The night of Alan’s departure, he focused heavily on summoning powerful memories into the five pearls. Junos’ lightning-fanged sword strike, Mujungos’ cloud slam, the list went on. But he had to leave one as a shade conjuring in case he needed to flee from Gosfor’s realm for whatever reason.

He remained at the foot of Madam Mar’s new tower, sitting on a ledge of his golden-dusted cliff, knowing he had a lot to think about.

Beating himself over the head for failing to see Junos’ true intent would be wasted energy. He had to learn from his mistake. Gods are unpredictable, narrow, stubborn. Like negotiating with all-powerful infants in some cases. He had to hope they weren’t all the same.

What did he know about Itsy’s god?

He was a people-pleaser, apparently. He knew plenty of those types in his old life. Usually they’d do anything for someone new because they were seeking approval, and would sometimes cast aside the long relationships and take them for granted. In this case, that might mean his own realm goes to the wayside for a chance at Jaeger’s promise. Well, Alan’s promise just had to be better, that’s all.

He tossed a rock down the cliff, amazed at how worldly physics just spawned into existence as the universe declares, making its own rules as it goes. Mother Balooma was a Deenom worthy of defending a sacred realm, and Alan in turn was chosen by her to receive it.

Responsibility. Debt. Future. It all weighed heavy with over seven hundred warriors under his proverbial roof. But he was here for it.

Maybe when Mom’s time came, she would find her way to Alan, and he’d have a nice cottage ready to house her. And Trish? She would see how far he’d come.

Green Saro coated his arm at the thought, mixed with tiny slivers of Black.

Doubt, still? He clenched his fist. Why? Because I failed?

More Black overwhelmed the Green.

“I’m a powerful Merchant,” he said aloud to himself, forcing some blessed Yellow affirmations into the mix. “The good of the universe will guide me, and we will overpower the Red Pact.”

He took stock of his weapons and got to his feet. Seeing Neesha cry at the thought of her mother and sister marching for Sar’fidius drained him. He couldn’t let her down. He couldn’t let any of his refugees down.

Checking to make sure his coin pouch was secure, he turned for the tower, where Itsy waited with her arms folded and a long piece of grass hanging from her mouth.

“I’m excited to see what you come up with next, Merchant.” She pulled out the grass, doused it with Gray Saro, and turned it into a green-tipped fencer’s sword.

Neesha came rushing out of Mar’s tower to meet them. “Are you going to talk to them?”

“I have to. I can’t just leave without laying out a plan,” Alan said.

Flint soared overhead on an ice sled of his own making—slipstreams brightening for a fraction of a section like he was riding on a track. “Aha! Woohoo! They are gathered, good Alan.”

“Thank you, Flint!” Alan called to the sky, then turned to Neesha. “Something I’ve been thinking. We rescued a small army from Brack. Shouldn’t that have awarded us some kind of War Title?”

Neesha squeezed her eyes shut. “You… fled, essentially. No prompts or agreements. The war stones all say the same thing. What you did, though noble, was not something worthy of war. Remember, the universe is pushing for swift resolution so things can go back the way they were. Rewards will follow in kind.”

“So the universe favors the likely victor,” Alan said. “Until I pose a credible threat as real opposition, I won’t even be recognized as in the fight.”

“Unlikely Guds needs traction, Alan.” Neesha nodded. “I need traction. To save my mom and sister.”

Alan understood wholeheartedly.

“Hah.” Itsy interrupted. “You all walk like you’ve seen the gates of hell.”

Alan and Neesha were taken aback.

“Life’s just beginning in these stupid lands. Remember we all died once.” She shrugged. “Nothing to be afraid of now. That’s how I see it, anyway. Don’t take second life so seriously, or did you not learn anything from the first?” She whacked Alan on the back, which for some reason, made him sigh with relief.

“Maybe you’re right.” Alan glanced over the other side of the cliff, willing slipstreams into existence. “To the cove.”

He leapt for one, grabbing onto the iciest zipline he’d ever encountered. Wind blew his hair back as he spun and gyrated his body like a worm to kick toward the next slipstream. The vibe of the realm will bend to the mood of its people, and its owner. If nothing else was clear on his universal travels, that was.

