaked in Elijah''s drying blood.


    The old man grunted. "Too late for that. Far too late."


    "You let me be the judge of that," Coin growled, turning and bolting for the open doors. His shoulder slammed into one, wrenching it off its hinges.


    Valle... he''d kill the bastard. Eat him alive from the ankles up, make sure he understood exactly who he had chosen to cross!


    "Only the temples would be open now," Elijah wheezed. He was growing paler by the second, and looked as if he was aging rapidly in Coin''s grasp. "And they... there''s nothing... ain''t nothing they can do..."


    "Stop saying things like that!"


    The mimic''s mind raced through a mental map of the city, trying to recall everything he knew of Sentinel. They had passed the temple more than once, for it sat near the border between Lowtown and the Merchant''s Quarter. It was distinguished by the great silvery dome of its roof, and Coin knew he would be able to see it from a considerable distance if he could get the right point of view.


    It was a modest distance from the Spokes, and reaching it by foot would take some time for a normal human.


    Fortunately, Coin was far removed from a normal human.


    He fought back against the burning exertion in his muscles, tried to dull the pain that Leona had inflicted upon him. Power surged into his muscles, and he took off in a mad sprint.


    The Spokes, by daylight, were a confusing tangle of smoke-filled streets. At night the scenery blended into an ugly haze, and Coin found it hard to retrace his steps.


    He kept Elijah clutched tight to his chest, doing everything he could to keep his body stable. The old man was groaning all the same, seeming to slip in and out of consciousness.


    "Lad," he tried to groan.


    "Just... just take it easy," Coin growled. "You saved my skin when I got poisoned. So now... now it''s my turn to do the same thing for you!"


    Of course, Coin knew all too well the limitations of a normal human body, and that his mentor definitely lacked the same inhuman vitality that Coin could call upon. Even if Elijah was in the prime of his life, an injury like that would be a nightmare to endure, let alone survive.


    Thinking quickly, Coin clutched his mentor closer and summoned a whirlwind under his feet. It took considerable focus and effort to lift the weight of two men, particularly when Coin''s body was so dense from compacted biomass. But he pressed on, lifting them higher and higher until his heels settled onto the roof of a workhouse.


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    The elevated position showed a clearer route across Sentinel. There, shimmering under the light of the moons, was the silvery dome of the temple.


    "So far," Coin whispered.


    Going at his full speed, he could cross that distance rather easily. Trivially, almost. But when he was carrying an injured man, who had been slit open, he had to debate with himself about how quickly he could or should go.


    "Funny, ain''t it?" Elijah huffed, closing his eyes. Despite the pain he was in, making him shake and shudder with each laboured breath, he was smiling. "A mimic, trying to save the life of a human. That... that right there? That''s gotta be one for the history book. First time ever that something like this has happened."


    "Stop talking. Conserve your strength." He set off at a trot, crossing the breadth of the rooftop. Another gale blossomed at his feet, carrying the two of them across the gap to the next roof. Then he did so again and again, hopping across the roofs with small currents of wind guiding their passage.


    "A mimic saving a human. If the world knew what you are..." Elijah grimaced. "Hopefully they''d accept you for your true nature."


    Coin frowned to himself. He couldn''t take that risk. If anyone in power didn''t like the prospect of a smart mimic knew of his existence... then his existence would suddenly have a much shorter time limit attached to it.


    "You''re a lot like him, you know." Elijah murmured, his words growing progressively fainter. "My Zeke. My boy. Just as stubborn as him. Never knew when to call it quits."


    So that was who Elijah had spoken of all those weeks ago. His son. Coin''s mouth contorted into a deep frown. Maybe he''d seen Coin in that light from the moment he became his apprentice. Or maybe it was a recent development.


    It didn''t matter, Coin tried to tell himself. And yet he couldn''t help but dwell on it. He couldn''t remember his own parents, the mimics who spawned him. Even if he could they were simply monsters driven by instinct, as all procreating wild animals are, and had no love for them just as they would have had no love for him once he was grown.


    To mimics, there was no such thing as ''family.'' In truth, almost their whole existence was one of skulking and solitude.


    But the idea that Elijah saw him even close to being like family... it made Coin''s chest tighten.


    Elijah''s breathing had grown ghastly faint by the time Coin reached the border of the Merchant''s Quarter, and he barely so much as stirred as the mimic floated them back down to street level. The streets around them were dark, save for the burning brasiers that marked the double doors of the temple.


    Those doors were partially ajar, revealing a large banner on the far wall that sported the diamond symbol Coin had seen a few times now. "Made it. I made it! Thank goodness!" He sucked his tendril of extra flesh back into his body just to keep up appearances.


    He gripped Elijah closer and rushed through the door, and soon found himself to face with a woman in a wooded white robe, and a rather portly man in a similar garment. They stared at the newcomers in stunned silent, but soon focused their gaze on Elijah''s bleeding body.


    "By the Goddess!" the woman shouted, whipping her hood down and sweeping her dark locks back into a bun. "Elgaris! Run to the healer''s chamber and prep a bed!"


    "R-right away Sister Steele!" The portly man turned and broke into a sprint, moving rather quickly despite his plump build.


    Sister Steele moved closer and pressed her left hand to Elijah''s brow, a meteorite ring glittering on one finger. A halo of warm orange light shone around her fingers and faded after a few seconds. "Goodness, he''s barely hanging on. Follow me! W-what in the world happened to him?"


    Coin fell in behind the older woman, his chest rising and falling with laboured breathing. "A maniac stabbed him, tried to slice him open at the waist."


    Valle. The mere thought of the man made his blood boil. He had the man''s scent now, and there was nowhere in the world he could go that Coin wouldn''t track him to.


    "I''ll do what I can to heal him, but..." She trailed off as they entered a large room that had a plush bed in the middle of it. The cabinets and shelves on the back wall were laden with an assortment of potions, and mason jars full of herbs. "But I can''t promise anything. Please, wait outside."


    "But-"


    She held a hand up to silence him as Elgaris lowered Elijah onto the bed. "I know you are worried, but you will only get in the way here. So please... for his sake."


    Coin hesitated, but ultimately relented. This woman was an expert, and he had no choice but to trust her judgement. And so, ultimately, he withdrew.


    His eyes met Elijah''s one more time, the old man sporting a tiny smile. "My boy," he mumbled, only barely audible to Coin''s sharpened ears.


    Coin spent the next two hours seated in the temple''s entryway, hunched over and gnawing on the tips of his thumbs. Elijah''s blood had soaked his shirt clean through, and then dried into a flaking mess.


    A continual reminder for what they had been through.


    When Sister Steele emerged, she was partially hunched over from the exertion and her face carried a sheen of sweat to it.


    She locked eyes with Coin and, with some effort, pushed through her exhaustion and stood upright.


    "I''m... sorry," she said, brushing a few strands of hair from her brow. "I did all I could to stabilize your friend. But in the end there was only so much I could do. He''s... gone."


    Coin stared at her in silence, mouth agape, as his world shattered like glass around him.

 Chapter 71 - A Crushing Ache

    Silence filled the solar of Elijah''s home, fire crackling in the hearth while a dull fog drifted past the windows. Sentinel was facing another day of grim weather, it seemed.


    Coin sat hunched by the fireplace, staring into the blaze. Essine was sobbing in her chair across from him, while Pearl paced uncomfortably from point to point.


    "Damn it all," the bard huffed. She had not known Elijah for long, but she had thought of him as a good and kind man. For him to be gutted like an animal, it was a cruel fate no man deserved. Least of all one who had been blessed with a good heart.


    "This one... this one does not understand. Why... what would drive Valle to do that to a friend?" She gripped her knees as she spoke. "He offered Valle a chance at freedom. Showed him more mercy than he deserved. And still he... still..." Grip tightened, and suddenly the glyphs of her magic began to shine faintly on her arms.


    Pearl gripped her shoulder. "Because he was a stupid, desperate fool. And there''s nothing more dangerous, more unpredictable, than a stupid, desperate fool."


    Essine calmed her breathing. The glow of her arms slowly faded.


    "I tried to help him," Coin murmured. "And I failed." That thought had gripped his mind ever since Sister Steele broke the news to him, leaving him in a daze he couldn''t break free from.


    What was this feeling? This crushing ache that dominated his mind? Coin had been exposed to a litany of emotions since his evolution, but nothing quite like this.


    And, though he feared to dwell on it, some small part of himself wished he could go back to his old mindless state if it meant he didn''t have to feel this ache any longer. Would the feelings ever passed? Whenever he tried to think of something else, to distract himself, he was dragged straight back to the mental image of Elijah''s corpse.


    "We can''t just leave things like this," Pearl remarked. "You told the town guards what had happened?"


    Coin nodded. He had explained the details as best he could remember, omitting the details about his powers, and they had seemed to believe him when he claimed Valle Irons was the murderer. They had been wary of Coin, at first, but his shock and grief had been so genuine that it had left them doubtful that he could have done the deed himself.


    Just as it seemed unlikely, in their eyes, for him to murder a man in the dead of night without any witnesses, only to then run screaming into the temple where everyone present had seen his face and gotten his name.


    It would have been far easier to simply kill him and vanish into the night, unseen, if he had done the deed.


    "Well, nice as it would be to have Arcadian soldiers looking into the matter, I believe it would be prudent to look in to the matter ourselves," she muttered.


    "I intend to," Coin replied, finally prying his gaze from the fire. "I''m going to find Valle Irons myself. And kill him."


    Essine frowned. "This one... this one understands your sorrow, Coin. But please be careful. Irons may be a fool, as Pearl says, but his allies are very dangerous people."


    "Then I''ll kill them too, if I have to."The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Pearl and Essine shared an uncomfortable glance.


    "That Leona is a very dangerous swordswoman," Pearl eventually said, folding her arms. "She could cause you a lot of trouble. And I''d imagine the Brotherhood have other killers just as dangerous as her."


    "I drove her away before. And if she fights me a second time, she won''t have a chance to flee," Coin replied. Anyone who got between himself and Valle was putting their life in his hands. And, right now, he had a very vicious grip.


    The door creaked open to reveal Domajor. The butler was trying his best to wear his usual flat expression. But redness surrounded his eyes, and the corners of his mouth were regular twitching uneasily.


    "A man is here to see you, Master Coin."


    "See... me?" he asked warily. Probably one of Elijah''s friends, wanting some insight on what had happened. It wasn''t like he had a long list of friends he could call upon, personally.


    "A lawyer from Eli-... Ser''s personal law office."


    "Ah. Well, show him in. Domajor, you don''t have to work during all this, you know," Coin replied.


    "I thank you for your concern, Ser Coin. But my labours will distract me from other thoughts." The butler left the room and returned soon after, accompanied by a stooped man in a finely tailored emerald suit. His beard, his white, was done into a braid that reached toward his stomach.


    "You are... Coin Thaeka, yes?" he asked, adjusting his broad circular glasses. Coin nodded. "Ah, good. Condolences for your loss. Ser DiVenture was a fine and wise man. I am Mister Sacke, one of the lawyer from the company of Auld and Graye."


    Coin nodded grimly. "Well, uh, what can I do for you?"


    "Well..." Sacke reached into the satchel at his hip, pulling out a few folded pieces of parchment. "A few days ago we received a pair of letters from Ser DiVenture, delivered by bird. He requested an adjustment to his will, and we obliged after our scryer confirmed the validity of the message."


    "His... will?" Coin murmured in confusion.


    Essine quickly slipped in to try and prevent Coin''s ignorance from becoming too obvious. "His last will and testament! A-ah, yes, this one understands. It''s the article that decides who shall inherit what after he died."


    Coin blinked a few times. He supposed something had to be done for all of Elijah''s possessions. And it didn''t seem likely it would be a free for all where people could come and take whatever they wanted.


    Sacke cleared his throat and unrolled one parchment. "Initially, Ser DiVenture had no next of kin, and would be content leaving Archchancellor Velasco to decide what comes next with his possessions. But in recent days he seemed to have a change of heart. His home, his wealth, and all his worldly belongings... are hereby bequeathed to his apprentice: Coin Thaeka."


    The room fell silent. That rare breed of silence that was somehow deafening.


    "E-excuse me?" Coin eventually asked.


    "Oh my," Pearl mumbled, falling into an armchair to support herself. "All that money. All those resources."


    Coin was similarly shocked. Were it not for the grief in his heart, he''d be salivating at the prospect of all that money. "That''s... he... left it all to me?"


    "To... him?" Domajor asked, regarding Coin with a newfound wariness.


    "Indeed. It was a surprise for us too, but... again we verified the legitimacy of the letter through magical means." Sacke shrugged his bony shoulders. "There was one other thing. A sealed letter enclosed with the message we received, with explicit instructions that it was for Coin''s eyes only."


    Coin blinked a few times. In an instant it felt his whole world had been flipped all over again. From the grief of Elijah''s death, to the sudden shock of being given all those possessions.


    The gears of the legal system could turn quickly, and ground rather finely when the wealthy were involved. As soon as they had received word of Elijah''s death, and confirmed it with the city authorities, the men of the Auld and Graye law office had sprang into action.


    "I realise this must all be a lot to take in, particularly with everything you have just gone through. And when Ser DiVenture''s affairs have been fully resolved, and you have processed your grief, we will discuss the finer details of your inheritance." He reached into his satchel again to produce a sealed letter, which he promptly handed over.


    Coin swallowed, taking the letter in his trembling hands. "I uh... r-right. Thank you." He was told there would be a funeral in a few days time. News of his passing had been enough to get the city authorities involved, Velasco''s own people wanting to organise events.


    Which, if nothing else, made things a little bit easier for Coin.


    "He left this letter for me," Coin murmured, lifting the sealed letter into view. The last message the old man had for him. The last thing he''d ever hear from him.


    Suddenly, holding that slim envelope in his hands, it felt as if it weighed a thousand tons.


    "I suppose..." he slowly dragged his thumbnail through the wax seal to break it. "I have no choice but to read it."

 Chapter 72 - The Final Message

    Coin took a seat on one of the couches as he unfolded the letter. His eyes briefly examined the rows of neat, tightly packed letters that lined the page from top to bottom.


    His literacy had grown much better since he first started travelling with Elijah, though it was going to take him some time to pick through the whole letter. His own reluctance would hardly help him in that regard either.


    He took a breath and started reading.


    Coin, my lad.


    If you''re reading this, then I''ve unfortunately passed from this life into whatever lies beyond. Ideally you won''t have to read this letter for many years. But if that''s not the case, and I''ve left you prematurely, then I''m very sorry.


    Knowing what you are now, the world around you must seem like a very vast, strange, and intimidating place. And I only wish I could give you the guidance you need to survive it. Should I fail, then I know you''ll be able to bring others to your aid.


    You''re an odd one, no doubt about it, but you have an odd charm and charisma. There will always be those drawn toward it, so long as you remain yourself.


    By now, some old fool of a lawyer will have given you the news of your inheritance: Everything that I owned is now yours. A lot to take in, eh? I know you hunger like a starving prisoner when it comes to gold, but please be responsible.


    Maybe consider putting that gold to a more noble cause? Ever since I met you, and got to know Essine, I''ve spent a lot of my quiet moments ruminating on the world. All the ills and woes I could have done something to combat, but chose not to. I''ve sat on my money for a long while, accruing wealth but doing little with it. If I''ve died before I could change that, then it would mean a lot to me if you used that wealth for something good.


    Find ways to help people, make the world a better place in a litany of small ways.


    There was once a time when I had all these grand ambitions and plans in my head. But losing my wife and then my son, I fear that broke something irreplaceable inside of me. But perhaps you can live the grand ambitions that once guided me too.


    I imagine, since your evolution, you have asked yourself what the meaning of life is. A burdensome thought known only to those with the capacity to think of it. Truthfully, I have no answer. As best I can figure, the pursuit of meaning is in and of itself the meaning of life.


    Keep going, keep learning, keep striving. Every day.


    Some would say it may be too soon to leave you as my beneficiary. But you are my apprentice, and there are few I could think to entrust this to. And, in truth, the dangers we have come upon since meeting each other, I''ve become increasingly aware of how fragile my own life is. I am not a man of faith, but I am a man who believes in premonition.


    So many brushes with death, so suddenly, I fear the end of my road is coming faster than I wish it to. So, just in case, I''m covering my bases and ensuring my wealth goes to someone I know I can depend upon.Stolen novel; please report.


    I''m very glad I met you, Coin. Taking you on as an apprentice was a spur of the moment decision on my part, a gut feeling that told me you had a lot of untapped potential. But even I couldn''t have predicted how good my gut instinct was.


    I know you may be afraid to be your true self, and you have a good reason to be. But ideally, some day, you will be able to be honest with the world.


    My life was all the better for having known you.


    Goodbye, my friend.


    A small drop of moisture struck the bottom of the page. Then another, and another. Coin blinked to attention, only now aware that the droplets were rolling down his cheeks. He held the page away to avoid hitting any of the ink.


    "What is... this...?" Coin asked, tapping a shaky finger under his right eye. Water was flowing from his eyes, a strange feature he couldn''t wrap his head around.


    When he first created his human disguise, his body had followed the exact template of all the exterior features of human anatomy. Tear ducts included.


    And so, without even the faintest understanding of why on his part, his eyes were were being drowned in a sudden flood of tears.


    "Oh, Coin," Pearl said in a soft voice, settling a strong hand on his shoulder. "It''s alright. Let it all out." She reached over with a free hand, offering him a silken cloth.


    Essine halted at his other side, stealing a glance to the page in his hands. Her own eyes, already raw from her own weeping sorrow, grew wet again.


    "This grief you feel, it is normal," the kobold said in a low, soft voice. She stroked a hand over the top of his head, and gradually Coin felt a strange sense of relief bubbling up inside himself.


    Or, a sensation akin to relief at least.


    Yet the tears kept flowing, a strangled hiss of breath rising in his throat. "I don''t... I don''t want to feel this way ever again," Coin said, gritting his teeth until his jaw began to ache.


    "It is part of being human. Of being alive. This one understands the pain all too well. The ache and longing of losing a loved one. It hurts now, this one knows, but... you will endure, in time. The heart mends."


    Domajor stood by the door and watched all this transpire, uncertainty flashing on his normally grim face. What was he to make of all this?


    Mister Sacke, who had remained rooted in place this whole time, gently cleared his throat. "I, er, realise that this is a difficult and turbulent time for you. And frankly, I may have just added to your confusion and uncertainty. But there is one more matter to discuss."


    Grunting, Coin reached up and tried to dry his eyes as best he could. Easier said than done. He had to actively alter the flesh under his face, sculpting it to cut off those damn weeping ducts. "Ah... fine. Very well," he replied in a low, shaky voice. "Tell me... what else is there?"


    "Well, in matters such as this, we have to be in touch with Archchancellor Velasco''s people. Official paperwork, you see. And he became rather interested when he learned that a relative stranger had become Ser DiVenture''s beneficiary."


    Pearl shifted uncomfortably, slowly stroking her chin. "I suppose their interest is to be expected. Elijah was something of a legend, and his wealth being given to someone like Coin... well there will be questions asked, I have no doubt about that."


    Sacke nodded. "Not just questions. You see, I was told to pass along an invitation to the Obelisk, at your earliest convenience. I was told that you would be granted a swift audience with Velasco himself once you give your name."


    An irritable sigh rose in Coin''s throat. He didn''t want to see Velasco. He didn''t want to see anyone, in truth. And the idea of leaving the manor for anything other than killing Valle Irons felt like a waste of time to him.


    But, from what he knew of Velasco, he supposed he was a man who wouldn''t appreciate being left waiting. And if the matter was not dealt with soon, it could become an inconvenience as he started hunting down Valle and his friends.


    Best to simply get it all taken care of as soon as possible.


    "Fine."


    Essine and Pearl blinked and recoiled as Coin rose from the couch. "You''re... going over there? Right now? Er... it''s a little bit risky to just rush in. Even if Velasco is expecting you. He has a rather worrying reputation, after all," Pearl said.


    Coin shrugged. "Has to be done. And maybe the distraction will help me... clear my head." He locked eyes with Domajor, who stiffened under Coin''s gaze. "You er... keep doing what you''re doing. I''ll hopefully be back before tonight."


    "Ah, of course... Ser," Domajor replied. He tried to stand to attention as best he could, still grappling with the reality that this bumpkin was now his master.


    He spared a glance to his friends, his eyes red and raw. "You stay here. I''ll handle this myself."


    He had gotten careless, and walked Elijah into the jaws of danger. He couldn''t allow anyone else to meet that same fate by following after him.

 Chapter 73 - In the Dark

    Sentinel was an ancient city that had weathered many sieges, catastrophies, calamities, and assorted crises that had led to great sections of it being destroyed or washed away with the passage of time. Thus, beneath the streets that people strode about in their daily lives, stretched a network of underground catacombs, sewers and ruins.


    For the most part, these were only accessible to people who had intricate knowledge of the city''s layout. And the Brotherhood of the Dagger had had many years to map out and exploit this network of ruins to their advantage.


    As far as hideouts went, it was far from glamorous. But it got the job done.


    "He told me, outright, that he was a mimic. I don''t know how or why a mimic was as smart as a human, or pretending to be one, but that''s what he said." Leona paced around what passed for her room, a dusty stone chamber lit solely by an oil lantern in the corner.


    Askyr sat in her chair, watching her in silence. He hadn''t moved since she started recounting her tale to him, quiet as the grave while she rambled on and on. His thin lips were pulled into a line, and the more she spoke the more concerned he became.


    "A mimic with human intelligence?" he eventually murmured. "How would such a creature come to be?"


    "I don''t know. And I... I frankly don''t care. All I know is, that he needs to die. It''s... I''ve never had an opponent who pushed me this far."


    Askyr had gotten a healer her as soon as she came dragging a near catatonic Valle Irons in with her one working arm. And while her bones and bruises had been swiftly mended, her mind had never stopped racing since she came back. She loved a good fight, but she loved winning more. And to be brought so close to death, seeing that monstrous power for only a heartbeat...


    That mimic could grow incredibly dangerous if he wasn''t dealt with soon. A major roadblock to Asky''s plans and ambitions.


    "A talking mimic, wearing the skin of a human, who happened to be the apprentice to Elijah DiVenture," Askyr murmured, slowly stroking at his chin.


    Leona halted mid-step, giving her mentor a glare. "You don''t believe me, do you?" she asked, irritably.


    He held a hand up to silence her. "It''s not that. It''s... a lot to take in. But from what our informants have gathered, it was a real violent scene at Valle''s factory. Clearly you had a hard fight out that way."


    "I killed plenty of mimics in the wild. They''re dangerous, sure, but they''re also predictable. That one though..." A shudder raced down the length of her body. "That one had a grasp of how potentially dangerous a mimic''s abilities are. And you know I''ve heard that mimics, when they get older and eat more and more, they can become horrifyingly strong. I don''t want to imagine what that one could do down the line."


    Askyr nodded grimly. "Right," he murmured. "It''s a matter to look into. And I''ll be sure to send a few people to deal with the DiVenture crew later on. But, for now, we have more pressing concerns. A man with a high profile like DiVenture being murdered... there''s going to be plenty of people sniffing around. That''s what we need to be focused on, preparing for the fallout."


    "I suppose," Leona murmured. "I don''t doubt he''s already told the authorities about Valle. And perhaps my presence, too." A worrying prospect, but she was sure she could evade any guard patrols if she had to.


    "You did well getting Valle off the streets. But now that he''s a wanted man... it seems he may well have outlived his usefulness." He sighed and rose to his feet, strolling to the chamber door. He motioned for Leona to follow after him.


    The corridors ahead of them were dark stone, overgrowing with lichen and toadstools. But they had made sure to leave a few lanterns lit to help guide their way.


    Along the way they passed by a few goblins who had made their home in the tunnels, at Lord Bleak''s insistence. Their angry, baleful eyes met Leona''s in passing.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The goblins were allied with the Brotherhood against a common enemy, but that did not make them friends. It was just that the goblins had numbers that made them into valuable manpower, and would not think twice about any orders given to them. But Leona knew, all too well, that they were most certainly not friends.


    Still, when the time came they''d deal with the goblins too.


    "O-oh! Ser Askyr! Hello! A moment of your time, if you would be so kind!" a gentle, foppish voice called out. They were passing a series of windows that had been carved into the tunnel walls, affixed with sturdy metal grating that prevented anything larger than a pair of fingers from poking through.


    Askyr sighed and motioned for Leona to halt. She peered through the grate to the massive and well lit chamber beyond. It had all the comforts a man could need. A plush and padded bed in the far corner, a bookshelf with many complex tomes on the shelves, a few bottles of finely preserved wine, and drawing table with many half-finished sketches atop the slanted surface.


    The man inside was dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark brown trousers, his beard neatly trimmed thanks to the shaving kit he''d been gifted. One would assume him to be a normal resident of the underground structure, until they saw the great steel shackle that was wrapped around his left ankle. The chain for it was rather long, enough to encompass about two laps of his prison cell.


    It was perhaps the nicest prison one could hope to find in Arcadia.


    The resident, of course, did not quite appreciate these comforts. Prisoners scarcely enjoy prison, no matter how nice they are. Much to the sorrow of the wardens who try ever so hard to gussy things up for them.


    "Hello, Ser LeBon," Askyr said in a low, crisp voice. He managed to feign civility, only because Lord Bleak had ordered their prisoner to be well taken care of.


    Until he gave his captors a reason to be rough with him, naturally.


    "I was just er..." LeBon ran a tongue over his cracked lips, his eyes alight with the kind of mania known only to men who had spent months locked in a cell. "I was wondering if I could, perhaps, go free soon?"


    "Are you still working hard on your inventions?" Askyr asked, folding his hands behind his back.


    LeBon glanced frantically over his shoulder to a workstation currently housing a long steel pipe on it, finely tailored and sculpted with the myriad of special tools invented by LeBon''s own hands. "I... I am," he murmured.


    "Well, then, his lordship still has use of you. I would suggest you continue your tinkering until such time as your work is deemed complete." He turned and trod off with Leona in tow.


    "W-wait! I''ve been down here for so long!" LeBon cried. "I don''t even know what month it is anymore!"


    Leona tutted to herself as she breezed past LeBon''s stalwart guards. "Poor bastard." Too naive to understand that his life was over as soon as he was deemed no longer of use.


    It did not take long to find the chamber that Valle Irons had been placed in. A cramped room that felt all the tighter with the three of them inside of it. Valle was still leaning against the back wall where Leona had left him.


    The man looked catatonic, Elijah''s blood marring his shirt like a dried mural.


    Askyr sighed and shook his head. "You really have made a mess of things for us, you know," he said, settling a hand on his blade. "As unpleasant as I found you to be, you were always adept at performing tasks given to you. Now, as a wanted criminal, what good are you?"


    Valle didn''t answer. His slack-jawed expression barely changed. Were it not for the slow movements of his chest, or his sporadic blinking, it would be easy to assume he was a corpse.


    "Honestly. Not even going to say anything in your defence? What a wretch you are. You cause us trouble, and can''t even muster an apology?!" He punctuated the last word with a harsh backhand, knocking Valle onto his side.


    That, finally, got a reaction out of him. Valle groaned, a shaky hand rubbing at his aching cheek.


    Leona shook her head and leaned against the doorframe. She doubted Valle was even capable of running away, but it didn''t hurt to be cautious.


    "I should just kill you here and now, save us all some damn bother. Your resources are no good to us now, and I have no doubt your factory will soon be crawling with city guards."


    Leona sighed and closed her eyes. "At least some of the blame is mine. Had I killed both of them, we wouldn''t be in this situation."


    "True. But he''s the one who created this situation for us in the first place. And since he can provide no more use for us..." Askyr drew his blade, orange light gleaming on the perfectly tended edge.


    "Wait..." Valle hissed.


    Askyr loomed above him, a dispassionate look on his face. "Why should I?" he asked.


    "I have... I have one more thing... my trump card... for a time like this." There was no emotion in his voice as he spoke. But Valle was a survivor at his core, a man who would do anything to live in even the most dire of situations.


    "Ha. Of course you do. Well, this should be good for a laugh... Come on. Say your piece."


    And Valle Irons did just that. He spoke of a secret known only to a handful of men in the kingdom, a secret he had only learned through some sneaky, underhanded means while travelling in the smoky underbelly of Arcadia''s gambling halls. Something constructed in the wake of Velasco rise to power, which would be a great asset if it could be found.


    Askyr and Leona listened, initially to humour him, but growing intrigued as they pried more details from the man. And it became increasingly clear that it was not just the deranged ramblings of a coward desperate to save his skin.


    There may well have been some legitimacy to his words.


    Askyr scoffed and shook his head. "You live for now," he said as he sheathed his blade. "At least until we verify this... promise of yours. But if it turns out you are lying you will have graduated from a swift death to a slow one."

 Chapter 74 - We Meet Again

    Coin sat silently on a bench outside the looming doors of Velasco''s chamber. Many guards and civil servants had passed him by as he waited to be allowed inside, sparing him not a single glance.


    That was, until, one woman came to a halt at his side. "Coin?"


    The mention of his name made the mimic blink in surprise. He slowly looked up, and found himself staring into the beautiful features of a blonde elf. She was adorned in a flowing scarlet surcoat with black stripes on the sides, the symbol of a manticore stitched to her breast.


    It took him a moment to recognise the semi-familiar features. "Illyana?" he murmured, blinking in surprise. "What are you doing here? I thought you worked in Wheat Valley."


    "Well it''s... a long story. But for now I''m currently in the service of Archchancellor Velasco''s Manticore Squadron."


    "I''ve... never heard of that," Coin replied.


    "Most haven''t," Illyana admitted, forcing a small smile. She took a seat beside him, tenting her gloved fingers. "It''s... the military arm of Arcadia''s intelligence network. In the past, before Velasco took power, the Brotherhood of the Dagger handled all things related to spycraft, assassination, and intelligence gathering. Nowadays, to keep any group from growing as powerful as the Brotherhood, those branches are all separate entities."


    "Oh. Well... I suppose that''s an upgrade for you?"


    Illyana shrugged. "Somewhat. I er... I heard about what happened to Elijah. I''m so sorry Coin. I did not know him for long, but no man deserves to die like that." Her hand settled on his shoulder, her grip strong and comforting. "But I promise you... the man who did this will be caught and face justice."


    Coin nodded grimly. "I know."


    A gnome, sharply dressed, bustled over with all the speed of a frantic civil servant. "Ser Thaeka? Achchancellor Velasco will see you now."


    "Ah. Thank you," Coin said, slowly moving to stand. "It would be nice to catch up properly, if you have the time. I''m currently staying at Elijah''s home in Hightown." Currently... but he had no idea what he would actually do with his life when he was finished with Valle.


    Go back to travelling? Keep up the merchant trade? Neither seemed appealing to him now.


    Nothing seemed appealing to him now.


    Illyana frowned at him. "In Thallborea, we have a saying. Engrave names upon your heart, so that you always carry them with you. Elijah may be gone, but he is a part of you."


    In more ways than Illyana knew. His blood circulated in Coin''s very body, another portion of biomass in that vast pool of meat. Yet Coin could feel it when he focused on it. Traces of Elijah''s existence, a reminder that the old man had been alive... and was still with him, in some small way.


    A very tiny smile formed on Coin''s face. "Thank you, Illyana." He pressed on toward the doors, which a pair of guards held open at his approach. They closed behind him as soon as he was through.


    Velasco stood beside his fireplace, silently examining a roll of parchment in his slim hands. Coin hesitated.


    He felt foolish, considering the man before him seemed so small and scrawny. But the reputation he had, the mutterings he''d overheard from others, he could not help but dwell on the potential danger this man posed.


    And, inwardly, he was anxiously wondering why he had been called out here at all.


    "My condolences for your loss, young man. Ser DiVenture did much in the service of Arcadia in the past. And truly we are worse off for his passing." He didn''t look up from the page in his grasp, reading it with a keen focus.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "Did you know him?" Coin asked.


    "We were not close friends," Velasco replied, slowly rolling the parchment back up. "But we met, on more than one occasion, prior to the collapse of the royal family. Given his wealth, and the inflow of money he brought to Sentinel, the king had his share of meetings with the man."


    "I see," Coin replied.


    Velasco finally turned to face him. His face was flat and unreadable as he examined Coin with his mismatched eyes. Then, eventually, he tilted his head a bit and offered Coin a smile. "You, on the other hand, were quite close to him. To be his heir... quite a turn of events."


    "I suppose so. But I didn''t want any of this. I''d prefer it if he were alive."


    "Alas, we are rarely so fortunate in what we want Ser Thaeka. To live is to love and lose. There is nobody alive who has not lost one they cared for. It is a scar upon the soul, and people collect those scars for as long as they live."


    He strode to his desk and took a seat. He motioned to the chair across from where he sat. It was a seat that had almost been surgically designed to sit on the precipice of discomfort. Armrests too stiff, cushion too thin. Velasco did not want any guests to get too comfortable in his presence.


    Coin tried to get comfortable, as best he could, and felt the spine of the chair actively rebuff his advances. He''d be annoyed, if he didn''t have other issues on his mind.


    "Now then. I wished to take a moment to meet you for myself. Given your newfound wealth and sudden appearance... I suppose you''ve piqued my curiosity."


    Coin shrugged. "I''m nobody special. I came from a place just south of Wheat Valley, and Elijah took a liking to me after I saved his life. I wanted to learn how to be a merchant, and he was happy to teach me." It was all technically true, and that was good enough in Coin''s eyes.


    "Ah. Rags to riches?"


    "I suppose," Coin replied, a look of pure boredom on his face.


    "From my understanding, Elijah changing his will was a recent development. I assume, Ser Thaeka, that you were unaware of this?" Velasco asked.


    The mimic narrowed his eyes, a flash of venom in his pupils that would make seasoned warriors shudder with apprehension. Velasco was unmoved. "What are you implying?"


    "I imply nothing. But you should know that there are those who will regard the sudden windfall of your wealth with suspicion," Velasco replied, slowly tenting his fingertips.


    "If I could trade my life for his, I would."


    "How noble," Velasco bluntly replied. "So what was it that killed Elijah in the end? I''ve read the reports, but I find it hard to believe. Killed at the hands of Valle Irons, who is in league with the Brotherhood of the Dagger?"


    Coin nodded stiffly. "That''s true," he replied in a low voice, his expression calm and level.


    "How do you know it was the Brotherhood?"


    Coin told the older man of their unfortunate business in Grafia. Their dealings with Valle that brought them to that town, where Coin ''accidentally'' stumbled upon a secretive cabal, and the sinister weapons they were constructing.


    And that, ultimately, they had been tricked into doing Valle''s bidding without knowing what he had planned.


    There was little point in lying, Coin supposed. If they were to check Elijah''s ledgers, they''d see records of their dealing with Valle. And if Elijah''s ledger went ''missing'', it would be all the more damning.


    "A cannon that can fit inside a man''s hand, and fire little cannon balls that can pierce through plate armour," Velasco murmured. It was not a question, and there was no incredulity to his tone. He furrowed his brow. "I see."


    "I know it sounds strange, but it''s true."


    "No. I believe you are telling the truth, as it happens. And that means our situation is more grave than I anticipated. I may have to do something a touch dangerous," Velasco mused. He leaned back in his chair. "You may go, Ser Thaeka. I have larger fish to fry."


    Coin blinked in surprise. Just like that? He tried to read into the man''s expression, but that wrinkled visage betrayed very little.


    But the mention of the hand cannon had clearly spooked him. Did he know about something like that being invented?


    The doors were suddenly shoved open. "M-Minister Fiodor! You can''t just barge in there!" the gnome from before exclaimed, speaking in the tones of a man who saw the end of the world on the horizon.


    Coin turned in his seat, eyes widening as he beheld Fiodor''s unmistakable features. His robe was black with golden trim, an ivory cloak draped over his shoulders. "Velasco I am willing to endure much of your nonsense but even I have my limitations. Blocking my shipment from Thalborea? By what right-"


    He froze, his eyes meeting Coin''s.


    "You-" they said in unison.


    In an instant both men snapped into action. Coin struck first, a lightning bolt exploding from his right hand. Fiodor had lifted his left hand just as quickly, a barrier of azure light forming in front of him to absorb the blinding impact.


    "You little shit," Fiodor hissed, energy blossoming in his free hand. Coin narrowed his eyes.


    That same magic that had smashed him into unconsciousness before, a wave of pure pressure that could carve clean through the ground. Coin lifted his other hand, a black cloud blossoming on his palm: Thunder at his fingertips. He''d be ready this time.


    Suddenly Coin and Fiodor were smashed violently into the ground with such force that the air was shunted from their lungs. Coin''s eyes swivelled around, just in time to see Velasco striding from his desk with his hand outstretched. The guards at the door backed away.


    Already, the situation had grown beyond their pay grade.


    Coin''s body felt heavy, as if his weight had more than tripled in an instant. He could have broken free from the magical force pinning him to the ground. But what then? Pick a fight with the Archchancellor? At least he was pinning Fiodor in place too.


    "I have many connections on my side. Including the force of gravity itself," Velasco said in a leaden voice, colder than the grave. "Now then... would you mind telling me why you have decided to turn my office into a wizard''s training ground?"

 Chapter 75 - Gravity is Indiscriminate

    "Your friend..." Coin growled, glaring up at Velasco, "tried to kill me!"


    "Oh?" Velasco tilted his head to the side. He kept his right hand outstretched, an aura of ghostly green light shimmering around his fingertips. Coin hadn''t sensed any magic from the man when they first met. But now it was pouring off of him in waves, with an intensity that felt inhuman.


    "Velasco," Fiodor growled, his palms forcibly pinned to the polished floor. "This mongrel just attacked one of your chancellors. Deal with him."


    "From what I saw, you attacked each other at the same time," Velasco admitted, sporting his usual calm expression. "Now, Ser Thaeka, tell me what happened?"


    Coin sucked in a breath, fighting against his own reflexes that told him to break free from Velasco''s grasp. "I came upon his carriage being attacked by goblins. I saved him and his men... and he tried to kill me with magic!"


    "Ah. I take if you were using magic at the time? Tut tut, Fiodor. I thought we were beyond your strange disdain towards humans with magic. Evidently not." The source of said disdain couldn''t help but smirk, just a tad. In truth the difference between Velasco smiling, and Velasco''s normal expression, could only be detected by someone with inhuman observation skills.


    Skinless skulls had more convincing smiles.


    Fiodor grit his teeth, his eyes burning with white hot malice. "Are you seriously believing the words of this stranger?!" he barked.


    "Given your prior behaviour? Yes," Velasco bluntly replied. He sighed as the glow faded from his hand. "I shall allow this indiscretion a single time, Ser Thaeka. Please refrain from giving me any reasons to regret this decision. But, knowing how dangerous Fiodor is, I will not fault you for being hasty. As for you, Fiodor... we will have words."


    Coin and Fiodor rose to their feet at the same time, glaring at each other all the while. In truth, while Coin''s magic had grown much stronger since their first meeting, he doubted he could beat Fiodor in a battle of pure magical power.


    The reflexes required to create a barrier that quickly were utterly inhuman, and the barrier itself had withstood his lightning without much difficulty. He had to imagine, in a straight fight, Fiodor was damn monstrous.


    Not that that would stop Coin, in the long run. He just had more pressing concerns for the time being.


    "Be on your way," Velasco ordered, motioning Fiodor over.


    Coin, slow and stiff strode from the room as Fiodor made for the old man''s desk. The doors closed behind him, and the two guards were trying as hard as humanly possible to not look at the mimic.


    Coin huffed as he strode from the doors. The whole experience had been odd, but Fiodor''s sudden appearance had seemingly allowed him to slip away and avoid any deeper questioning from Velasco.


    The Archchancellor clearly knew more than he was letting on. The hand cannon, in particular, seemed to strike a chord inside of him. But, for now, that also wasn''t much of a concern to Coin.


    Valle''s death was his current and most pressing concern.


    He wound his way back through the network of corridors he had used to get this far, only now without a guide to lead him. But, as he went along his way, he stopped at a fork in the corridor when he spotted Illyana, flanked by an assortment of other men and women in matching surcoats.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Intrigue briefly gripped Coin. Illyana was apparently involved in investigating Valle and the Brotherhood. And if they had any information, then he was entitled to know it too, as far as he was concerned.


    Coin leaned against the corner and tried to blend in and act normal. Anyone familiar with the world of civil servants will know that, naturally, a man standing stock still and doing not much of anything is an entirely normal sight in these environments.


    He strained his hearing, warping the funnels of his ears to amplify that sense to superhuman levels. And, gradually, words of conversation from the group drifted his way.


    One man stood at the head of the pack, distinguished by the helmet tucked under his arm that had feathery wings sculpted across the temples. The others had been given much less flashy helms. He was a human with deeply tanned skin, a thin scar crossing the bridge of his nose and a larger one warping his right cheek. It was hard to guess the man''s age, particularly from afar, but he must have been at least in his forties.


    "Our scouts have continued their hunt through the southern underground reaches, and have found nothing. Our maps of the underground are incomplete, the Brotherhood were clever to steal or destroy their records of those structures before they were fully ousted from power." He grunted and shook his head. "But our scouts have gradually been narrowing our search down, and we have a better sense of direction of where to look."