His stomach rushed into his chest as the hill blurred beneath him. Itsy and Neesha cheered closely behind as he dipped so deeply his feet nearly skimmed the rocks before he was launched again.

“That’s the spirit, Alan. Waha!” Flint went spinning past him, holding onto his sled and hat simultaneously, reminding Alan of a crazed snowboarder who got too much air in a halfpipe.

Once he grabbed the last stream that leveled him off with the incoming ground, he kicked off of it and landed heroically, cloak flapping in all directions, pearls orbiting him.

In the near distance, the cove was alive with firelight, and endless warriors sat camped out within it… all waiting for Alan. A realm prompt kept fading in and out of his vision, one that he couldn’t ignore.

War Protocol

Realm Reverence must be established.

Choose how your guests and inhabitants may gain reverence in Token. Principles should be decided first, followed by specific commands to be layered on.

Note: Alan Right, as owner, may manually override someone’s reverence as seen fit.

Alan acknowledged the prompt. “Alright. This is a merchant’s realm, so overall I would prefer that fair trades are carried out for the mutual benefit of willing parties. No exploitation for the sole purpose of gaining reverence. Um. Be kind and helpful to one another, since I imagine newcomers will be coming from all different realms. Yeah… essentially don’t be a dick, and conduct commerce.”

Gears fastening clicked in Alan’s head, which he guessed was the universe’s acknowledgement of Alan’s wishes.

“There, that should give them something to start with.” Alan dismissed the follow-up prompts, knowing that if he just sat there all night to keep his realm rules building, he’d never gain traction with Unlikely Guds.

Itsy slowed up by Alan’s side, still holding her grass-made fencer sword over her shoulder. “That’s a sight, ain’t it? For one thing, they look more hopeful than they did in that Brack shit house.”

“I guess they do, don’t they?”

Flint crashed down in front of them, his exploding ice sled sending him rolling over the grass. The whiskers of his beard lifted him upright as he dusted himself free of dirt. “Too much fun. That’s my curse.” He laughed nervously.

“Lucius’ prison in order?” Alan asked.

“It would take the universe itself to break him out.” Flint winked. “We’ll keep ‘em there until you return and the Fate Chasers are safely in Token.”

“Thank you, friend.” Alan straightened as best he could while approaching his army.

Some stood from their seats upon his entrance.

“Alan, is there news from Brack?” One hopeful Knight held his helm tightly in hand.

“My group never made it to the portal,” Another said.

“Friends.” Alan raised his arms. “We are all at a grave disadvantage by opposing Jaeger. He has begun war protocols the instant he declared it. I stand before you willing to give my life to even the odds. The Legion of Fate is on its way back with news from around Ojin. I will head to the Royal Horde realm in hopes to win over their god, Gosfor, and gain us War Title’s worthy of the universe’s recognition. Only then can we begin stealth operations back to Brack.”

Alan noticed some nods in the cave. Some chatter broke out too.

“I’m told that a War Title is worth one hundred warriors. We would stand no chance traversing Ojin without them. And now that Junos is both entertained and furious, you best bet he’s sending his loyal followers to earn their own right now,” Alan went on. “I’m asking you to trust me, as I trust this Knight right next to me.” Alan motioned to Itsy, who saluted with the sword. “I have a war prompt. If I can win over this god, we will have a chance at rescuing your brothers and sisters at Brack.”

“And if you fail, good sir?” A burly warrior with a flask licked his lips.

“I can’t,” his voice deepened. “Too much at stake.”

Fists went up, and Alan was taken aback. “To Alan!”

“To Alan!” the cheer echoed to the back, sending adrenaline coursing through him. It was as if the stars in his realm brightened at the proclamation.

“Think up your strategies, honorable warriors of Hightower. Protect your mage seeker working to watch over you in this troubled time, and await our scouts from Ojin. I will return. We will save your people.”

The crowd was mixed, but most cheered. It reminded him of the warriors of Strangey Town revering him, respecting him, honoring him.

I have to do this.

He turned to Itsy.

“Don’t worry little Merchant. I’ll protect you.” She slapped his back. “Remember.” She pointed up, making her “Scrappy Knight of the Royal Horde” War Title visible. “I’m the only one who can defend y’all.”