    He unfurled a parchment. It was too far to make out all the details from where Coin stood, but he could at least see roughly drawn lines that seemed to depict the outline of some city streets.


    "If Valle Irons is in league with the Brotherhood, and none of our checkpoints have reported the man exiting the city since we received news of DiVenture''s murder, then it is all too likely he is still somewhere in the city and in their care."


    Illyana raised her hand, earning a grunt and nod from the man. "How can we be certain, Captain Ladoss? I''m sure there must be some secretive routes out of the city, unknown to even the guards."


    "We can''t be certain of anything, lass. But we can still try to think things through logically. And if he was secreted from Sentinel, the way out had to originate from somewhere within these walls. So we''ll ferret out the last of the holes we know of, and continue to check for any trace of the man and his supposed allies."


    Coin pressed tighter to the walls, the corners of his mouth tugging uncertainly. So, Illyana''s new allies were going after Valle and the Brotherhood. Velasco certainly hadn''t wasted time getting people to look into things.


    Then again, Elijah had been a wealthy and high profile man. And if rich people were getting killed in the streets, something had to be done before the other rich people started to complain.


    Frankly, Coin had no leads on his own. Following this lot could, in theory, put him on the right track.


    Ladoss lifted and donned his helmet. "We''re going in. And we''ll either come back with Valle Irons, or have a solid lead on where to find him. Now get your arses in gear and follow me!"


    He whirled around, his cloak fanning at the motion, and set off through the corridors. His men clicked their heels together, saluted, and followed behind.


    Coin took off behind him and maintained a confident stride as he went, keeping a modest distance to keep any of the Manticores from noticing him. It is a well established fact, across every dimension and reality, that a person can walk freely in any important building so long as they walk confidently.


    Because, surely, a person wouldn''t strut about so freely if they weren''t meant to be there. At least, that was what anyone who was supposed to be there would think.


    Or, more likely, they weren''t getting paid enough to care about checking each and every person who bustled about the halls.


    People gave the Manticores a wide berth in passing, which allowed them to quickly weave their ways through the palace. Soon the group were moving from the heart of the city to the border of Lowtown. There the people graduated from moving out of their way, to scurrying into the shadows at the sight of them.


    Coin followed their lead all the while. And once they were out on the streets, and he was certain nobody was around to see him, he swiftly clambered up the side of a building and hopped from roof to roof.


    Ladoss kept a comfortable pace, and his men knew better than to lag behind him. Illyana took up the rear of their column, an uncertain look upon her face. Whenever Coin looked at her, usually while using chimneys for cover, he could tell she wasn''t entirely thrilled about being with the Manticores.


    They were certainly a stern and joyless group, Coin noted. They barely muttered a single syllable of small talk as they went.


    Still, as he surveyed the group, he couldn''t help but notice the confidence with which they carried themselves, and the quality of their gear. They were certainly a cut above the adventurer he had dealt with in his past life.


    But would that leave them on even footing with the members of the Brotherhood?


    Time would tell, he supposed.


    He spared a glance to the sky as he went along. Daylight was fast fading. He must have spent more time waiting for his meeting with Velasco than he thought, and this trek through the city had hardly been short. Ideally the others wouldn''t mind his absence for a little while longer.


    Eventually, the Manticores reached a region that bordered Lowtown and the Spokes. Coin perched himself beside a crumbling section of wall, watching as Ladoss made for the doors of a boarded-up husk of a building.


    He nodded silently to his cohorts, and slowly pushed the scorched doors open.

 Chapter 76 - Domajor Goes Forth

    Essine watched Domajor nervously as the looming man continued his dusting. He walked through Elijah''s study with the thoroughness of a professional killer, his duster like a blade that extinguished any stray mote of dust with ruthless efficiency.


    "Are you... sure there is nothing this one can do to aid you? This one feels... uneasy, letting you toil in this way."


    Domajor sighed. "Lady Essine, you are a guest of this home''s master. It would be a grave insult to me if you took up cleaning, as a result. This is the task of the servants, a divine calling we are proud to undertake."


    Well, Domajor was proud to undertake it. The other servants were likely content with just getting paid for their efforts.


    "It is just... unusual for a kobold to have someone labour on their behalf," Essine replied, idly fidgeting. Her gaze drifted to the bookcase at her side.


    Elijah had gathered a considerable collection over the years, though she had to wonder if he''d ever found the time to read half of it. She was a guest, so there would be no harm if she wished to partake in the tomes. Though she still felt awkward even considering it.


    Domajor shrugged without looking up from his work. "Lady Essine, as you have been told many times... you are a guest. And as a guest, your species is irrelevant."


    He paused and stroked a gloved finger over the freshly cleaned mantle. His glove remained as white as bleached bone. "Wonderful," he murmured.


    "It... must be hard for you, Domajor. We knew Elijah and liked him a great deal, but you must have known him for years. Your sorrow must be great."


    Finally he turned and looked at her. His posture was stiff, his expression straddling a line between annoyed and exhausted. "Ser was... a difficult and complicated man, at times. I knew him for many years, yes. He gave me a chance when I was young and untested. And I shall never forget that kindness."


    Essine smiled sadly. "He seemed to have a fondness for that. Helping others when most would turn them away, or spurn them."


    "He was a generous soul. To the chagrin of those who were to be his peers. It is not the ''done thing'' to be so charitable, in their eyes," Domajor explained. He frowned, a flash of bitterness briefly colouring his face.


    Essine frowned at him. "Yet you seem displeased, too. Do you... perhaps not like Coin?"


    "It''s... not that I dislike him. I barely know him, but he seems agreeable enough. Still, not knowing him is part of the problem. Ser travelled with him for perhaps weeks, a month or two at most, yet he was entrusted with Ser''s will? I''m not so arrogant to think I was entitled to anything after Ser''s passing, but even so..."


    He trailed off and briefly screwed his eyes shut. Essine wilted. From what she had seen of the man before, it was hard to believe he was capable of any emotion. He had seemed more like a machine devoted to cleanliness than a man.


    "Apologies," he eventually said. "It is not my place to judge or think ill of my new master."


    Essine''s ears flattened against the sides of her head. "This one knows that this situation must seem strange. And sudden too. But Coin and Elijah were close. They went through much together. And for as much as Coin loves money... this one has no doubt he would choose Elijah''s life over money every time," she explained.


    "Mm. Well, you know the man better than I." He pressed a hand against the mantle. "I suppose... I will get used to having a new master in time. Or, not, if he plans on travelling as often as Ser did. Fortunately Ser''s investments will ensure a steady influx of ducats to keep things flowing here."


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    "Elijah did much for this city?" Essine asked.


    "Oh yes. He had a few business and institutions in the Merchant''s Quarter that he funded to help get up and running. And, to this day, a modest sum of their income is brought into his account. Master Coin''s, rather."


    He opened his mouth to speak again, only to freeze when the sound of breaking glass sounded from somewhere behind them. It was followed a split second later by a scream.


    Essine''s eyes widened. "That was... that was Pearl''s voice!"


    Wordlessly, Domajor pressed to the nearest door and pushed it open. Essine quickly followed after him, only to skid to a halt as she spied racks and cases full of expertly preserved swords, axes, pikes, and throwing blades.


    "Ser had a fondness for collecting weapons as a youth. He grew out of it, eventually, but only after amassing a horde that we have strived to maintain ever since." He produced a small key from the inside of his coat (one of untold hundreds of keys he had on his person at any given moment, which he had an encyclopaedic knowledge of and could recognise by texture alone) and quickly unlocked a case.


    "I assume, Lady Essine, you are not a fighter?"


    "That..." she reached up and scratched her right shoulder. The runes, while invisible, formed a phantom sensation on her flesh. "That is true." The erebite bangle on her right wrist felt so much heavier now.


    For as much as she feared Scylla''s words, she knew it would be irresponsible to ever be without such an important weapon.


    Sighing, Domajor reached into the case and pulled out a dao, the glittering blade broader than his forearms pressed together. He held the weight effortlessly in one hand, doing a few quick whirls that showcased a practiced precision. The metal whistled through the air at every motion.


    She wouldn''t have expected a butler to look so experienced with a sword.


    He took off at a brisk trot, and Essine found herself following after him. If something was going on, and the sound of frantic footsteps from the floor above them certainly gave that impression, it seemed safest not to be alone.


    "Most of the staff have gone home by now," he muttered as they passed by rows of darkened window. He was making a beeline for the nearest staircase, his footfalls oddly silent. "Save for myself, Huld who should be in the kitchen at this hour, and Leonid."


    "Perhaps..." Essine swallowed hard. "Perhaps Pearl was frightened by a spider." It would hardly be surprising.


    "Please do not imply I would allow insects to squat in this home," Domajor replied as he pressed up the stairs.


    They rounded the crest of the stairs and hastened down the hall, just in time to see Leonid and Pearl rounding a corner ahead of them. The bard was clinging tight to the slender elf, a few thin cuts marring her right cheek.


    Leonid seemed in better shape, though no less panicked. Essine''s eyes were drawn to his free hand, rings of white light pulsating along his fingertips. "Master Domajor!" the elf gasped.


    "Behind me," he brusquely replied. Domajor swept forward, heedless of the small group gathering behind him. Several figures emerged from around the corner, adorned in dark clothes and hoods. Their faces were further concealed behind masks of lacquered wood, sculpted into placid expressions.


    Each of them carried a weapon, some wielding swords while others carried polished hatchets that gleamed in the fading light. Domajor narrowed his eyes.


    "Assassins, is it?" he asked, his voice colder than the grave. "I''m afraid I''m going to have to ask you to leave. You are not welcome in this home."


    The nearest assassin scoffed and swept toward him with ferocious swiftness, his blade aiming toward Domajor''s throat. Essine froze in place, expecting to see him cut down in the blink of an eye.


    Sparks lit up the hallway as blade met blade, the clang nearly deafening. Essine''s eyes widened, watching as Domajor met the assassin blow for blow, the impacts echoing around her with a rising intensity. Domajor moved with feline grace, each move flowing into the next without pause or hesitation.


    Domajor kicked the first assassin away just as a second rushed him. He sidestepped a swing from his axe, ducked under another, and severed the masked man''s throat with a well-timed slash. Blood gushed onto the window, spraying in rhythm with his fast-fading heartbeat, as the gargling man collapsed to the floor.


    "And now it falls to me to clean up the mess you lot have made," he growled.


    Essine stared in shock. Pearl looked on the verge of fainting. Leonid, on the other hand, was smiling. "I can''t remember the last time Master Domajor showed off his skills."


    "He''s..." Pearl gripped the banister for support. "The butler is a swordsman?"


    Now the assassins watched him with more wariness, uncertain eyes glancing to Domajor''s sword as he paced from side to side.


    "My father wanted what was best for me in life, better than what he had in his youth. That, ultimately, entailed me working so that I could become an agent of high society. My childhood was dominated by lessons on elocution, etiquette, and foreign languages."


    A swordsman lunged at him, only to be driven back by a series of well-timed parries. Domajor kept his composure all the way, not even a hair out of place on his head.


    "But he understood the dangers of the world better than most, and dedicated a near-equal amount of time to teaching me the blade. My father, you see-"


    A flicker of silver shone in Domajor''s free hand. Essine''s sharpened senses only barely glimpsed the dagger that slid from the inside of Domajor''s sleeve and into his hand. It whistled through the air in the blink of an eye, punching clean through the mask of one assassin and burying to the hilt in his brow. He hit the ground with thud a second later.


    "Was something of a notorious bandit. So now, it seems, I have an ample opportunity to indulge in the ''family business.''"

 Chapter 77 - A Smoking Gun

    Coin had opted to simply use shapeshifting to replace his bloodied clothing when he first returned to Elijah''s home, and he was damn glad of that decision. It made it so much easier to morph his body, not needing to worry about storing his clothes.


    He followed after the Manticores soon after they entered the burned out building, moving through one of the windows on the upper floor. His body morphed as he went along, until he became a shadowy mass that crept quietly about on four angular limbs. All around him was darkness, but he could see lantern light glowing through the floorboards.


    Coin tracked the Manticores quietly, until the floor and walls ahead of him have way. Much of the building, it seemed, was a crumbling wreck. But he was able to quickly scuttle up to the rafters above, and used them as a series of perches from which he could better track the Manticores.


    "Those Brotherhood bastards are crafty, I''ll give them that much," Ladoss said, picking his way through half-rotted furniture. "Adept at hiding in middens and dung heaps. But don''t you dare underestimate them when we''re down here. The old hands are trained, veteran killers. And whatever youngsters they''ve recruited, whether through abduction, trickery, or simply plying them with gold... they''re bound to be well trained too."


    "Aye, Captain," several of the Manticores replied in unison. Even Illyana, Coin noted. She had adapted rather well to her new role, for as displeased as she seemed to be by her surroundings.


    Eventually, Ladoss came to a stop beside the ash-strewn wreck of what had once been a chimney. He clicked his tongue before reach for the back of the brick structure. He groped about for several moments before finding a brick that pressed inward at his touch. The noise of stone grinding against stone echoed through the vacant building.


    Coin peered over the edge of the rafters for a better look, watching as a section of the chimney''s floor slid away to reveal a darkened tunnel. Ladoss'' lantern lit the edge of a few metal rungs, a ladder that descended into pitch blackness.


    "Hard to believe there''s so many underground hideaways in the city," one of the Manticores remarked, hitching his lantern to his belt.


    "There''s an awful lot hidden away in this city," Ladoss said. "Sentinel''s an ancient place. So much of it has been sunken away by the passage of time. Stick close. I''m taking point."


    One by one the Manticores sank into the earth, halos of lantern light being steadily swallowed into the blackness. Once he was alone, Coin clambered down by sinking his claws into the wall. The Manticores, fortunately, made no move to close the tunnel up after them. No doubt it was better to keep the hatch open in case they needed to beat a hasty retreat.


    Coin waited silently for several long moments, hoping to give them a head start, before he too started to climb down into darkness. He would his limbs and torso in as he went, rendering himself into a sleeker, humanoid shape. The tunnel was narrow, crudely hewn into the earth in places.


    Inwardly he had to wonder if there were many other places like his dotted around Sentinel. The prospect worried him more than he cared to admit. In his mind''s eye he could vividly picture goblin hit squads, armed with hand cannons, creeping up from the darkness to murder the enemies of the Brotherhood. And then vanishing just as quickly through some other foxhole.


    By the time he reached the bottom of the ladder, which took a worrying amount of time in and of itself, he found that the lanterns of the Manticores had grown rather distant. Coin dropped low and scuttled after them, barely making a sound.


    The ability to move quietly was one of many evolutionary tricks that mimics had mastered centuries ago. Though the forms they usually chose to adopt were large and cumbersome, they had taught themselves how to creep with feline grace.


    A treasure chest couldn''t well scuttle from room to room if it was making an ungodly racket in the process.


    The Manticores barely made a sound as they went, save for their footfalls and the clanking of their weapons and armour. The noise echoed toward him. None of them said a word.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Was Valle even down here? Coin''s gaze scanned his surroundings, the crumbling stone walls laden with moss and mould. A few wall sconces had been carved into the tunnel, but only a handful of them had been lit. Coin didn''t know if they''d been lit by the Manticores, or if someone had lit them up beforehand.


    He sniffed the air, trying to make out any new human scents in the area. Instead his nose was assaulted by the fetid stench of a sewer, making his blackened flesh wrinkle in disgust. With the air so rife with the stink, he wouldn''t be able to make out any distinct scents from afar.


    Coin fought the urge to growl. Another inconvenience. But this was still the only lead he had to follow at present. And if Valle didn''t turn up this way...


    He narrowed his burning red eyes. He''d find a way to get the bastard.


    The Manticores pressed on, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the city, checking every nook and cranny they could see. Of which there was no shortage. Coin found himself increasingly daunted by the scale of the place, the winding corridors and shaded rooms seeming to stretch on forever.


    Coin clung to the shadows and peered around one corner, watching as the Manticores came to an abrupt halt. They had sprang into action in the blink of an eye, drawing their weapons as footsteps echoed toward them from the darkness.


    A goblin emerged from the shadows, his eyes glinting like two gold coins. "A goblin, down here?" one of the Manticores asked, aiming at it with his sword.


    "Guess there''s some underground tunnels that fed into here from outside Sentinel''s walls. Might be a few of the little bastards around," Ladoss remarked.


    More golden eyes glittered in the pitch, drawing in closer. Goblins, naturally, didn''t need torches to see in the darkness. But their vision adapted quickly to the presence of lanterns and other bright glows.


    Humans had a tendency to give themselves away to goblins from a considerable distance. But Coin couldn''t fault the Manticores for not expecting their presence underground. He certainly hadn''t. Even their scent didn''t stick out amid the humid aroma.


    "Kill ''em quick and let''s move on," Ladoss bluntly remarked.


    One of the Manticores stepped forward, raising his axe overhead. Coin was about to look away, doubtful goblin slaughter was worth watching. But, in that moment, he saw a glint of metal in the darkness as the goblin pulled something out of his grubby cloak.


    A hand cannon.


    The boom of thunder was near deafening in the confines of the tunnel, the flash of black powder briefly lighting the area. One moment the Manticore warrior stood proud. The next, a ball of lead was punching clean through his breastplate as if it were no sturdier than rotten driftwood. Blood and gore erupted from between his shoulder blades.


    The rest of the Manticores started to move, spurred to action as other goblins emerged fully from the darkness with hand cannons of their own.


    Coin''s eyes widened, and he debated what to, only to freeze in shock as Illyana moved to guard her nearest allies. Her claymore swept upward with incredible quickness, almost invisible to the naked eye. Two shots struck off her blade, shattering great chunks off of it, and went wide- embedding in the ground at her feet.


    She hurled her broken blade like a spear, skewering one of their attackers, and hurled herself behind the cover of a most-strewn archway. Other shots echoed in the dark, leaden balls tearing chunks from the stone surroundings.


    "What in damnation are those?!" Ladoss roared, recoiling from a spray of shrapnel that narrowly missed his face. "Tore straight through Gellen''s armour!"


    "Some... some kind of projectile weapon! Like a portable cannon!" Illyana shouted.


    Coin narrowed his eyes, hastily grabbing a pair of falling stones. From where he stood he could see a few of the goblins reloading their hand cannons, carrying small pouches of black powder and leaden balls on their belts. Others, however, only had one shot. They had moved to holster their hand cannons, instead drawing hatchets and cleavers from their belts.


    "Limited resources," he murmured, taking a tighter grip on his makeshift projectiles. Well, they had been damn desperate to get their hands on some black powder.


    Coin took aim and hurled his stones from the shadows, both rocks cleaving through the air. Two of the reloading goblins were smashed into pulp, earning confused snarls and shrieks from their allies.


    "What just-" one of the Manticores exclaimed.


    "Doesn''t matter!" Ladoss burst from behind cover, a crossbow in his hands, and loosed a bolt that skewered the skull of one reloading goblin. Others followed his lead, a hail of bolts cutting down several goblins in the ensuing confusion.


    One of them managed to aim and fire, his shot striking the pauldron of one Manticore and knocking him flat on his ass.


    Coin hurled a few more stones, killing more of the goblins, and then crept further back into the darkness to hide himself. The last thing he needed, or wanted, was to have to fight agents of the Archchancellor. Nor did he want them to catch even a stray glimpse of him.


    One of the goblins, in his haste, threw a handful of smoke pellets to the ground. They exploded in a series of hissing bursts, releasing choking blue smoke to conceal their retreat. They did not bother to take the bodies of their dead, but they did snatch a few of the fallen hand cannons as they went.


    The darkened corridor fell silent, the Manticores keeping to cover for several long, tense moments. Eventually, when all seemed clear, Ladoss moved to the corpse of the nearest goblin and lifted his hand cannon from the ground.


    "What kind of Bleakborn monstrosity is this...?" he murmured.

 Chapter 78 - Freeing the Artisan

    Despite the initial shock of the situation, the Manticores were quick to regroup. Ladoss ordered two of his men to bring the dead back to the tunnel¡¯s exit, and then to venture topside to deliver the hand cannon to the archchancellor.


    They still needed to finish their mission, but if things were to go south they needed someone to spread the word of the situation to Velasco. Coin left them to it, scuttling sneakily into the darkness.


    He moved, initially, like a formless thing. A creature of pulsating grey flesh and angular limbs. He clung to the shadows as if they were an old friend of his, moving with utmost stealth through the tunnels and tributaries that formed a complex underground network.


    His sense of smell, growing sharper and more refined through conscious effort, fixated on the smell of human sweat and the now-familiar tang of black powder. Eventually, as he wound his way closer to those smells, the sound of human conversation drifted toward his ears: An argument.


    ¡°Ser, I implore you, I.. that prototype your men took from me, see reason! It¡¯s far too dangerous to be used! I... th-the hand cannon was bad enough, but this-¡±


    ¡°Shut it, would you?! If you want to keep that head on your shoulders, you¡¯ll do as your told.¡±


    ¡°But-¡±


    ¡°But nothing! Gods... you¡¯re lucky your inventions are useful. Otherwise Lord Bleak would have had you flayed by now.¡±


    Coin came to a halt around a corridor of carved stone, his claws resting atop a large crate. He peered through the gloom to a man clutching a lantern, jabbing his finger at a smaller man through the bars of what appeared to be a prison cell. A hand cannon jangled on the man¡¯s hip, and there was no doubt in Coin¡¯s mind that he was Brotherhood.


    ¡°Now shut up. Something¡¯s going on, and I have to-¡±


    Coin¡¯s tongue lashed out from the darkness, curling around the man¡¯s ankle, and yanked him into the shadows. His lantern fell from his grasp, iron frame clattering on the dusty ground. He was slow and sluggish, only barely drawing his blade before Coin¡¯s colossal jaws crushed down upon him. He sat in the dark for a few moments, digesting his meal.


    The stranger behind the bars squeaked in confusion. ¡°H-Hello? Is someone there? Someone who could... save an unfortunate artisan from his bondage?¡± He gripped the bars and tried to peek out of his cell. But his eyes, weak and human, could see nothing in gloom.


    Coin debated what to do next. Clearly this man was no friend to the Brotherhood, held against is will and all, but helping strangers was something to be a little wary of. Still, he thought, there was a possibility this man had seen something and could give Coin useful information. Reluctantly, he let his body twist ad morph into his clothed, humanoid shape.


    He emerged from the dark, warily watching the stranger.


    ¡°Oh... the gods smile upon me. Please, good ser, release me from this awful cell!¡±


    Slowly, steadily, Coin swept across the windows that had been carved into the wall, and took in the sight of a heavy steel manacle bolted to the man¡¯s right ankle. The chain attached was long enough to encircle the chamber at least twice.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Albus LeBon. Charmed!¡± He strained a smile, mania rife in his eyes. He was desperate to be free, but trying not to vomit that desperation aloud.


    ¡°And... what did you do that got you brought to this place?¡± Coin inspected the door and found it. He shrugged, pulled upon it, and wrenched it from its hinges with a shriek of tearing steel.


    LeBon stared at him for several moments as Coin tossed the heavy door aside. Eventually he decided that he was still entirely sane, and that he didn¡¯t really need to know how this enigmatic young man had done that. It was unimportant in the face of prospective freedom.


    ¡°I am... I¡¯m an inventor, I suppose is the term I prefer to use. But in common parlance I¡¯d be called an artisan,¡± LeBon said, pacing around his strange cell. His chain clinked and rattled with every step he took. It was a sturdy bit of metal, Coin noted. Expertly crafted from high end steel. Certainly excessive for keeping such a scrawny man prisoner. Even with the tools that surrounded him, it would take a long time to cut through. Time for any guard to easily catch him in the act and stop him.


    But being excessive is something of a norm when it comes to prison, be they professional or unprofessional in nature


    ¡°And... what is an artisan exactly?¡± Coin asked, narrowing his eyes. This was something of a distraction, he knew, and he was wasting time on his hunt for Valle. But this situation was so bizarre that he couldn¡¯t help but be intrigued.


    ¡°We make things, to put it bluntly,¡± LeBon said, fidgeting awkwardly with his scarred and bruised hands. ¡°The official mantra of the Artisans Guild is that we are the ¡®architects of the future.¡¯ If it involves the construction or creation of things, particularly things that are unique or special in nature, that is our domain.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°You were imprisoned here to build things for these people?¡±


    LeBon paled slightly. ¡°Unfortunately. I... I did not wish to, obviously, but I¡¯ve seen what they... what these people do to people they deem uncooperative.¡± He shuddered, a particularly gruesome memory stampeding brazenly through his mind. ¡°I have the constitution of a wet paper bag. Wouldn¡¯t last long under torture, you see.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°But, now... now you¡¯re here! I don¡¯t know who you are, but you¡¯re not one of them and that¡¯s more than good enough for yours truly!¡± He flashed Coin a desperate smile.


    Coin grumbled. He wasn¡¯t one with the Brotherhood, the shackle alone made that clear, and he did look about as dangerous as a kitten. And if letting him go would harm the Brotherhood in some way, all the better. He sighed and made his way over, inspecting the chain.


    ¡°Call me Coin,¡± he said.


    ¡°Coin! Wonderful name. Er... Vesidian, is it?¡±


    Coin shrugged. He crouched and gripped the manacle around LeBon¡¯s ankle. ¡°What exactly were you making for them?¡±


    LeBon hesitated, nervous beads of sweat prickling his brow. ¡°W-weapons, I suppose you could say. I¡¯m... I¡¯m loathe to admit it, but I¡¯ve been building weapons for these people.¡±


    A realisation struck Coin, who swept his eyes up to meet LeBon¡¯s own. ¡°Weapons like hand cannons?¡± he sharply asked.


    ¡°My... work is already out there, I see,¡± he murmured. The scrawny man swallowed harshly. ¡°When I first came up with the idea it was... it was a thought experiment, you see. I had seen regular cannons in action and wondered if the principle of their design could be applied at a smaller scale. After many failed prototypes, and many scorched eyebrows, managed to make a cannon that could fit in a man¡¯s hand. I... I envisioned it being a tool for pest control, you know. Rats, sewer serpents, boggarts... Not for killing people.¡±


    Coin narrowed his eyes. Even he thought LeBon was rather foolish if he didn¡¯t expect other people to see the hand cannon as a lethal weapon. ¡°Clearly the Brotherhood didn¡¯t see it that way,¡± he said.


    ¡°No, certainly not. I... spoke of my idea to people at the Artisans Guild, but most folks there don¡¯t take me seriously. They always say my ideas are foolish. Automatons, mechanical limbs... Granted my prototypes have a tendency to, er, explode, but that still doesn¡¯t give them the right to brush me aside.¡± He huffed and shook his head. ¡°Well, regardless, someone must have been paying attention when I spoke of the idea. Only a few days later I was abducted in the dead of night, spirited away to this dreadful place. I¡¯ve been here for months at least.¡±


    Coin snapped the sturdy steel manacle as if it were driftwood, tossing the broken ends away. ¡°Well, you¡¯re free now. So you might want to get moving.¡± The way I came through should be safe. Keep pressing on down those tunnels and you¡¯ll find a ladder to the surface.¡±


    ¡°G-goodness, you¡¯re as strong as an ox!¡± LeBon replied, sweeping a hand through his shaggy hair. ¡°You must be a rather potent wizard. My thanks, Ser Coin! I owe you my life.¡±


    ¡°Well, do me a favour and don¡¯t mention my presence here to anyone. If anybody asks how you got free, just say you saw an opening during the chaos.¡± The man¡¯s inventions were doubtless gong to harm many more people. But, ultimately, Coin could tell he wasn¡¯t malicious at heart. He was a victim in all this, and things would only get worse if they picked his brain for more ideas.


    And, above all else, Elijah would want him to help somebody in need. Just as he often chose to do.


    If he was to be the heir to Elijah¡¯s wealth, then he would need to approach the world as the old man had. To an extent, at least.


    ¡°Of course, of course. A thousand thanks to you.¡± LeBon started for the door, a faint limp to his gait. He paused as he reached the door. ¡°Ser Coin there is... there is something else I should say. Just before you arrived, one of those brutes took another prototype from me.¡±


    Coin paused, turning to face the scrawny man. ¡°Another hand cannon?¡± he asked.


    ¡°No... worse than a hand cannon,¡± LeBon admitted, grimacing like a man who¡¯d just caught his hand in a closing drawer. ¡°Lord Bleak was very insistent that I design a weapon with greater range and accuracy than a hand cannon. I tried to... delay the process. Kept asking for all these special tools for shaping and cutting metal, to make the design I envisioned.¡±


    Coin glanced around the cell, paying attention to the assortment of lathes, drills, and miscellaneous tools on display. It was the kind of collection that most artisans would be elated to be in the presence of, where even they would struggle to name half of tools on offer. Some of them looked more like torture implements than speciality tools.


    ¡°But... I could only delay for so long before the threats of torture became more... pronounced.¡± He lifted his ragged shirt by the hem, exposing faded scars along his back. Such wounds, in the world of the Brotherhood, would not constitute torture. Those injuries would be classed as ¡®a kind word¡¯ to persuade a captive. If a kind word failed, they would progress to ¡®persistent persuasion.¡¯ And if persistent persuasion yielded no results, they would indulge in ¡®stern negotiations.¡¯ Then, if the bruised and bloodied target was still obstinate... then they would move on to torture.


    ¡°What... did you make?¡± Coin warily asked.


    A shaky sigh escaped LeBon, who hastily made for the drawing table at one end of the cell. He sifted through a stack of scrolls, each one covered with a myriad of very technical scribbles.


    Eventually he found the parchment he was looking for, and unfurled it before Coin¡¯s very eyes. It was a strange thing, Coin noted. A long metal tube with a curved wooden rear. It had a small glass circle positioned on top of the barrel, dubbed a ¡®scope¡¯ by one of the many labels written on the page.


    ¡°Mechanically it functions in the exact same way as the hand cannon. You insert a lead ball, and a small amount of black powder, and the use this section here to create an igniting spark when the trigger is pulled,¡± LeBon explained, motioning to different parts of the diagram with a grubby finger. ¡°A person can survive a shot from a hand cannon. Particularly at further range. But a shot from this hits much harder, and stays accurate from a much grander distance. I er... I called it a rifle, owing to the patterns I created when I was rifling about with the barrel.¡±


    ¡°A rifle,¡± Coin murmured. The word carried an odd degree of weight to it.


    ¡°I worry that Lord Bleak has even more destructive aspirations when it comes to my firearms,¡± LeBon said, rolling the parchment up. ¡°The prototype, and the instructions I wrote when I constructed it... that¡¯s all someone would need to make more, provided they have the raw materials to work with. And these people seem to have no shortage of such things.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Coin murmured. ¡°Take that drawing with you to the surface. I¡¯ll deal with that courier if I see him.¡± It was a lower priority to Coin, but still something that should probably be dealt with.


    ¡°Thank you, Ser Coin. You¡¯re a good soul... better than I, certainly.¡± LeBon rolled the sketch under his arm and set off. Coin stood idle until the man¡¯s footsteps fell away into silence. His movements had been slow at first, and then grew frantic when he realised his freedom was finally at hand. The reality of the situation had taken some time to settle in.


    Alone, Coin heaved a small sigh.


    He didn¡¯t really want to get involved in any of this, in truth. But this damn conspiracy... it threatened people close to Coin. And after losing Elijah, he was determined to make sure he lost nobody else. He turned and set off into the darkness, hoping for some trace of Valle Irons.


    In the distance, echoing off the tunnel walls, he could hear the pounding of ironclad boots. More Arcadian soldiers, he was willing to bet. The whole place would be crawling with reinforcements for the Manticores, and soon after the underground would swiftly turn into a battleground.


    He¡¯d have to find Valle soon, and quickly. Lest he slip away in the oncoming chaos.

 Chapter 79. One Monstrous Man

    Ten men had emerged from the darkness to clash blades with Domajor, and all ten had been brought down one by one. Severed limbs were scattered among the floor, while arterial sprays of blood had gushed along the windows and wallpaper.


    A nightmare to clean, certainly. But Domajor was determined to ensure the corpses of his charges would not being among those cleaned up.


    The battle, however, had gradually taken its toll on the butler. Thin scars had been sliced at various points of his suit, the skin beneath slick with blood. His hair, normally pomaded to perfection, was askew. And his chest rose and fell with the kind of exertion a butler was normally never allowed to show.


    It went against etiquette. Most nobles and aristocrats did not like to be reminded that their servants were living, breathing beings.


    Another masked man rushed him, clutching a hatchet in both hands. Essine¡¯s eyes widened, unable to look away from their gleaming, silver edges. Domajor growled and met the man halfway, deflecting two strikes from the man. The flash of sparks from their colliding blades lit up the hallway, illuminating the beastly glower on Domajor¡¯s face.


    ¡°Good grief,¡± Pearl muttered, watching as Domajor batted several strikes away. ¡°All these men dead, and he¡¯s still going strong.¡±


    ¡°Master Domajor could have been a high ranked adventurer, if he wanted. Or a bandit king,¡± Leonid said, grinning excitedly. ¡°We¡¯re quite fortunate that he¡¯s chosen to live his life this way.¡±


    Domajor hopped back, the edge of a hatchet slicing a strip from his waistcoat in passing. His counter was instantaneous, his sword moving so swiftly that Essine didn¡¯t even see the arc of it.


    One moment the assassin was standing erect, the next a great chunk of his torso was sliding away, split diagonally from one shoulder to the opposite hip.


    All fell silent, save for Domajor¡¯s heavy breathing. ¡°Are you all well?¡± he eventually asked.


    They had fallen back to a more defensible position on the ground floor. Elijah¡¯s smoking room, which had never had a single pipe or cigar puffed inside it, was a room with no windows and only one door. Domajor, in the hall beyond, had been more than capable of fending off any assassins who showed their face.


    ¡°Such a sizeable group,¡± Essine murmured. ¡°All these people, sent to kill Coin.¡± It would have seemed excessive, certainly. Did they send a large group just to be certain they could get him? Had they heard of his magical potential, and were approaching the situation with due caution? Or... Essine swallowed harshly. Did they know about Coin¡¯s true nature?


    ¡°I believe... that should be the last of them.¡± Domajor clenched his teeth as he stood upright. ¡°But... goodness, that was close. Those men were... all rather well trained. Not just street trash.¡± He reached into his jacket and produced a handkerchief, which he promptly used to dab the sweat and blood from his brow. A stray blow had nicked his forehead. The cut hadn¡¯t been deep, but the blood had been plentiful.


    ¡°You were phenomenal, Master Domajor!¡± Leonid exclaimed, hurrying over. ¡°You fought like you had the Goddess herself guiding your blade!¡±


    ¡°I would hope the Goddess did not want me getting cut at all. Unless these wounds were her attempt to keep me humble, Leonid.¡±


    ¡°This one shall go and get bandages for you,¡± Essine said, making for the door.


    ¡°And this one,¡± Pearl let go of the poker she had been holding onto for dear life, letting it clatter to the ground. ¡°Shall sit down before she has a heart attack.¡±


    ¡°It would be unwise to go off on your own right now, Lady Essine,¡± Domajor said. ¡°Until we know for certain that this home is secure.¡±


    ¡°But you said that was the last of them!¡± Pearl groaned.


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    ¡°I said I believed it was the last of them, Lady Pearlovska. But I cannot be certain. They sent a considerable group here, and this is a large estate. It¡¯s possible there were others who split off from the main-¡±


    A floorboard creaked somewhere down the hall.


    In the pervading silence of the night, it was louder than the strike of a sledgehammer.


    All the fatigue in Domajor¡¯s body seemed to vanish in an instant. He went from slouching to standing ramrod straight, his blade clutched firmly in his right hand. His eyes, Essine noted, had the steely gaze of a veteran killer. A look she had seen from humans in the past, who thought of killing kobolds in the same way they thought of washing their hands: a simple task to be done efficiently.


    Essine, against her better judgement, moved to the doorway for a better look.


    A man rounded the corner, and he was perhaps the largest man Essine had ever seen in her life. Her eyes widened as she examined all seven feet of him, dressed and masked as his cohorts had been. Yet, unlike them, his skin was ashen grey, as if all the pigmentation had been sucked from it. In his hand he held a great warhammer, which seemed no larger than a carpentry tool in his massive fingers.


    ¡°Hrm.¡±


    Domajor glared at the newcomer. ¡°You can see that I¡¯ve killed your cohorts,¡± he growled. ¡°I must politely ask that you leave. Lest I kill you too.¡±


    The giant stared at him. It was not, Essine quickly realised, the stance of a man sizing up an opponent. It was more like the look a wild animal would sport while sizing up prospective prey. A growl rose in his throat, like stone grinding on stone.


    He broke into a sprint, charging toward Domajor.


    The half-elf, in turn, lunged to meet him halfway. The flat of his blade blocked an incoming swing, the force of the blow sending Domajor skidding backward. He grunted and braced himself. Another strike hit his blade, driving Domajor into a window.


    The glass was far sturdier than normal glass, the craftsmen boasting that it was borderline shatterproof. A cobweb of cracks spread out when Domajor¡¯s shoulder struck against it.


    ¡°Master Domajor!¡± Leonid cried. He snapped his right hand upward, rings of light glittering along his index and middle fingers. Thin beams shot from his digits and struck the giant in his forearm, the stricken flesh blackening and smoking. The giant grunted and glanced to his arms, seeming to only barely register the burning skin.


    Domajor grit his teeth and swung at his foe. But the giant was quicker than he looked, weaving around several slashes. The tip of Domajor¡¯s blade brushed his arms more than once, opening thin scars that seeped blackened blood.


    His skin, Domajor couldn¡¯t help but note in the back of his mind, was nearly as tough as stone,


    He ducked under a swing of the taller man¡¯s hammer and swept a slash toward his throat. The blade missed his neck by a scant inch. The hammer swung down, set to crush Domajor into a fine paste. He jumped back grimacing as the sculpted head smashed a great hole in the floor.


    Domajor countered quickly, a desperate sweep of his sword aiming to sever one of the giant¡¯s wrists. The towering man pulled his arms back, the edge grazing his forearm and leaving a long, thin slice in his skin. Undaunted, Domajor pressed forward and whipped a slash at his foe¡¯s stomach. This time he hooked the man¡¯s shirt and sliced it clean off in a single stroke. The flesh beneath was dark and scaly, save for a craggy line of orange that ran up the middle of his chest.


    Whatever this man was, Essine had never seen his like before.


    A gnarled fist swept upward, catching Domajor in the side and flinging him backward. He skidded across the carpeted floor, a pained wheeze rising in his throat. The giant was over him in an instant, and Domjaor had to brace his blade against the rough, resounding impactsof his hammer.


    ¡°Master Domajor! D-damnit all, my magic is no use against that thick hide!¡± Leonid cried.


    Essine tensed where she stood. Leonid couldn¡¯t do much, but perhaps she could? A strange gnawing sensation blossomed in her breast, radiating toward her extremities. A void of ice cold nothingness that chilled her veins.


    It was clear Domajor wouldn¡¯t last long. And if he fell, they wouldn¡¯t be far behind him.


    But more than that... more than that, Essine had lost enough people to last several lifetimes.


    ¡°Oh Goddess, we¡¯re doomed,¡± Pearl whispered.


    Essine raised her right hand, a sickly green glow radiating from her body. ¡°No,¡± she said, a degree of steel lining her words. ¡°No more.¡± The erebite bristled at her power, like a chunk of ice from coldest Thallborea. ¡°Keep behind me!¡±


    A wave of green light flashed from her fingertips, like the glow of a torch. She aimed high, hoping to avoid catching Domajor with Sheol¡¯s deathlight. There was no sound or sense of impact as it struck the scaly giant, but the effect was undeniable. A horrid shriek rose in the man¡¯s throat, his skin wrinkling and furrowing, muscles being sucked inward like rotting fruit.


    He thrashed and flailed, turning to face Essine all too late. Rot tore through him, down to the marrow of his bones. One arm fell from the socket, a shrivelled husk, while his chest had shank so much that his ribcage was poking through in vivid detail.


    Essine could only maintain the glow for a handful of seconds, and lowered her hand as the fatigue threatened to overwhelm her. She swayed on her feet, gasping as she fell into Pearl¡¯s arms. ¡°G-good grief... that witch wasn¡¯t exaggerating. Such power... you... you did wonderful, my lass.¡±


    The giant wasn¡¯t dead. Shrivelled into a shadow of his former self, he could scarcely stand. Not could he even lift the hammer clutched in his remaining hand. Domajor, untouched, swept upward and shaved his head from his shoulders in a single stroke.


    Domajor huffed and fell to one knee, his whole body trembling from a potent cocktail of pain and exertion. ¡°Blast,¡± he huffed.


    The giant¡¯s corpse did not fall. It stood in place, like a half-melted statue.


    ¡°Damnable monster... what could create something so beastly?¡± He forced himself to his feet with considerable effort and slowly strode toward the others. His tired eyes fell on Essine. ¡°And what in the world... was that strange magic that flew from Lady Essine?¡±

 Chapter 80 - A Bloody Vengeance

    Chaos had rapidly descended upon the Brotherhood¡¯s bolthole. As soon as the goblin scouts returned, jabbering about seeing a squad of humans attacking them, two teams had been set up. One to hastily move or destroy any valuables that Velasco¡¯s forces could make use of. The other was expected to reinforce the perimeter as best they could, flanked by the rest of the goblins.