Alan smirked at her, then beckoned Flint to open the dangerous portal to Ojin. He hugged him and Neesha goodbye, and held up his hand to the warriors of Brack, closing it into a fist to keep them hopeful.

“Take me with you,” Neesha begged.

“I need you here.” Their eyes locked for a moment. Those soft, blue eyes still made his knees weak. “I will return.”

She cupped his face. “You better.”

The portal was windy and full of unstable gyrations, forcing Flint to look away as he held his staff arm straight to keep it open. “Quickly Alan.”

“Hold onto your knickers.” Itsy flung the fencer’s sword back into the grass. “Unlikely Guds needs its first win.” She winked at Flint, and hopped in.

“Goll-y. That woman is breathtaking.” Flint’s eyes became glassy as he stared into the turbulent portal.

“Keep them sane, Flint,” Alan said, then hopped right behind her.

xxx

“That Wizard is a wonder.” Itsy licked her fingers. “Even with all that static, he managed to get us right back to where Bubbin found you, or rather, where I did. C’mon this way.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Their current section of the blue fog was still draped over Alan’s eyes, but Itsy was patient, dashing to one rock and waiting for Alan to blindly catch up. The rolling sphere of clear air showed endless mushrooms and rushing rivers beneath translucent dirt. Alan didn’t like it. At any moment he worried his foot would be dragged under, and he’d have to encase himself in White Saro until he emerged again.

“Been wandering the under-river before you were reborn, Merchant. Have some faith, ey?”

The hour of travel included two instances of that same rumbling terror he experienced before—realm armies marching their patrolled path. But so far, they hadn’t been caught.

“Times like these, it’ll be difficult to call Gosfor without a Wizard or strong caster type.” Itsy plucked a mushroom and ballooned it into a giant shield. “It’s a good thing my brother would never turn away his blood, even if he does despise me.” She offered a wide-toothed smile.

“The question is, why does he despise you?” Alan asked, hopping from rock to rock to avoid a sunken patch of dirt.

“Something about speaking too plainly in front of sensitive types.”

“You don’t say.”

“Bitches, if you ask me. The lot of ‘em. Can’t handle a little razzle dazzle? Get out of my kitchen. That’s what I always say.” With a deep breath, her attention fled to prompts. “Ah. Got the idiot.” She motioned with her fingers. “Map. Gimme the map, quick, stupid.”

Alan did as he was told, flattening it in her hand.

“Here we are. Yes. Get ready, Merchant. It’s going to be busy in there. Hah.” Itsy winked as a serene Green and Blue portal blossomed at her back. Alan instantly recognized the native Green life Saro, which meant Itsy’s brother was a Healer… of sorts. Perhaps even a clairvoyant like Afarus.

“Listen here. You’re better than that shithead gargoyle, Alan. Make sure you show it to them.” She winked again and fell backward into the portal.

Alan dove without a second thought. When his senses churned from nothingness to form once again, he had to shield his eyes until they adjusted. A town with square Asian-style houses surrounded him on every corner. He was in the middle of a yellow-dirt pathway that led to double-doors the size of a mountain.

“C’mon, this way.” Itsy grabbed onto his arm. She yanked him out of the street and onto a side-walk with low-hanging wooden etchings delineating the types of shops. Sword and shield meant weapons. Glass vials symbolized essence. A traditional medieval house must’ve been an inn.

“Hey!” Alan’s vision was suddenly obstructed when Itsy draped the mushroom shield over their heads, loosening the structure into a sort of umbrella.

Alan wasn’t sure what she was hiding, since everyone else around them had shoes on. Everyone but her.

“They’ll recognize you in a second.” Alan pointed to her dirtied bare feet. “Plus, you’re literally leaving a trail.”

“Guess I could use a wash, eh?” She inspected them for a moment, leaning her weight on Alan. “But it’s not me I’m hiding.” She raised her eyebrows. “You prance around with the hand of a god, save a realm from despair. You move with the five pearls circling you. Bubbin may have been too dumb to notice, but Hyndole mentioned a Merchant of your caliber with a bounty worth a seat at his high council post-war.”

She raised the umbrella for a moment, looking both ways.

Bladesmen and women. Archers. The city was full of them. Oddly he didn’t pin many Knights around. Or maybe the Knights here didn’t wear the traditional armor, and were more like… Itsy.