    It had not taken long for the Manticores to make their move, now flanked by reinforcements assembled from the city guard and Arcadian army. Bolts flew, blades clashed, and explosions of black powder threatened to bring the roof down around everyone.


    In the chaos, Valle Irons felt it was the best chance he was going to get to slip away.


    Nobody had seen him leave his chambers, too engrossed with their own business to pay any focus to his wretched frame. And it would be easy to believe he had been killed in the fighting. All he had to do after getting to the surface was retrieve his hidden stash of wealth, and then he could flee Arcadia and make a fresh start elsewhere.


    After all, what hope did he have for a normal life in Arcadia now? No doubt word had spread far and wide that he¡¯d been the one who killed Elijah, meaning Velaco¡¯s headsman would be waiting for him. And that story he¡¯d given Askyr had been his final resort. Once they found the casks of black powder the last king had hidden away (part of a mad scheme to wipe out swathes of Sentinel he had a personal disdain for) his usefulness would run out, and Leona would kill him on the spot.


    This was his only chance to live. And he wa going to grab that chance by the short and curlies, and pull with everything he had.


    ¡°Eldergard,¡± he huffed. ¡°Eldergard for... for a few weeks. Yes. Nice and safe there. Lots of money to be made in that godless land. And then... then I can go south to somewhere warm and obscure. Asere, o-or the city states in Brohme. Yes, wonderful.¡± He¡¯d been muttering words to that effect for several minutes now, regularly changing the possible destinations he could head for.


    The sound of clashing blades and screaming men echoed from somewhere behind him, gradually growing closer.


    He¡¯d been pressing through a narrow tunnel, illuminated solely by a stolen lantern in his hand, when a voice reached his ear. ¡°Nice plan. Unfortunately for you, they¡¯re never going to come to pass. Because you¡¯re going to die down here.¡±


    Valle spun around, the sweat on his face shining in the glow of his lantern. At the far end of the tunnel behind him, a figure was slowly approaching him. Valle raised his lantern for a better look, and paled as Coin emerged from the gloom.


    ¡°You... you¡¯re Elijah¡¯s apprentice.¡±


    ¡°And heir. Thanks to you,¡± Coin replied, watching Valle with an intense gaze. The sight of those eyes sent a strange shudder through Valle''s body.


    More than once, when he was only starting out, he¡¯d had to do many jobs over the mountains of Eldergard. And, on one particularly terrible job, he and his guards had become trapped by a blizzard. On that dreadful night, the wolves had found them. They fought them off, narrowly, but Valle never once forgot the eyes of that head wolf leading the pack. That burning intensity that had pierced his very soul.


    Coin had eyes just like those. The gaze of a merciless predator.


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    In a panic, Valle reached for his belt and quickly pulled a dirk free. He¡¯d stolen it during his escape, figuring that he needed a weapon that was both lethal and easy to conceal. Just in case.


    ¡°You... you keep back, you hear me?!¡± he snapped.


    Coin took a step forward, not even looking at his dagger. ¡°Why did you do it?¡± he asked. ¡°Why did you kill him? Elijah was your friend. Someone who trusted you a great deal. And you took his life. Why?¡± It wasn¡¯t just some rhetorical question, there was genuine fascination in his voice. And white hot anger, of course.


    ¡°He... he got in the way! He shouldn¡¯t have been such a damn do-gooder, and just looked the other way!¡± Valle took an uncertain step backward. The knife quivered in his hand. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to! He forced my hand!¡±


    ¡°Forced your...¡± Coin paused in place. He sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. I can¡¯t understand. And maybe that¡¯s a good thing.¡±


    His right hand shot forward, his forearm erupting into a stream of unwinding and elongating sinews. Valle didn¡¯t even have time to comprehend what he was looking at before a vicelike grip caught him by the collar and slammed him into the wall. Valle hissed, stabbing at the tendril-like arm in a desperate bid to break free. A portion of that alien mass spread outward, coiled around the blade of the dirk, and tossed it aside. It was no threat to Coin, of course, but he didn¡¯t want Valle to feel he had even a minute chance of escaping.


    Coin drew closer to the man, narrowing his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m a mimic,¡± he growled.


    Valle¡¯s jaw hung slightly ajar. ¡°W-what?¡±


    ¡°A mimic. A shapeshifter who eats people. I try, these days, to only eat people who deserve it. Bad people, criminals, murderers, people who try to hurt me or those close to me.¡± He fixed Valle with a nasty sneer, exposing rows of sharpened teeth. ¡°But I don¡¯t want any of your filth anywhere in my biomass. I just want you to die.¡±


    ¡°E-Elijah... Elijah wouldn¡¯t want you to do that! W-wouldn¡¯t want you seeking revenge!¡± Valle wailed, great beads of sweat falling from his brow.


    ¡°Maybe he wouldn¡¯t. Who can say?¡± Coin pulled the man closer. Thin tendrils of woven flesh snaked around to encircle Valle¡¯s head, holding it firmly in place to keep him from breaking eye contact. ¡°He¡¯s not here to tell us, is he?¡±


    He slammed Valle into the wall. Then he did so again. And again. And again. His expression never shifted. He did not rage, or cry, or scream, as he did so. Valle was much less taciturn, though his pained screams and sobs were soon drowned out by gargling rushes of blood that raced to flood his throat.


    Coin whipped his arm too and fro until Valle¡¯s howls faded into nothingness. Until the man in his grasp was little more than a sack of broken bones and pulverised meat. Until the blood and brain matter had smeared across the wall.


    And once Valle was dead, beyond any semblance of doubt, Coin unceremoniously dumped his body against the cave wall. He stared at the ruined remains of Valle¡¯s flesh, his expression a dull mask. He wound his arm back into its normal shape, his expression unchanging all the while.


    He didn¡¯t feel any better.


    Nor did he feel worse.


    As he stared down at Valle Irons¡¯ mortal remains, he didn¡¯t feel much of anything.


    ¡°Why did you take him away from me?¡± Coin asked. There was nobody around to answer.


    Coin didn¡¯t stir, not even as armoured footsteps started echoing his way. A figure skidded to a halt a few paces from where Coin stood, panting for breath.


    ¡°C-Coin?¡±


    He turned to the source of the voice, and found himself staring at a dumbstruck Illyana. Her eyes darted from Coin, to the pulverized corpse at his feet. ¡°That¡¯s... Valle Irons...¡± she mumbled. Though it took her some time to make out anything legible about the smashed figure.


    ¡°It is...¡± Coin admitted.


    ¡°You... were you the one who-?¡± Her mouth hung open in disbelief. She knew Coin had some fighting ability, but this was... pure butchery. The shock of it was so great that she didn¡¯t even think to ask how he had ended up down here.


    Coin turned away from the elf and slowly strode for the mouth of the tunnel. Valle had been racing this way, after all. There had to be a way out somewhere nearby. Indeed, when he sniffed the air, the scents of the city were increasingly breaking through the gloom of the underground. All he had to do was follow his nose to safety.


    ¡°W-wait! Where are you going?¡±


    ¡°Home,¡± Coin replied.


    Illyana took an uncertain step forward. ¡°You can¡¯t just-¡±


    He turned to look her in the eye. ¡°He killed Elijah,¡± he simply said. That was the only thing that needed to be said. The mimic turned and stalked into the shadows, until they swallowed him whole.


    Illyana watched him go. And despite her her horrified curiosity, she couldn¡¯t bring herself to follow after him.

 Chapter 81 - Down She Goes

    Coin¡¯s steady striding led him to a makeshift bridge forged from stone and wood, positioned over a great chasm that stretched down into impenetrable shadows. Lanterns had been hung from the sides of the bridge, providing some modest measure of illumination.


    ¡°Had a feeling you¡¯d come,¡± Leona said, her voice echoing his way from the darkness.


    Coin stopped in place, his expression unchanging. He said nothing, watching as the woman emerged from the shadows. ¡°Come to... settle affairs, as it were.¡±


    ¡°Valle is dead,¡± Coin replied. ¡°He was the one I was after. You and your plans? I don¡¯t particularly care. But I¡¯d advise you to get out of my way, all the same.¡±


    ¡°Dead huh? No big loss. I was coming back to off him myself anyhow. Little prick had outlived his usefulness.¡± Leona emerged from the shadows, twirling a blade in one hand. In the other she held a large jar of some alchemical oil, glowing green in the lantern light. ¡°You¡¯re a possible threat to the plan, is the thing. A monster like you running around? Who knows how much more dangerous you could become. Plus...¡±


    Their eyes met. Coin grimaced.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like leaving a fight unresolved. You slipped away from me outside of Charnyll. Then I ran from you the other night. Beating you? It¡¯s a matter of pride for me now.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll die,¡± Coin told her plainly. His head was still a mess after dealing with Valle, and he was in no mood to even contemplate mercy. Giving Leona a chance to leave was all he could muster.


    ¡°Hasn¡¯t happened to me yet.¡± She stroked her blade across the lip of the bottle, smearing it in that strange green oil.


    She was behind him in a flash, air puffing behind Coin from the sudden distortion. He spun around and tried to push back just as her blade whirled his way. He already knew her strength was inhuman, able to cleave a tree trunk in a single stroke. Thus he rendered the meat of his arms many times stronger as he tried to block.


    The edge still thudded into his right forearm, sinking a few inches into the flesh. But the real damage came from the hissing green fluid, which immediately started to gnaw at Coin¡¯s arm like a colony of carnivorous ants. He howled and leaped away, smoke hissing from his fresh wound. The skin around the wound became gnarled and blackened, like wood from a spent campfire.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°You like that?¡± Leona asked. ¡°I figure, between your toughness and shapeshifting, it would be foolish not to equip myself to dampen those abilities.¡±


    Something alchemical in nature, Coin noted. A powerful substance, designed to mutilate flesh. He grit his teeth, willing the blackened meat to crumble away. The wound closed up, eating further into his reserves of biomass.


    With great effort he began to weave the meat on his arms into a different shape, coating them in ivory scales that were harder than bone. The liquid would likely still melt through this makeshift armour, but with greater effort.


    Her blade whipped out, nearly a dozen slashes thrown in the blink of an eye. Coin reeled, dodging a few of the slashes. But he was forced to block a few against his forearms, grimacing as the strange acid ate into his flesh. A toothy tendril whipped from his back, aiming for Leona¡¯s face. She vanished in a flash of silver, reappearing right behind him.


    Coin turned, his eyes widening as he found himself staring down the barrel of a freshly drawn hand cannon. The flash was blinding, and the ball bearing cleaved a chunk of his skull away. Coin hissed, his tendril thrashing about and striking Leona away from him.


    Half his head was smoking as he sought to reassemble it, and Coin found himself swaying off balance. Leona rushed him while he was still recovering, sprinting almost as fast as a speeding bullet. She raised her blade, the tip aimed low, and suddenly speared it into Coin¡¯s right thigh.


    A pained shriek echoed through the cavern, and Coin was nearly bowled over as his legs threatened to buckle under him. In that moment he knew Leona was no stranger to killing mimics. She had clearly been aiming for his core, striking a spot she assumed Coin would try to hide his. It was just pure luck that Leona aimed for the wrong thigh.


    Spikes of bone exploded from his body, the sharpened tips grazing Leona¡¯s limbs and drawing blood. She skidded back, gritting her teeth and taking a firmer grip on her blade. In that brief opening, Coin¡¯s core slid down toward his heel.


    Coin glared at her in the dark, half his face still a smoking skull steadily being reclaimed by meat. He¡¯d fought adventurers before his evolution, and had seen a handful of them who had trained their bodies far beyond normal human limitations. Leona was just like those freaks of nature, having honed herself into a weapon from head to toe.


    But Coin had evolved beyond his own limitations too. He was as far removed from the mimics Leona had killed in the past, as Leona was to a normal person on the streets of Sentinel.


    He raised his arms and took aim, blasting two spirals of wind at the redhead, the power of the breeze strong enough to slice the stone of the makeshift bridge. Leona smirked and jumped high, her gaze meeting his own. Already the air around her was starting to shimmer, her body preparing to teleport again.


    As he glared at her, the skin on the back of his neck furrowed and opened to reveal a new eyeball. Coin thrust his hands forward, kicking up a great gale that sought to sweep her off her feet. Leona grinned, vanishing in another flash of silver light.


    The instant she appeared before him, she found herself staring at Coin¡¯s newly grown eye. Panic gripped her, briefly, as Coin¡¯s tentacle lashed out and whipped her across the face. It was a dense thing, heavier than a human body, and was lashed with the kind of force that would shatter a normal man. A crack of bone echoed through the chasm, something breaking under the immense force of the blow, and Leona was sent silently tumbling into the blackness below until the shadows swallowed her utterly.


    Coin stood in the darkness for some time, wondering how deep that hole went, waiting to see if Leona would reappear. She did not. The woman was dangerous, but he had hit her pretty damn hard. Even that inhuman toughness of hers had a limit.


    He heaved a sigh, pulled himself back together, and pressed on toward the surface.

 Chapter 82 - Home At Last

    It was dark by the time Coin made it back to Elijah¡¯s estate, by which point the numbing aches of his battle had fully subsided, and he was greeted to a sight that immediately made his heartbeat quicken: A coterie of guards standing to attention just outside, hurriedly conversing and gesturing to the mansion.


    But what was most worrying was the presence of a modest stack just off to one side of the gates. Humanoid figures, frozen in death, each one covered by a long sheet of fabric.


    A dreadful image popped into Coin¡¯s mind, the fear of losing his other friends looming large in his mind. And it was only by the barest threads of logic that he managed to keep himself from overreacting.


    One of the guards who made up the modest crowd, a slovenly fellow who would hardly be trusted to go on an important raid under the city, perked up as Coin approached. ¡°Er, ser, you can¡¯t-¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my house,¡± Coin said, in a tone like brittle ice.


    Another guard nudged his companion. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve seen this fella around Arcadia. The slim dark-haired kid who hung around old Elijah. He¡¯s the one who inherited all this.¡±


    The first guard paled. ¡°Damn. You were lucky you were out when all thus happened. You could have gotten hurt.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡± Coin asked, his unblinking eyes focused on the pile of covered bodies.


    ¡°A group of assassins attacked your home.¡± Coin¡¯s heart threatened to lurch into his throat, and it felt for a moment as if the world was about to collapse under his feet. ¡°Damn good thing none of the people inside were killed by the attackers.¡±


    Coin blinked to attention. ¡°W-what?¡± He nearly collapsed with relief, much of the tension deflating from his shoulders. ¡°Then these are all the assassins? But.. how?¡±


    ¡°Master Coin!¡± Leonid¡¯s voice cut through the air like a knife, and Coin swiftly turned to face the young butler. He emerged, with Domajor leaning on his side for support. The taller man looked like he¡¯d only barely won a fight with a meatgrinder. ¡°Thank goodness...¡±


    ¡°Leonid, Domajor, what... how did...¡±


    Domajor sighed, closing his eyes. ¡°Those brutes made quite a mess of your home, Ser. Dying was too great a mercy for them.¡± A few cuts marred his finely tailored suit, revealing bloodied flesh beneath.


    ¡°You.. did this? You protected everyone?¡±


    ¡°Such is my job, Ser. To protect the home, and all who dwell within. Though I cannot claim victory alone. Lady Essine... ah, it¡¯s perhaps not my place to say.¡±


    ¡°Essine?¡± He sniffed the air, and was relieved when he picked up on Essine¡¯s scent not too far from where he stood. ¡°Thank you, Domajor, truly. You¡¯ll be getting paid extra.¡± He moved past the two and made his way up the garden path, just as a temple healer arrived to tend Domajor¡¯s wounds.


    He found Pearl and Essine seated on a bench outside, the bard gently brushing Essine¡¯s fur. The kobold was in one piece, but she seemed exceptionally tired. She perked up a tad as Coin approached, her ears standing to attention.


    ¡°Well!¡± Pearl said. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t believe the day we¡¯ve had.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°You¡¯re... all okay? Truly?¡± Coin asked.


    ¡°Save for Domajor. He took several blows keeping us safe. This one is certain he will be fine, but he will need time to recover.¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t strike me as the type,¡± Coin admitted.


    ¡°Nor I. But apparently his father was some dreadful criminal, who imparted an abundance of lethal skills onto him. One can¡¯t argue with results.¡±


    Coin closed his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m... I¡¯m sorry. If I hadn¡¯t been away for so long, I could have helped you.¡± Who had done this, he asked himself? The Brotherhood? Had they come here looking for him? A grim thought gnawed at the back of his mind. After all, Leona knew full well what he was.


    Elijah¡¯s death, and the subsequent fallout, had distracted him from that fact. But it was all too likely news of his true nature had been spread among their ranks. He tried not to dwell on that fact. He had more pressing concerns.


    ¡°It¡¯s not as if you could have predicted this, Coin. Still... might be wise to beef up security around here, yes?¡± Pearl said, glancing around the estate.


    ¡°This one doubts they will make the same type of attack twice. Indeed, the deaths of their assassins will likely give them considerable pause.¡±


    Coin stroked his chin in thought. ¡°Essine... did you use your magic?¡± he asked.


    The kobold hesitated, her ears lowering and her whiskers twitching. ¡°This one had to. The coldness, the emptiness of it... the sensation truly is dreadful. Yet this one is glad. The power, while profane, can be used for good. Scylla said as much.¡± She sighed, silently inspecting the backs of her hands. ¡°This one doubts she will ever strive for combat. But this one must learn to grasp this power. To protect those this one holds dear.¡±


    Coin smiled sadly. ¡°Guess we all have to do our part here.¡± Inwardly, rage bristled at his conscious thoughts like a rolling thundercloud. Those people had come here to kill him, there wasn¡¯t a doubt in his mind that that was the case. And while the assassins themselves were dead, the people who had ordered the hit were out there somewhere.


    And those who had conspired to harm his friends... he¡¯d hunt them with the same tenacity he had used to deal with Valle Irons. They were all dead men living on borrowed time.


    But, for now, Coin chose not to focus on that. He had burned through enough anger for one day. The fact that his friends were all alive was good enough to put a smile on his face, and he let that sense of relief swiftly wash over his body.


    ¡°I¡¯m proud of you. All of you.¡±


    Essine smiled, glancing away from him. ¡°This one... this one did not do anything special.¡±


    ¡°You saved all our lives. Don¡¯t be so modest!¡± Pearl said, letting out a hearty chuckle. ¡°I was a coward throughout. But, then again, I¡¯m no fighter.¡±


    ¡°Nothing to be ashamed of,¡± Coin said. He set a hand on each woman¡¯s shoulders. ¡°But I¡¯ll do everything I can to keep you lot safe, going forward. I can¡¯t always be beside you, however. So...¡± His eyes drifted to Essine. ¡°I know it¡¯s probably not pleasant, but you¡¯ll need to practice with your magic. Just in case.¡±


    Essine nodded stiffly. ¡°But this type of magic seems incredibly rare. Where could this one even hope to learn more?¡±


    Coin thought about it for a moment. ¡°Scylla the witch?¡± he eventually asked.


    ¡°Ah. The sinister, spooky woman,¡± said Pearl.


    In truth, Scylla was a mystery herself. Coin had no doubt she knew far more than she was letting on, and had her own motivation. But, at the very least, she seemed to be on their side. For the time being, that was good enough for Coin.


    Was she still watching them in secret? He wouldn¡¯t put it past her.


    But there were worse people to be stalked by, he supposed.


    Essine nodded to herself. Her own thoughts were much the same, regarding Scylla as more of an ally than a threat. But, well aware that tat assessment could sharply change depending on what Scylla¡¯s true intentions were.


    ¡°Danger will follow us all the same. This one needs to learn to use this magic, horrible as it may be. So, if we meet Scylla again... she is one to consult.¡± She looked around herself frantically, as if expecting the witch to emerge from the darkness. ¡°Another time, perhaps.¡±


    Coin smiled, despite himself. He knew things would get worse before they got better, but at least they were starting to prepare for that eventuality.


    ¡°Well then,¡± Pearl said, planting her hands on her hips. ¡°What next from here?¡±


    Essine¡¯s ears flattened. ¡°This chaos may have uprooted our plans a little, but... I believe Elijah¡¯s funeral is soon,¡± she said.


    ¡°Ah...¡± Coin turned away from the duo, his gaze affixed to the looming shape of the mansion. Elijah¡¯s legacy in this world. ¡°Yeah. We can¡¯t keep putting that off forever, huh?¡±


    He understood the importance of funerals, culturally, at least to a degree. It was a sort of ¡®goodbye¡¯ to the departed, and Pearl had said it would be good for closure. But, in truth, Coin doubted he would ever understood closure with what had transpired.


    Even with Valle dead, smashed to a pulp, he felt no better about Elijah¡¯s passing. He wanted him back more than words could describe. But he knew, full well, that it was impossible.


    Giving him some kind of farewell was the best he could hope for.

 Chapter 83 - For a Friend

    Funerals, in the Arcadian tradition, entailed long sermons in the name of the Goddess, conducted in the rear garden of Sentinel¡¯s main temple. It was a large, looming structure with a myriad of silver spires, cutting a jagged shape among the other buildings in Hightown.


    Much of the theology went over Coin¡¯s head, and likely would have even if he was in the mood to pay more attention to the preacher. It was all so much twaddle about immortal souls, and the loving embrace of the Goddess, and how mortals should always strive to emulate the Goddess. More than once, the preacher went into what he referred to as an ¡®Epistle.¡¯


    Which was, apparently, a section from the holy texts that relayed a letter written by ancient holy men. These, in turn, described similar lessons about worship, and godliness, and how righteous men were assured the comfort of the Goddess in the Hereafter.


    Whenever Coin tuned back in to listen, the more absurd he found the whole thing to be. He doubted the man speaking had known Elijah at all, and it certainly didn¡¯t seem that way from how sparingly he referenced the old man between his readings of scripture.


    Coin, instead, focused his attention on the great pyre that had been erected behind the preacher, upon which sat Elijah¡¯s body. His body had been cleaned and prepared by an undertaker, and dressed in a crisp white suit. Save for how pale he was, there was no sign of rot or decay in his flesh. But it was still eerie to look upon the man who had been so jovial and full of life now stiff as a statue, all traces of ¡®himself¡¯ having vanished.


    Coin had seen countless dead bodies over the years. But it was only now, faced fully with the death of someone he knew and cared for, that he stopped to understand the difference between a live body and a dead one.


    Finally, once the ceremony was over and the pyre set alight, Coin began to rise from his seat. The other visitors, wealthy members of the city¡¯s upper crust did the same. They offered prayers to Elijah¡¯s passing, but Coin remained mum on the subject.


    The minister told them all to go in peace, and Coin knew he would be given a diamond made from Elijah¡¯s ashes in the coming days. This was, apparently, the norm in Arcadia.


    Grass crunched underfoot as they made for the outer gate of the temple, the rest of the funeral filing out as a long black column. Few people spoke to Coin, offering him vague platitudes and condolences for Elijah¡¯s passing. They had no idea who Coin was, only that he was Elijah¡¯s enigmatic heir. Essine¡¯s presence didn¡¯t gladden them either.


    But Coin had insisted that she attend. And anyone who took offence to her presence, they were welcome to take up their concerns with him. Nobody saw fit to do so.


    ¡°Well, it was a lovely ceremony,¡± Pearl said, speaking in a hushed voice.


    ¡°You think so?¡± Coin said.


    ¡°Oh yes. Most folks would kill to have their rites conducted at this temple, and the preacher had everyone hanging on his words. It was the kind of dignified send off owed to a man of Elijah¡¯s standing.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Coin shrugged. ¡°I suppose.¡± He¡¯d take Pearl¡¯s word for it, she was the expert when it came to society. And, ultimately, his mind was far removed from the funeral. He was focused on what was to come. What was he to do now?


    He had Elijah¡¯s wealth, but what could he do with it? In the past he would have ben content to simply hoard it all. Yet it was Elijah¡¯s money. And he perhaps expected Coin to do grand things with it. Or, at least, to do something with it.


    ¡°Your little friend is right. This was a fine ceremony. Exactly what the old man deserved.¡±


    Coin turned to face the semi-familiar voice. A stocky man in a finely tailored black coat, flanked by a towering dark-skinned swordswoman. ¡°Ashur Clyde,¡± Coin murmured.


    ¡°Hm. Kind of you to remember me. Alas, I¡¯ve forgotten your name entirely.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Coin,¡± he replied, narrowing his eyes.


    ¡°Ah. Of course.¡± Ashur offered him a fake smile, folding his hands together.


    Pearl and Essine gave the newcomer a wary glance. ¡°Who in the Bleak is this creep?¡± she murmured.


    ¡°Ashur was Elijah¡¯s apprentice before me. But then he betrayed the old man, usurped his business out from under him,¡± Coin said. ¡°Surprised you decided to come out here.¡±


    Ashur shrugged. ¡°I cared for Elijah, I truly did. Yes, I usurped his throne while he was wracked with grief, but somebody had to step up and take control. Otherwise the Venture Company would have utterly collapsed.¡±


    ¡°Clearly you were torn up by your decision,¡± Coin flatly said.


    Ashur let out a small grunt. ¡°I would not expect you to understand the reality of business. Honestly... what did the old man see in a hick like you?¡±


    Coin didn¡¯t rise to the bait. Ordinarily he might have felt angry at the disrespect. But, here and now, he was too lost in his own grief to get that fired up.


    ¡°What in the world do you want? Are you really such a boor that you¡¯d pick a fight at a funeral?¡± Pearl asked.


    ¡°Perish the thought. But I believe Ser Coin deserves some... scrutiny,¡± said Ashur. ¡°The old man was with you when he died, was he not? Seems responsibility for his safety should have fallen on your shoulders, Coin. And you failed him.¡±


    That snapped Coin to attention, his body growing tense. Veins blossomed briefly on the sides of his neck, obscured by his collar. He took a step forward. Yasuko, Ashur¡¯s bodyguard, stepped toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder... and found she could not budge Coin an inch.


    ¡°Choose your words carefully,¡± Coin firmly said.


    Essine placed a hand on his other shoulder, making Coin¡¯s resolve waiver just a tad. ¡°Please,¡± Essine softly said. ¡°Do not sully the ceremony with violence.¡±


    Coin swallowed hard. Ashur watched him impassively, undaunted by the potential threat of Coin¡¯s strength. ¡°The old man chose to leave his wealth in your hands. What a bewildering choice. Come along, Yasuko. We have business to tend to.¡±


    Coin stood back to watch them go, gritting his teeth. ¡°Did you send men to rob us?¡± he called out.


    ¡°What¡¯s that now?¡± Ashur stopped walking, but did not look back to meet Coin¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°When we got the contract from Lady Greatglow, you were pretty damn mad. And I know there were people outside of Sentinel waiting to rob us. Did you send them?¡±


    Pearl and Essine gave Coin an uncertain look. Pearl, in particular, looked very confused.


    ¡°I should hope you¡¯re not making unfounded accusations toward me, my friend. It¡¯s rather unbecoming, you know.¡± He still didn¡¯t look back, but his shoulders had grown stiff. ¡°Tread lightly, going forward.¡± He trod off, flanked by Yasuko.


    Coin grit his teeth, fighting every dark impulse that raced in his mind. Anger pulsed through him, a fury that simmered under his skin.


    That bastard stole from Elijah and got away with it. Betrayed the old man, no matter what pretty language he used to describe his side of things. The company Elijah built staying in his hands, Elijah¡¯s true legacy, that thought made his stomach churn. Something had to be done about that, he reckoned. But, in the meantime, he¡¯d need to watch and see if Ashur made a move against him.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Coin said, glancing to his companions. ¡°Let¡¯s head home.¡±

 Chapter 84 - A Post Mortem

    Archchancellor Velasco stared silently at the overgrown corpse resting atop the mortician¡¯s slab. The great skeletal husk was vaguely humanoid in shape, but the proportions had been warped, elongated, and twisted into something that was like a malformed parody of a human. Those deformities had been rendered all the more striking by whatever queer magic had killed the creature, scorching and shrivelling his muscles.


    ¡°This is the body,¡± Velasco said, his expression flat and unreadable. ¡°Yes. Certainly unlike anything I¡¯ve ever seen before.¡± He folded his hands behind his back.


    ¡°Yes, milord. We had people scouring the royal medical archives, as you said, but we found nothing reflective of this physiology. The magic that killed it withered it in such a way that autopsy was even difficult than we would have expected.¡± He raised a scalpel in one hand, tapping the Y-shaped incision that had been forcibly carved into the creature¡¯s chest. ¡°The organs, as you can see, are shrivelled and blackened like fruit that has been left in the sweltering sun. But they are reflective of human organs, lacking any of the peculiarities you would find inside a gnome or elf.¡±


    Velasco gave him a flat look. ¡°I think we could safely rule out the possibility of this gargantuan behemoth having ever been a gnome, Scallid.¡±


    ¡°Aha. Of course my lord.¡± The balding man had a few beads of sweat dappling his ebony brow. He tendedto sweat whenever Velasco made rare visits to him. He turned and made for a wheeled tray just off to the side of the slab.


    Velasco watched, silently, as Scallid lifted a great jar onto the slab. A strange ebony gem, large and jagged, was suspended in a luminous green fluid. ¡°This, however, was unique. I¡¯ve never seen anything quite like it before. It was lodged in the chest cavity, suspended in a cobweb of black veins that dissolved at the touch. Whatever eroded his flesh did not seem to warp the gem.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± Velasco leaned in for a better look. Magic, unseen, blossomed in his breast and pulsed to the meteorite stud in his left ear. He tried to sense any magic in the stone, and found it to be as dull and lifeless as any other rock. Either all the magic inside it had evaporated upon the death of the strange figure, it had never had any magic in it to start with, or it was some form of mystical energy unknown to his senses.


    Each possibility was concerning in a different way.


    ¡°Have you sent for it to be examined by anyone else?¡± he asked.


    Scallid nodded firmly. ¡°I checked with my contacts in the Artisan¡¯s Guild, those with a special interest in studying minerals Two of them never saw anything like this before. A third had a hunch, but said he needed more time to research some old notes of his. So, not much in that regard. But Fiodor and a few of his cohorts also examined it. They, similarly, were stumped bu it.¡±


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°So there¡¯s no way of knowing if that growth is what caused these strange alterations to his body?¡±


    ¡°Afraid not. It¡¯s a strong possibility, but I¡¯m willing to believe there were other factors that led to this altered physique.¡± He reached for the trolley again and lifted up a plate weighed with blackened scales. Like the world¡¯s least appetising snack. ¡°These had to be removed before I could make the main incision. I wasn¡¯t sure what to make of them at first, but I found something truly odd when I gave them a deeper look. They appear to be ogre scales.¡±


    That made Velasco perk a curious eyebrow. ¡°This... is a human/ogre crossbreed?¡± He had heard of such things in the past, but assumed them to be tall tales. Really one had to only imagine the mechanics of such a coupling to know it seemed unfeasible.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe so. These growths, the way they emerge from the human skin, seem unnatural. Something that was sprouted by an outside force.¡±


    ¡°Hm.¡± Velasco¡¯s mouth pulled into a long, thin frown. It was his natural state of being in the eyes of most who knew him. ¡°A human with trange ogre-like protrusions spouting artificially from his flesh. Well now...¡±


    Scallid watched him warily, trying and failing to read anything from his body language. The man became like a statue. A horrible, vulture-like statue who would haunt the nightmares of children. ¡°Ser?¡± he eventually prodded.


    Velasco did not answer, initially. He was a man who picked when he responded to people, to an often obstinate degree. ¡°Tell me, Scallid, have you ever heard of Shibalba?¡±


    ¡°I cannot say I have, Archchancellor.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a country, and one with a rather unpleasant reputation. Travel east, all the way to the edge of the continent, and then farther east still across the Sea of Drakes, and you will find the isle of Shibalba. Their Citadel of Shadows is, in some respects, one of the greatest institutes of arcane study known to man,¡± Velasco said. He lifted one broken scale, rubbing it between his fingers until it ground into a fine black powder.


    ¡°I see,¡± Scallid said, nodding along.


    ¡°And while I have never been, personally, I have read a few accounts of the dark practices of Shibalba. It is said they practice some truly profane arts, including something that is known only as black alchemy.¡± He turned his head with deliberate slowness, meeting Scallid¡¯s eyes. ¡°The ability to meld the flesh of a human, with the flesh of a beast. A terrifying power.¡±


    ¡°Y-yes, milord, it does... sound worrisome. And you believe that these ogre scales are a result of this black alchemy?¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t discount the possibility.¡± Velasco huffed, removed a cloth from his pocket, and cleaned his fingers. ¡°To think the Brotherhood would have access to forbidden knowledge from across the sea. Even in the era of the crown, they didn¡¯t have such resources.¡±


    His face was a grim mask, as if carved from granite, but there was a blaze of terrible anger humming behind his eyes.


    ¡°What are we to do then, ser?¡± Scallid eventually asked. A chill had settled across the mortuary, with Scallid¡¯s mind becoming abuzz with images of malformed half-human monsters, dispatched to slay anyone the Brotherhood saw as a threat.


    Why had they sent someone like that to kill Coin? That was the thought that loomed largest in Velasco¡¯s mind. That boy was odd, no doubt, but would they really send a hit squad of such dangerous individuals after him, solely because he had given information to Velasco?


    The Brotherhood didn¡¯t like loose ends, never had, but sending such a hit squad would be seen as overkill under most circumstances. The fact that Coin¡¯s people had survived without a casualty was all the more surprising.


    So many questions needed answering. And Velasco sorely hated unanswered questions.


    ¡°We do our research, my good man. Do everything we can to get a good handle on the situation, and understand exactly what we¡¯re dealing with. Things will get worse before they get better.¡± He straightened his posture and paced across the tiled floor. ¡°Now then, onto other matters. What kind of magic was used to kill this man?¡±

 Chapter 85 - A New Venture

    Days had passed since Elijah¡¯s funeral. Coin spent much of that time sequestered in the old man¡¯s library, quietly browsing through some of the old tomes Elijah had collected over the years. Many of them were textbooks on commerce and the merchant¡¯s trade, detailing the names and exploits of many famous traders.


    Occasionally, when checking through these tomes, he would come across some old earmarked notebooks that Elijah had penned by his own hand, containing details of his own past trades. The records went back a considerable amount of time.


    It was, in a way, a chance for Coin to remember the man. He read Elijah¡¯s words in his own voice, pretending that he was still by his side.


    Eventually he found an empty notebook and became pencilling in his own notes as he read through the old tomes. He had little ambition for much of anything, beyond learning more about how Elijah had lived his life. And learning the even more about the merchant trade, as Elijah had wanted to do for him, seemed a good way to kill time.


    The door creaked open as Coin was busy leafing through one particularly dense book (Kalcifur Kohnn¡¯s ¡®The Art of the Trade¡¯) when the door to the study was silently pushed open. He only barely peered up from his notebook as Leonid entered, wheeling some food into the room.


    ¡°Lunchtime, Master Coin!¡± he cheerily said. ¡°It¡¯s high noon, after all.¡±


    ¡°Mm,¡± Coin replied, returning his focus to his notes. He was just in the process of reading a fascinating anecdote about a fraudulent copper salesman when the slim elf entered. This was what was considered exciting when it came to economic history.


    The tray halted just to the side of Coin¡¯s desk, sporting a plate of gravy-soaked roast meat, framed on one side by a wall of slowly sinking mashed potatoes. ¡°Just figured it would be prudent to get you lunch. And to make sure you hadn¡¯t... er, died in here yet,¡± Leonid said.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, Leonid, truly,¡± Coin replied, continuing to scan his eyes over lines of text. ¡°How is Domajor doing?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll be back tomorrow, rested and recovered. I can¡¯t recall the last time Master Domajor took time off. But, then again, I can¡¯t recall the last time anyone tried to kill us.¡±


    Coin grimaced. ¡°Yeah. Not a great day,¡± he said. ¡°But I¡¯m still glad you¡¯re all okay.¡± He had taken the time to hire a wizard to enchant the locks on the entrances and windows to the manor, something that would ward off any attempts to pick them. He also wanted Domajor to hire a few guards to watch the ground. He had a feeling the man had a keen eye for trustworthy and capable guards.


    ¡°Of course, of course.¡± Leonid forced a smile, his eyes darting between Coin¡¯s notebook and the tray of his food. ¡°You really should eat more, ser,¡± he said.


    ¡°I... appreciate the gesture. But I¡¯m not that hungry.¡± He had to will his stomach to not rumble.


    ¡°What are you doing? If you don¡¯t mind me asking.¡±


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Studying, I suppose. Learning all I can about the merchant trade. All the things Elijah wanted to teach me.¡± It was the only thing he could really think to do with his time now.


    Leonid nodded slowly. ¡°If I may, ser, I don¡¯t think Master Elijah would have wanted you to live your life like this,¡± he said, tucking his hands behind his back. ¡°Locking yourself away, pouring over his books, ignoring the world outside... Do you know how rarely we saw Master Elijah around here? He spent much of any given year on the road, for he loved to travel and see the world.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Coin admitted, slowly lifting his eyes from the books before him. He thought back on the days they spent travelling together. It may not have always been safe, but it was always eventful. And having spent so much of his life trapped underground, and never knowing better until his evolution, he had never felt so alive until he started to travel with the old man.


    There was a wide world out there, and he¡¯d only barely skimmed the surface of it. And now, here he was, shutting himself away from it again. He sighed. ¡°It¡¯s hard. I don¡¯t even know what to do now.¡±


    ¡°You were training to be a merchant, were you not?¡± Leonid tilted his head. ¡°I see no reason why you should give that up. Granted you hardly need money, the sum you gained from Master Elijah will likely support you for a lifetime. But it was never really about the money for our former master, was it?¡±


    ¡°No. I suppose it wasn¡¯t.¡± And Coin did still love money, deep down. He doubted anything could kill his love for his namesake. Yet it felt less important to him nowadays. He turned and took up the fork Leonid had left for him. ¡°Becoming a merchant again. Yeah, it does sound nice.¡± But he didn¡¯t want to just pick up where he left off, travelling with just a wagon. It just wouldn¡¯t be the same. And, frankly, he wanted more out of the experience.


    But what?


    He ate slowly, chewing on mouthfuls of mashed potatoes sodden with gravy. He swallowed and glanced to Leonid. ¡°Thanks, Leonid. You¡¯ve given me something to think about.¡±


    ¡°I live to serve.¡± The elf smiled, bowed, and hastily made his way out.


    Coin ate in silence, accompanies solely by the ticking of the ornate clock on the wall, but inwardly his brain was abuzz with thoughts and ideas. Of what he wanted to do with his life, of what he could conceivably do with his inherited wealth... and how he would do it.


    By the time he finished eating, a few thoughts had started to ferment above all others. He fished an empty notebook from his pile and got to writing.


    His literacy had grown entirely functional by the time Elijah left this mortal coil, even if he had had little time or desire to practice since his death. While his handwriting was as aesthetically pleasing as a baboon''s rear, it was entirely functional.


    Come sundown, Essine knocked and entered the room. She had been given a wardrobe of robes and dresses, finely tailored compared to the rags she was used to. And while she looked very different on the outside, her awkward posture was the same as ever.


    ¡°Coin?¡± she asked, padding deeper inside.


    She found him vigorously taking notes in his chosen booklets, both pages before him covered in tightly written paragraphs and small sums of numbers in the margins. ¡°Hey, Essine,¡± he said, sopping his scribbling to meet her eyes. He managed a smile.


    ¡°Are you well?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m... not as bad,¡± Coin admitted. The feeling of loss still burned in his breast, but it wasn¡¯t quite as crushing anymore.


    Essine gave him a knowing nod. ¡°I have known much loss in life, Coin.¡± What kobold hadn¡¯t, she asked herself. ¡°The sensation of loss never truly leaves. The presence of a person in your life is replaced with their absence, and that absence is like a weight upon your heart. Yet the weight lessens, in time.¡±


    He offered her a sad smile. ¡°That¡¯s a lot to carry.¡± How did people manage, when so many of their relationships were destined to end in such a way? Yet, people did manage. Every single one of them. A thought that fascinated Coin, until he wrestled his thoughts elsewhere.


    ¡°Yes, it is.¡± Essine nodded again. ¡°But you are strong. You can overcome much.¡± She made her way around to his side, tucking her hands behind her back. ¡°But, for now, let us not dwell on such things. What, er, are you working on? It seems rather involved.¡±


    ¡°Thinking about the future, I suppose,¡± Coin said. ¡°I know I can¡¯t just sit around here for the rest of my life. It¡¯s not what Elijah would want, and it¡¯s not what I want either.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Essine pulled up a chair beside him, her hands folded in her lap. ¡°What did you have in mind?¡±


    ¡°Well...¡± Coin glanced to the row of numbers scribbled into the book before him. ¡°I want to put the money I¡¯ve been given to good use. To do something that Elijah would be proud of. And so, after giving it some thought, I want to make my own mercantile company.¡±

 Chapter 86 - A Merchant King

    Essine said nothing for some time, mildly startled by Coin¡¯s declaration. ¡°A mercantile company?¡± she eventually asked. ¡°Like the one Elijah once had?¡±


    ¡°Right. I want to make something that can carry his legacy. The one he founded? It¡¯s in the hands of that Ashur creep. I can¡¯t stomach that, I just can¡¯t. So I need to do something that can overtake the Venture Company, and become the new cornerstone of trade in Arcadia.¡±


    ¡°It certainly sounds like you have given this much thought.¡±


    ¡°A bit. Ashur really got under my skin at the funeral. But it¡¯s not like I can just bite his head off in broad daylight.¡±


    Essine opened her mouth, briefly wondering if he meant that in a literal or figurative way, but then ultimately decided she was better off not knowing. ¡°You wish to defeat the Venture Company, then. But that is no easy feat, from what this one knows. There are many companies across Arcadia, but few could compete with what Elijah built.¡±


    ¡°Right. But Elijah didn¡¯t get his company that big overnight. I read about it in his old ledgers and journals, some of the challenges he faced early on. But do you know what let him grow exponentially?¡± Coin lifted one ledger and tapped a passage he had circled earlier in the day.


    ¡®It was a long day of negotiations, but I finally talked Tuber Greengrass to my way of thinking. With the way things were looking for his company, they¡¯d be lucky to make it to the end of the year. And with what I offered to pay him, he seemed content to sell off his assets. Tuber¡¯s Traders may be gone, but its wagons and employees are now proud assets of the Venture Company.¡¯


    Essine hummed. ¡°He bought out his rivals, yes?¡±


    ¡°More than once. I didn¡¯t know that kind of thing was possible before now, but it makes so much sense. A perfect tactic to grow your business.¡± Coin grinned wolfishly. ¡°The business is like... like a mimic itself. It eats smaller, weaker things, and grows stronger as a result.¡±


    ¡°That is... one way to consider it.¡±


    ¡°And if I can do that to the Venture Company, totally surpass it and take all the business from it, then we can buy it out. A chance to take Elijah¡¯s legacy out of Ashur¡¯s hands.¡±


    ¡°But, should you fail...¡± Essine did not want to say as much out loud, but they both understood how ruinous things could be if Coin¡¯s inheritance was wasted on a failed business venture.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Coin nodded in understanding. ¡°Of course,¡± he said. ¡°But it¡¯s a good thing I don¡¯t plan on failing. We should start small, build things up. Then, once things are stable, we can expand.¡±


    He flicked through a few more pages, coming to a halt on the most recent one: A row of objects, with a monetary value placed beside each one. The cost of a wagon, the cost of a beast of burden, the weekly wage of a clerk, the wage of book keepers and accountants. The price of a small building in the Spokes to act as an office. The most basic, fundamental things a trading company would need to function.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t cost too much. Not at first, at least. Only...¡± Coin scratched his jaw. ¡°We¡¯d want to start turning a profit quickly. The cost would start chewing into my coffers very quickly if we don¡¯t.¡±


    Essine nodded slowly. ¡°And you are largely an unknown element in this world. You are Elijah¡¯s apprentice and successor, true, but you have not done much in the eyes of most. At last, that it what this one believes. Yes we have been through much, but notmuch oof it relates to trade and business.¡±


    She had a point, Coin knew. Their jaunt in Charnyll would not impress most. But being Elijah¡¯s apprentice had to count for something.


    ¡°Well, we need to appeal to the people who trusted and worked with Elijah.¡± He tapped another ledger. ¡°Folks he collaborated and dealt on behalf of. If they trusted his judgement in business, they might trust his judgement with me.¡±


    ¡°There is some logic to what you say. But it is still risky. Still...¡± Essine glanced out the window, to the city beyond. No doubt things were different now than they were in Elijah¡¯s day. It would probably be even harder to make a start in the trading business.


    Yet, ultimately, she had faith in Coin¡¯s abilities and determination. And, certainly, she didn¡¯t fault his desire to strike back at Ashur Clyde.


    ¡°This one does not know how much help she may be. But...¡± She made her way to the window, leaning her modest weight against the frame. ¡°This one shall aid you. In whatever way possible.¡±


    Coin smiled and approached her. ¡°Thank you, Essine. I owe you a lot.¡±


    ¡°This one owes you more. After all, you chose to spare this one when we first met.¡± Their eyes met, joy shining in her eyes as a warm smile broken out across her face. ¡°And since that day, you have made life for this one all the sweeter. Being at your side is the least this one can do to repay you.¡±


    Coin chuckled, a nervous lilt in the sound. ¡°I¡¯m glad you feel that way,¡± he said. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d have friends. I never thought a lot of things about my life would come to pass like this. But, here we are.¡±


    ¡°Well, it is good that you are happy. And this one is sure your business ventures shall do well. But, be cautious. The world is still a dangerous place, yes?¡±


    ¡°The Brotherhood.¡± Coin nodded grimly. They were tied to Elijah¡¯s death, albeit indirectly. And he had no doubt they would cause more trouble down the line, perhaps even send more assassins his way. It would be nice to deal with them, but Coin felt he would be out of his depth if he tied. As an organisation they were vast and powerful, skulking in the shadows.


    Could he ever track them to the root, and cut the head off the serpent? He had his doubts. Coin hoped Velasco and his ilk would be able to halt them, but it was a slim hope.


    ¡°We¡¯ll... deal with that as it comes up,¡± he said, folding his hands in his trouser pocket. ¡°Because no doubt they¡¯ll make trouble for us.¡±


    ¡°No doubt,¡± Essine said.


    ¡°But.. it¡¯ll be fine. No matter what comes at us, I plan on winning.¡± His smile broadened as he stared out the window. ¡°I¡¯m not just gonna become a merchant, Essine. I¡¯m gonna become a merchant king.¡±

 Book One Epilogue

    The island sat in silence, as islands often do. Water lapped at its coasts, while a warm sea breeze wafted through the trees and grass that made up the foliage. The mountain in the middle stood proud and defiant, framed in the glow of the afternoon sun.


    Across the sea the coastline of Arcadia was a hazy, ill-defined smear. Yet, gradually, it was drawing closer.


    A seagull flew overhead, aloft on a current of warm air. It circled the island once, twice, thrice, and debated whether or not to land all the while. Under normal circumstances a bird would not be beholden to such anxiety, caring little for where it landed so long as it had a spot to land. Yet, on some level, the creature felt something was... off about the land below.


    But all birds must land eventually, and the seagull saw nowhere else to land.


    It banked down toward the island, and did not think it odd that there were no other birds on the branches of the trees. That there were no other animals scurrying through the bushes. That there was not so much as an insect patrolling the dusty ground.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    It landed atop a palm tree, or what it thought was a palm tree. The branches swept upward an instant later, like a great set of alien jaws, and crushed the bird into a fine pulp. When the leaves retracted, there was no trace of the animal left.


    Silence fell over the island again.


    It thought little of the meal it had just had, an inconsequential morsel. But the meat was, the island supposed, slightly better than hoovering up krill, plankton, and fleets of small fish that swam too close to its underbelly. Variety in ones diet was important.


    Yet the island was not thinking much about food at all. The island was focused on something much more important. That alien yet familiar mind far across the sea, silently beckoning it closer. The closest thing to itself that the island had encountered over many centuries.


    A sensation that could almost be considered excitement fluttered through the vast consciousness of the landmass, sending a faint tremor through the surrounding sea.


    It was in no rush to reach Arcadia all the same, time was no matter to a being of such longevity. It would get there sooner or later, and then would finally have a kindred spirit beside it.


    Colony would finally have family.

 Prologue

    The Future


    The cavern was not a natural formation in the side of the mountain. It had been painstakingly carved out by claws that could rend through stone and steel, until it had formed into a chamber large enough to comfortably house its massive occupant. The peak of the mountain reached high above the clouds, and from ground level it was near-impossible to see the cavern entrance through a shroud of boreal fog.


    But the locals of Arcadia who lived within the vicinity of Mount Reiss knew that it was up there, out of sight. The wisened elders regaled their children and grandchildren with campfire tales of seeing the mountain¡¯s occupant in flight, stories from their own bygone youth where they had seen great wings unfurling against the sun or moon.


    Those sightings had grown rarer over the years, but they knew the dragon still lurked there. Content to sit upon its horde, increasingly disdainful of the world of mortals. Only a fool would dare to go near the dragon¡¯s cavern the elders always said. The only thing awaiting anyone who tried to venture inside, either for riches or for simple curiosity, would be met with a swift death.


    They would balk if they knew a man was walking into the cavern at this very moment, striding along the smoothly carved stone floor. A man who knew full well he was walking into the lair of a dragon, but had no fear of the beast in question.


    But it wasn¡¯t curiosity that drove Coin¡¯s visit to the dragon¡¯s nest, nor was it greed (though his mouth did water considerably as he saw the veritable mountains of plundered gold that filled the interior of the cave). No, Coin had made this trek for a very important reason.


    He paused in the yawning mouth of the cave for several moments, brushing thick clots of snow from his shoulders. In that time, a great heaving mass began to disturb the piles of plunder. Mounds of gold and silver tumbled away, like rockfall on a mountainside. They gave way to reveal a hulking body of sleek ebony scales, thirty meters long from snout to scythed tail-tip. Baleful green eyes, blazing brighter than cauldrons of fire, locked onto Coin in an instant.


    The dragon did not move for several moments, staring at Coin as he slowly pressed into the room. The beast, simply put, was bewildered. It was hard enough to believe a human had entered its cave, but it was even harder to believe that said human seemed totally unbothered by the dragon glowering at him.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Coin, in turn, felt the pressure of the dragon¡¯s mind on his own. It was probing, curious, an unseen hand that prodded and poked his mind. By now he had gotten used to psychic forces acting on his mind.


    You¡¯re not human, the dragon said, its mental tone rife with curiosity and annoyance. That curiosity was perhaps the only thing keeping him alive at present.


    ¡°Correct,¡± Coin said. He stopped a few paces from the nearest pile of coins and slowly pulled his scarf down from his mouth. Dragons, like mimics, had an inborn love for all that glittered, and Coin knew well enough not to directly touch the hoard.


    For mimics it was a mix of two things. Partially it was a magpie-like fixation on shiny things, and partially it was for the sake of creating a convincing illusion of wealth to draw in unsuspecting humans. Metal was a hard texture to copy, and mimics had found it easier to simply grab and store gold to use as bait.


    But for dragons, nobody was entirely sure why they liked gold and silver so much. It was well known that they were at human-levels of intellect (even if they would bristle at the comparison), far smarter than the average mimic, but they did not need to shop and purchase items as a human would. They were not particularly talkative, and the few scholars daring enough to try and ask them questions were usually reduced to smoking pairs of shoes.


    It was just a simple fact that the few dragons who still lived upon this plane had a fixation on wealth, surrounding themselves with opulence. Coin¡¯s eyes roamed from one end of the cavern to the other, trying to make a tally of the wealth. Elijah¡¯s vault had been massive, but even at a glance he could tell that the dragon¡¯s wealth was far grander. Ill-gotten or otherwise.


    The great lizard before him, slowly puffing smoke from two slitted nostrils, was perhaps the wealthiest being in Arcadia, if not the world at large.


    Fool. The dragon¡¯s wings unfurled, kicking up a gale that would have flung a normal person from the mouth of the cave. Coin grimaced, planting his heels and increasing his mass and density. Small hooks sprouted from the soles of his feet, anchoring him in place. Whoever, or whatever you are, it makes no matter. I am Auzel. I have seen centuries come and go, witnessed the rise and fall of empires. My wingbeats can quell the thunder of the heavens, my flames can turn the finest steel into slag, my scales turn the strongest mortal magic into mere dust. No foe can best me. If you have come here for my plunder, you shall find only death. Come another step forward and be shattered.


    Coin looked deep into the great emerald eyes of the dragon, sensing the vastness of Auzel¡¯s mind. It was no mere boast, he knew. The dragon could, if so inclined, wipe entire armies away with all the effort of brushing dust from a countertop.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here to steal from you, mighty Auzel.¡±


    Auzel¡¯s eyes narrowed. It was only idle curiosity that kept the beast from attacking. Whether they thought Coin was intriguing, either from bravery or stupidity, or were simply humouring him... who could say?


    Then why do you bother me, creature?


    Coin smiled, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. ¡°Well... this is probably going to sound odd, but...¡±


    The dragon leaned its long neck forward, intrigued.


    ¡°... I have a business proposition for you.¡±

 Chapter 1 - Back in Business

    The Present.


    Coin followed the clerk deeper into the vacant building, the floorboards creaking and echoing under every step. A step of mildew and ash hung thick in the air, near choking, and Coin could see signs of rot eating into parts of the floor. The walls, red brick, had lasted fair better under the throes of time and neglect. But mold and soot stains had still taken root on the masonry.


    Shokley Gaitz, a clerk from the Land Office, managed a small smile as he glanced back at Coin. ¡°Admittedly, Ser Thaeka, this office has been untouched for the better part of a decade. It could do with some spit and polish, I¡¯ll admit, but I have no doubt the right hand could really make it shine.¡±


    Coin examined the interior, mentally creating a layout of where he could put desks, filing cabinets and a storage area. It wasn¡¯t a pretty building, he¡¯d admit, but it was leagues better than the last three Gaitz had shown him. And property in the Spokes was hard to come by these days, alas.


    Coin nodded to himself. ¡°And the roof doesn¡¯t leak?¡±


    ¡°Oh no sir, not at all. The tiles are sturdy, haven¡¯t been touched by time. The old owner may not have been an adept businessman. But, as he ran a printing press, he took the threat of rainfall rather seriously.¡± He forced a smile, lifting the drooping ends of his ashen moustache.


    Coin nodded in understanding. ¡°And this is the last vacant lot in the Spokes?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Sadly. At least, for property of this particular size,¡± Gaitz replied, nodding. ¡°Business is ¡®booming¡¯ in Arcadia these days.¡±


    Coin nodded again. Property in the Merchant¡¯s Quarter had been even harder to come by, and far more expensive. Coin¡¯s business ambitions wouldn¡¯t have gone far if the rent was cataclysmic right out of the gate. Start small, he told himself, just like Elijah did.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take it,¡± he said.


    The clerk blinked at him from behind his thick glasses. ¡°Truly?¡±


    ¡°Truly. Have the proper paperwork sent along to my home.¡± Domajor could handle the majority of it.


    ¡°Right away!¡± Gaitz practically clicked his heels and took off at a speedy trot. Coin followed after him, his hands in the pockets of his longcoat. They parted ways once outside, Gaitz leaving a thick padlock on the front door. It wasn¡¯t Coin¡¯s yet, after all.


    Essine emerged from a smoky alleyway just across the street. She tended to dress more humbly when out in pblic, and had adorned herself in a shabby coat and leather trousers, over which sat a hooded grey cloak. ¡°This place is...¡± the kobold wrinkled he snout, trying to find words that weren¡¯t overtly insulting. ¡°It¡¯s... it... has character.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I know, it¡¯s shabby,¡± Coin sad. ¡°But beggars can¡¯t be choosers.¡±


    Two months had passed since Coin expressed his desire to become a merchant king, time that had been spent researching Elijah¡¯s journals, and every book on the merchant¡¯ trade that he could find. He had put a good deal of time and consideration into his plans, and the time had finally come to get the gears in motion.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°The carpenters should have the desks and cabinets ready come the end of the week, and by then all the paperwork will be dealt with. All we need then is just to get some workers to man the wagons I bought, and clerks to handle the paperwork.¡±


    Essine nodded slowly. ¡°This one... has had some thoughts on that,¡± she eventually said.


    Coin smiled and leaned in closer. ¡°Really?¡± he asked, excitement shining in his eyes. When she looked at him, saw that youthful exuberance he radiated, she found it so hard to believe he wasn¡¯t human. That beneath that handsome face lurked a mimic who, by complete accident, had become as smart as a human.


    Deep down Essine knew how lucky the world was that Elijah had been one of the first people Coin had met on the surface. A good man who Coin strove to emulate, making him a good man in turn.


    ¡°It is... perhaps not the done thing. But if you seek hard workers who do not expect much pay...¡± She glanced down the smoky street ahead of them, gesturing to a team of scruffy kobolds carefully bringing piles of lumber into a nearby mill.


    ¡°Hiring kobolds,¡± Coin mused, rubbing his chin. He knew full well how literate the kobolds were as a species. A nearly innate, magical talent to grasp text and numbers. Most were content to write the rat-like people off as barely smarter than beasts, but Coin understood the truth of the matter. ¡°Could work,¡± he eventually said. ¡°We only need a few, but I think that¡¯s a fine idea Essine.¡±


    A bight smile graced her face. ¡°This one is glad. They likely won¡¯t need much convincing.¡±


    ¡°Anything¡¯s a step up from back breaking labour in a factory out here.¡± Coin paused, tucking one hand into his coat pocket. ¡°But don¡¯t think I¡¯ll pay the kobolds less than what I¡¯d pay a human.¡±


    Essine¡¯s smile broadened. ¡°This one never doubted you.¡±


    ¡°Well, come on, let¡¯s-¡±


    Coin froze in place for several seconds, his expression growing grave as if something had just taken a hard grip on his brain. Essine froze, staring at him with mounting worry. This was not the first time she had seen Coin completely freeze up in the past fortnight. It seemed to happen at complete random, something unseen and unknowable that left Coin entranced.


    Essine had seen that distant look from only one other person in the past, and the memory sent a grim shudder through her whole body. Her grandmother, in her twilight years, had drifted off in a similar way on occasion. Betrayed by her own mind.


    ¡°C-Coin?¡± Essine asked.


    Coin blinked repeatedly, trying to fill away the fog in his brain. ¡°I...¡± He swallowed hard. He looked around, lost, until he gradually recalled where he was standing. ¡°Sorry. I got distracted.¡±


    ¡°That... was no mere distraction. And it is not the first time this one has seen you drift off.¡±


    The mimic grimaced, staring briefly skyward. In truth even he didn¡¯t know how to describe the sensation. It was like an intense wave washing over him, an unseen pressure that overwrote everything else in his brain.


    And whenever the feeling passed, only one thought lingered in his head.


    ¡®Colony.¡¯


    Whatever that meant.


    He sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s stress. Or my mind running away from me.¡± Or perhaps, a particularly dark and nasty fear in the back of his mind, the potion that gave him intelligence was starting to weaken. That his old animal mind was going to gradually pull his intelligence away, bit by bit, each lapse of consciousness becoming longer and coming by quicker than the last. Until, ultimately, all traces of ¡®Coin¡¯ were subsumed.


    He wanted to say that that was a ridiculous thought. He had been intelligent for months, without any trace of his mind failing. If anything, he had only grown smarter over time. Yet he couldn¡¯t discount the feeling entirely.


    ¡°This one would suggest seeing a healer, were it not for...¡± She motioned to the entirety of Coin¡¯s body. It wouldn¡¯t take long for any half-decent medicine man to quickly see something odd about Coin.


    ¡°I know, I know.¡± He set off walking at a brisk pace, and Essine followed his lead. ¡°I¡¯ll look into it down the line. But, for now... let¡¯s try and focus on the business.¡±


    ¡°If you are sure-¡±


    ¡°I am. Trust me,¡± Coin said, offering her a small smile. They had so much to do, only barely laying the groundwork for their efforts. He couldn¡¯t afford to get bogged down in strange, disorienting daydreams.


    Hopefully Pearl was fulfilling her side of things.

 Chapter 2 - Get to Work

    Essine managed to pull two kobolds, both male, aside after some time spent communicating with the crowd. They had been smoking in the lot just outside their chosen factory, given what could only loosely be considered a break. They approached Coin nervously, umbral eyes watching him with immense caution.


    He doubted they knew who he was, few kobolds had the time to keep track of Sentinel politics, but wealth radiated off of the young man. Which meant he could likely kill them and face zero consequences for doing so.


    ¡°This one is Harmish,¡± the first kobold said. He was larger than his two kinsmen, with jet black fur and a few pale scars lining the right side of his face. His ears poked out from beneath his wool cap, and Coin could see that Harmish¡¯s left ear had a chunk missing.


    The shorter kobold, distinguished by his silvery fur and long snout, stepped forward and pulled his grubby jacket close. ¡°This one is Dymunn.¡±


    Coin nodded to each of them in turn. ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you both. You can call me Coin.¡±


    The kobolds exchanged an uncertain glance. They were not used to a human letting them be on a first name basis. Certainly not one that looked rich enough to buy and sell the factory owner they toiled for.


    ¡°Are you too literate?¡± he asked.


    ¡°This one can read, yes,¡± Dymunn said. Harmish nodded.


    ¡°And you¡¯re good with numbers?¡± They nodded again. Coin reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded sheet, lined on one side with mathematical equations that gradually grew more complex. ¡°I want you two to solve these. You¡¯ll get four ducats each.¡±


    That was more than enough to motivate the two kobolds, who spent the next few minutes chittering back and forth in their own language as they went down the sheet. They only occasionally seemed to disagree in their rumination. Coin handed the two a pen from his pocket and handed it to the two, letting them write their answers.


    Once finished, Coin gave the sheet to Essine. She carefully scrutinized their work, her brow occasionally knitting in concentration. ¡°They are good,¡± she said, finally.


    ¡°This one teaches the younger koboldkin at night,¡± Harmish said. ¡°Just as father did.¡±


    Coin nodded approvingly, pinching his chin with his left hand. ¡°Well, if Essine vouches for your work, that¡¯s good enough for me.¡± He reached into his pocket, only hesitating briefly as he pulled some ducats from his flesh and spilled them into his palm. He was getting better at parting with money, he had to admit.


    Not too long ago he shuddered at the thought of spending any money. But the maxim of ¡®you have to spend money to make money¡¯ had engraved itself upon his mind, and Coin understood the necessity now more than ever.


    The kobolds accepted the coins, marvelling at them.


    ¡°I¡¯m starting a new business soon,¡± he said, nodding at both kobolds in turn and then gesturing to his newly purchased property up the road. ¡°To that end, I need some employees. Guys who can handle crunching numbers and filing away paperwork. Seems like the kind of thing you¡¯re ideal for.¡±The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°A... job? That is... would it be allowed?¡±


    ¡°There exists no law barring koboldkin from working indoors. In the Spokes, at least,¡± Essine said. She had been doing her own research, after all.


    ¡°The current rate for such clerks in Sentinel is ten ducats per week. That¡¯s for each of you, yes. Far better than surviving off whatever scraps the factory was paying you.¡±


    Harmish gaped at him, looking as if he might faint. ¡°Ten... per week.¡±


    ¡°Per week,¡± Essine confirmed.


    ¡°Why... would you be so generous?¡± Dymunn warily asked. ¡°Do not misunderstand. This one is not ungrateful, but an offer like this is... uncommon among your kin.¡±


    Coin nodded. ¡°That¡¯s unfortunately true.¡± Kobolds had gotten a raw deal throughout history. Nowadays they could only scrape out an existence in the gutter of civilization, or take their chances in the wilderness. ¡°I don¡¯t expect you to believe me outright, but the offer is on the table.¡± He pointed again to his office.


    ¡°It may be a few weeks before things are all set up and ready to go. But, when the time comes, you two would be very welcome to work for the company.¡±


    Again, the kobolds exchanged a look. ¡°This one is interested,¡± said Harmish.


    ¡°This one shall consider it,¡± Dymunn said, glancing away.


    Nodding, Coin turned and led Essine away. ¡°I can¡¯t fault them for being worried, but... I do hope Dymunn is willing to join up,¡± he said, once they were far enough away to avoid being overheard.


    Essine nodded beneath the hood of her cloak. ¡°That one shall come around. Options are limited for koboldkin, and an offer like this... Who among them could genuinely say no?¡±


    The grimy, smoke-stained scenery of the Spokes gradually gave way to the slightly cleaner streets of the Merchant¡¯s Quarter. Coin and Essine made small talk as they wound through cramped side streets and alleys.


    The more passionate Coin had gotten about creating his own trading company, the more on board Essine had gotten. And, ultimately, she longed to make Coin¡¯s dream a reality. Granted she was no businesswoman, but she had a good head on her shoulders and a lot of passion to motivate her.


    They came to a stop at a small store that had an assortment of paintings and sculpted signs hanging in the window. They made their way inside, just in time to see Pearl chatting with the owner: A bald, bespectacled old man old enough to be her father who hung upon her every word.


    She made a sly joke, earned a hearty chortle from the old man, and graciously took a wrapped package from him. It was an awkward and weighty thing, vaguely board-shaped, and Coin quickly made his way over to help her support the weight.


    ¡°Ah,¡± she smiled and flicked her lustrous black hair back. ¡°My handsome hero.¡±


    ¡°Hello Pearl,¡± he greeted.


    She spared another glance to the owner. ¡°My thanks again, Aumand. You do wonderful work, as always.¡±


    They ventured out into the street, making an effort to avoid the folks bustling about their business. ¡°This one did not think the sign would be ready this early,¡± Essine said. ¡°It was not so long ago that you put the order in.¡±


    ¡°Armaund is a good worker. He did a myriad of paintings and signs back when I was a member of the Golden Badge Players. All I had to do was bat my eyelashes at him and he picked up the pace, and even knocked a few ducats off the price.¡± She snickered, beaming with pride.


    ¡°Well done Pearl. I¡¯m glad for your help.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well...¡± Pearl tittered and gave Coin a half-lidded gaze. ¡°I may not be a businesswoman, but I have my talents.¡± She had no idea of Coin¡¯s true nature, beyond an underlying awareness that he was stronger and tougher than the average man.


    Coin reached for the brown wrapping paper that Aumand had placed around the sign and carefully opened it. A sign, shield-shaped and made from thick varnished wood greeted them. The words were neatly carved into the surface, and had been filled with silver lettering bound to catch the eye.


    A broad grin broke out across Coin¡¯s face, an expression mirrored by his two cohorts, as they surveyed the sign.


    ¡°Goodness,¡± Essine said, cocking her head. ¡°You were correct, Pearl. This Aumand is a master of his craft.¡±


    Pearl snickered, clearly pleased. ¡°Well of course, Essine. I¡¯m a woman who¡¯s gathered a nice collection of artistically inclined friends. It comes in handy to remember their names.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Coin said, ¡°very handy.¡±


    The sign read ¡®Coin¡¯s Commerce.¡¯ And an odd sense of pride was rapidly filling Coin¡¯s heart. They were doing it... they were really going to do it.

 Chapter 3 - The War Continues

    Illyana¡¯s blade wept out in a low arc, catching a goblin at the neck and shaving his head clean fro his shoulders. She spun about just as the first spurts of arterial blood erupted from the newly made stump and skewered another goblin as he rushed her from behind. Her sword, bolstered by her magic strength, punched clean through his mail and pinned his body to the wall of the burned out shack behind him.


    ¡°Illyana!¡± Varis shouted from behind cover, an overturned wagon lined with the corpses of humans and goblins. ¡°Behind you!¡±


    Illyana¡¯s pointed ear twitched, and she managed to glimpse another goblin emerging from the cover of an ash tree just off the side of the road. He was lifting a freshly reloaded hand cannon into view, grinning with bloodthirsty malice.


    Her muscles burned with exertion, magic pulsing through her sinews. Even with this heightened speed, it would take too long to wrench her sword free before the beast pulled the trigger. But, fortunately, she wasn¡¯t without options.


    Illyana¡¯s hand whipped toward her belt, swiftly drawing the hand cannon she¡¯d been given. The Manticores had only been given a modest amount of training with them. Velasco¡¯s people had only recently perfected reverse engineering the things, and they hardly had an unlimited supply of black powder and lead bullets on short notice, but it beat being at a disadvantage.


    The thunderous crack of gunfire filled the area, echoing into the trees. Her shot struck the tree beside the goblin, blowing a fist-sized hole through the trunk, wooden shrapnel shredding his face. The goblin shrieked, blood dripping from his face. His own shot went wide as a result, punching into the wall behind Illyana.


    Huffing, Illyana wrenched her blade free and sped toward the goblin. The goblin hissed and cursed, fumbling for the shortsword on his belt. Her claymore cleaved him from shoulder to hip before he could draw.


    All fell silent around Illyana, save for the huffing of her breath. Sweat dripped from her brow as she stood up, glancing back to the starting point of the violence. The trading post really had been utterly ransacked. The two story structure was scorched and riddled with arrows and bullet holes. Plenty of corpses lined the roads, dead horses included, and the nearby wagons had been similarly ransacked.


    Scouts only got a report out as the massacre began, when the goblins and their human allies in the Brotherhood had raided the place. They¡¯d come in like a tidal wave, killing anyone who wasn¡¯t fast enough to get away. Then, the scouts reported, the supplies had been raided from the wagons and the trading post.


    By all estimates, the Tarley Post was one of the wealthier ones in the region, only a short southern jaunt from Sentinel. One shuddered to think how much wealth had been plundered from the lockboxes. They had also found an alchemist¡¯s wagon among the wreckage, and it didn¡¯t take a genius to know they had likely found a supply of black powder among his wares.


    The Manticores had come upon the goblins who stayed behind, content to celebrate in the wreckage with the alcohol they had stolen from the traders. Illyana had seen the interior of the trading post only briefly, caught a glimpse of the people not lucky enough to be quickly killed in the immediate chaos of the ambush.


    She had known goblins to be hateful creatures, capable of terrible things. But she had ever known how terrible their tortures could be until now.


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    Illyana spent a moment lifting the remaining powder and ammunition from the goblin at her feet and then stalked back to the roadside structure. Varis emerged from behind cover, wiping goblin blood from his blade.


    ¡°All that time and trouble spent driving these insurrectionists from the capital, and they go straight to roadside robbery, like common bandits.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re worse than bandits.¡± Illyana glared to the remains of the trading post. A shudder ran briefly through her body. ¡°Far worse.¡±


    They made their way across the corpse strewn road, where the rest of the Manticores had gathered. They bore their own scars and injuries, and Illyana could see at least three of their number had been killed in the fighting. While they were still getting to grips with the hand cannons, the goblins had them in larger number and had had more training with them to boot.


    Try as they might, it was hard not to underestimate the goblins. But the creatures were far more cunning, and far better equipped, than anyone ever dared fear.


    Ladoss turned and spat into the dirt. ¡°Chime caught one in the neck. Benorre was shredded by that bomb blast. And Crystelle?¡± He shook his head. ¡°Goddess. When did goblins get so dangerous?¡±


    ¡°Since Lord Bleak appeared. Whoever that is,¡± Varis said casually. In some of the writings and missives they had recovered in their raids, that name had cropped up plenty of times. A code name, no doubt, but nobody had any clue who could be behind the moniker. Some big shot in the Brotherhood who had survived Velasco¡¯s purges was the most likely guess. Or an agent from outside Arcadia, seeking to undermine the kingdom.


    Ladoss spat again. ¡°Pain in the arse.¡± He watched the remains of the trading post, a bitter grimace crossing his aged face. ¡°We need to... We oughta send word back to the capital. Get people to clean this mess.¡±


    Illyana nodded grimly. ¡°I¡¯ll head back to the wagon and prep a bird.¡±


    ¡°Captain!¡± a voice hoarsely called. Illyana watched as Tode and Sedvick dragged a goblin from the brush, each holding the armoured figure by one arm. He was injured, a great gash across his brow while his cuirass seeped with blood. ¡°Got a live one!¡±


    ¡°Bring him here.¡± Ladoss lifted a knife from his belt. ¡°I¡¯ll peel his skull like an orange. After we get some information.¡±


    The goblin looked up as Ladoss approached, and gradually the Manticores formed a ring around him. He smirked despite his injuries, revealing a mouth drenched in blood. ¡°You speak common?¡± Varis asked, hooking his thumbs into his belt.


    ¡°Do,¡± the goblin growled. ¡°Speak dirty human language. Dirty monster tongue.¡±


    ¡°Calling us monsters, is that it?¡± Ladoss asked. He scoffed and pressed the tip of his blade under the goblin¡¯s chin. He barely reacted, even as blood seeped freshly sliced skin. ¡°You¡¯re one to talk, you little bastard. And talk you shall. Who¡¯s Lord Bleak?¡±


    The goblin grinned, his teeth stained crimson. ¡°God. Saviour. Give goblins what we deserve. Kill you all. Make you bleed.¡±


    Illyana grit her teeth, fighting the urge to strike the beast. ¡°What we deserve?¡±


    The goblin¡¯s eyes swivelled toward her, and suddenly the malice in his expression was magnified tenfold. ¡°Elves killed my parents. Killed brothers and sisters. Killed children. We love and grieve. Suffer for centuries. No more. Never again. Now you suffer and die.¡±


    Illyana staggered back. She had killed goblins before, but never children. Yet, she supposed, each goblin she had killed had had family of some kind. Maybe even friends and loved ones.. but could goblins actually care for anyone, even their own kin, so strongly?


    ¡°Enough,¡± Ladoss said, shooting the goblin a withering glower. ¡°I don¡¯t care about your damned family. I want to know Lord Bleak¡¯s true name. Tell me, or so help me those wounds of yours will start to look pleasant compared to what I have in mind.¡±


    ¡°You will know his name. When your kingdom crumbles. When your streets flood with blood. When you feel our pain as we do.¡± He cackled, his tongue moving about his jaw as if trying to fish an errant chunk of food from his teeth. ¡°You will know.¡±


    Illyana saw it all too late. A pellet of alien matter that had been carefully planted into one of his molars, which now sat hollow in his jaw. He crunched on it with ferocious force, and gagged as noxious green gas exploded smoking from his maw.


    ¡°Damnation!¡± Ladoss recoiled, throwing an arm around his mouth and nose. The goblin fell back, thrashing and foaming at the mouth. He was stone dead only a handful of seconds later.


    Varis lowered a cloth from his mouth. ¡°A potent cocktail of poisons. The kind only an expert alchemist could concoct.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯d rather die than answer questions,¡± Illyana murmured. ¡°And once more we¡¯re left in the dark.¡±

 Chapter 4. Something Coming Closer

    Domajor greeted Coin and the others as they reached the mansion. He bowed stiffly to the group and rose to his full height. ¡°I trust you had a good day today?¡±


    ¡°It was certainly productive,¡± Coin said.


    ¡°Very good, ser,¡± Domajor replied, his face and voice surgically devoid of emotion. ¡°The cook are already preparing tonight¡¯s dinner.¡± His gaze shifted to Essine. ¡°Are you... expecting any instruction tonight?¡±


    Esine froze, her ears briefly flattening against the sides of her head. ¡°It is likely to happen tonight, unless Scylla has business elsewhere.¡± The witch had been happy to accept Coin¡¯s offer in providing her instruction in using Sheol magic, being one of the few scholars on the continent who could claim any expertise on the subject. Thus, over the past month, she had made a visit twice per week to cultivate Essine¡¯s knowledge.


    It remained a very daunting prospect for Essine, who feared her own power. But she also knew how dangerous their lives were these days, and her power would be a necessity to keep them all safe.


    ¡°If this one must, then this one shall.¡±


    ¡°I shall have Leonid keep an eye, then. The magical seals that were placed on the exterior of the manor will block her from just... strolling in as if she owns the place.¡± She had done that once and nearly given Domajor a heart attack.


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Coin.


    Dinner that night was a pleasant affair, as it so often was when it came to the expert work of the chefs. Strips of fried auroch back beef, dusted with spices of the far south, and served with a fine vegetable soup. It had, admittedly, been a while since Coin had had a chance to eat ¡®raw¡¯ (and it shamed him to say it, but eating people just felt good to him) but he was always happy to eat the work of the chefs.


    He made for the parlour in the aftermath, combing slowly through one of Elijah¡¯s old ledgers, while Pearl busied herself composing a new song. The bard glanced out the window, occasionally, just to see if Scylla would be paying them a visit.


    ¡°I trust you have a customer lined up already?¡±she asked, plucking at the strings of her lute.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Coin said, offering her a faint smirk. He flicked to the next page and was assaulted by a brick wall of figures and statistics, all written in Elijah¡¯s spidery handwriting. ¡°Lady Greatglow herself has agreed to work with us.¡±


    ¡°The gnome?¡± Pearl lifted a brow. ¡°I would have assumed she¡¯d be wary. You know, seeing how your last job with her ended up with you almost dying in a cursed city.¡±


    Coin shrugged. ¡°That aspect of things didn¡¯t impact her too much. As far as she¡¯s concerned, us doing business with Gilly Froth without being fleeced by him, and paying her what she wanted? That¡¯s all she cared for.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s the rich and famous for you,¡± Pearl said. ¡°Well, what¡¯s she looking for?¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°She has a whole store room full old sculptures and paintings that she wants to be rid of. She has different buyers set up on the settlements beyond Sentinel, so our drivers will be heading out that way.¡±


    ¡°And security?¡± Pearl cocked her head. ¡°Road¡¯s still aren¡¯t safe. Every day I hear more tales of attacks on the roads, goblins and ogres doing their best to cause chaos.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware, I¡¯m aware,¡± Coin said, raising a hand to calm her. ¡°We¡¯re checking candidates for the role of caravan security. I may even travel with a few of them myself, just to be on the safe side. But I certainly don¡¯t intend on sending those men out on the road without guards.¡±


    ¡°Decent security doesn¡¯t come cheap, you know.¡± There was no shortage of farmboys with swords who thought themselves capable of becoming mighty warriors. The bones of such young men had lined many shallow roadside graves.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to be cheap about it,¡± Coin said. ¡°Admittedly I still hate spending money but I¡¯ll lose a lot more money if our deliveries fall through, and-¡± He froze as he glanced out the window, watching as a disc of shadow suddenly blossomed to live just beyond the gates of the manor. Leonid, who had been standing and waiting by a nearby bush, yelped and fell ass-backward into the hedges in his surprise.


    Pearl set her lute aside. ¡°How does she do that?¡±


    Coin shrugged and sauntered to the door. ¡°No idea. And I doubt she¡¯d be in a hurry to tell us.¡±


    They ventured through the door in time to see Scylla helping Leonid to his feet. As ever the witch wore her eerily calm expression, a ghost of a smile touching on her lips. ¡°I must say you¡¯ve taken to wealth like an eagle to the skies,¡± she said.


    ¡°Yeah. It suits me.¡± Coin smirked. ¡°Nice to see you again, Scylla.¡±


    ¡°Of course. I would never miss out on a chance to educate young Essine.¡± She paused, her cold eyes meeting his. ¡°And you, Coin? Have you kept up your studies?¡±


    ¡°Here and there,¡± Coin said, giving an uncertain shrug. ¡°I¡¯ve been browsing that grimoire you gave me when I have the time, and trying to cultivate my magic power. I think I¡¯ve gotten good at it.¡± It didn¡¯t hurt that he absorbed the power of any magi he ate, leaving him with a rather large wellspring to tap into.


    ¡°Oh Coin. It breaks my heart to see potential not being realised.¡±


    He shrugged, a blank look on his face. ¡°Magic is nice and all, but money is where all my attention goes.¡± And he¡¯d soon be getting a windfall of more cash.


    Scylla stared at him for several moment, her chin resting on her palm. ¡°You look tired,¡± she eventually said. Her gaze grew sharper, and Coin found himself tensing under it. ¡°No, more than that... there¡¯s a burden on your mind.¡±


    Well, she wasn¡¯t wrong. Launching a business was a rather stressful endeavour. The seemingly endless paper work, the constant number crunching, the threat of failure that dangled over the entire venture. But, if he was being honest with himself, the new business wasn¡¯t the biggest source of worry he felt. And somehow he was sure Scylla knew that.


    ¡°Join me for a moment. You don¡¯t have to start teaching Essine right away, do you?¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure Essine won¡¯t mind a bit of respite,¡± Pearl said, shrugging.


    She let the two stride off, giving them their solitude. Partially because it was the mannerly thing to do, and partially because no sane person wanted to eavesdrop on the conversations of magi. It was considered bad for ones health.


    The two entered Elijah¡¯s old weapon hall, where the rows of weapon cases seemed to flank their every movement. Scylla said nothing, watching Vash with a cold and unreadable expression.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been having... dreams lately. I can¡¯t remember anything that happens in them, but I know they¡¯re happening. Like... like someone is trying to talk to me. But I can only barely hear that they say, and the words blow away like sand when I wake. And yet... the words are growing louder, more insistent. And then, when I¡¯m awake...¡±


    Coin trailed off, his gaze affixed to his reflection in one of the display cases. ¡°When I¡¯m awake, there¡¯s this... feeling. It comes over me sometimes, like a... what¡¯s the word? When your mind feels like it wanders off?¡±


    ¡°A trance?¡± Scylla suggested.


    ¡°Yeah. One of those. And when this trance hits, it¡¯s like... It¡¯s like something is calling out to me, and the voice is so distinct that it overtakes everything else.¡± He turned, slowly, and met Scylla¡¯s eyes. Her expression betrayed nothing. ¡°Am I going nuts?¡±


    She was silent for some time. She reached over, lazily brushing a finger over a blade on the nearby wall. ¡°No, Coin, you aren¡¯t going insane, or anything like that. Would that you were. It would make things so much... easier for everyone.¡± Her eyes suddenly met his, and the newfound intensity in her pupils made Coin¡¯s posture stiffen. ¡°There is something out there alright, something... massive and inhuman. And it¡¯s getting closer.¡±