Nah. So far no one is as weird as her except maybe Flint. The Asian theme made Alan think Gosfor might originally be from Earth. Or at least, he was trying to please someone from Earth when constructing this city.

“Is the whole realm structured like this?” Alan asked.

“Heavens no. There’s the palace lands—all precious metals and gaudy structures. Green lands, where great fruits are plucked and bunk bed camps lay for the outdoors people… like me. The list goes on. And this is Strive Town, where all of Gosfor’s pledged treasures are up for grabs. Maybe I can give you a tour if things go our way.”

“Remember, we have an army waiting back home,” Alan politely declined.

Itsy scoffed. “And here I thought the great God Merchant would want to know the lands of his allies. Stupid me.” She knocked on her own head.

“You’re a little late to the party, Itsy. Guilt doesn’t work on me anymore.” He smirked.

“Alright. I’ll have to make up some damn good reasons to drag you there then. Won’t rely on guilt. Just some harmless deception.” Itsy nodded to herself.

Alan huffed.

Itsy whipped the umbrella back for a moment. “Let me run in and have a wash. C’mon.”

“Isn’t your brother waiting?” Alan said.

“You want a god seeing me dragging Ojin gunk all over his tower?”

“Tower? Is that where we’re headed beyond those massive doors?” Alan asked.

“Aye of course. Ain’t going to be easy getting up it either, but between the two of us, I have faith.” Itsy gave him a determined slap, then stepped behind him and pushed him by the shoulders. “Up you go. Up. Up. Quick, put those pearls away.”

They climbed the stairs as Alan did what he was told.

“Is it safe to?” Alan looked over his shoulder.

“You’ll know when things get ugly, I think.” Itsy hopped in front of Alan and greeted the disturbed innkeeper with a wide smile.

“Itsy Boyar. What in the hells! Shouldn’t you be patrolling with Bubbin?” A man with a pudgy belly and a black silk sash put his fists on his hips. “Ah! You’re dirtying the wood floors. Just had them cleaned! Beni! Mant!” he shouted behind him and snapped.

Two servants with broom and mop came rushing over to wash and dry Itsy’s prints.

“Yeah, about that, I need a wash,” she said. “Want to carry me up the stairs, Nabo? It’ll be romantic.”

The innkeeper scoffed. “Not if your brother held a Green dagger to my throat. Hurry up, you mangy thing. Ah! Why do you have to run in zig zags like that!”

Alan was left dumbfounded with the umbrella mushroom in his hands, until a pleasant-looking woman with a triple-bun hairdo bowed in front of him.

“It is thirty-eight years’ bad luck to hold an umbrella under a roof.” She politely took the mushroom and unsummoned it with a flash of Gray. “You are with Itsy? Please, come to the waiting area. Right this way.”

Alan was guided past the front desk, to a room of many sliding doors, one of which the nice woman pushed open and presented a bench for Alan to sit.

“We will come gather you once Ms. Boyar is done bathing.” She bowed again.

“Thank you.” Alan bowed back and took his seat.

With a lingering eye, she slid the white-paneled door closed.

He slowly unsheathed his Soul Collector so not to disturb any others who might be in the vicinity. With a touch of Black, he summoned Durger, who towered over the door.

Alan’s eyes widened as he motioned for the big Forger to hunch over.

“Sir Alan.”

“Shh. Trying to keep a low profile here,” Alan whispered.

“Of course,” Durger lowered his voice.

“How are you holding up? Sorry about your home realm. I did my best—”

“You are a wonder among both mortals and gods, sir Alan. My sorrow is for the people who lost their way, not for those you managed to save.” Durger sat on the floor.

“Junos was an absolute nightmare to deal with.”

“Indeed. Back in the last war, me and my group were mostly on reconnaissance. Though we had reports of Junos’ odd behavior, he was never said to be this treacherous. Corruption is the fruit of greed.”

“Mm.” Alan rested his arms over his knees.

“On the bright side, your realm looks good filled. Our visitors find hope in your atmospheric radiance. Afarus tells us that the realms’ owner is what determines a realm’s mood.”

“So I gathered,” Alan said. “I’m doing my best, but I fear if I don’t find a way to broker Gosfor with Mujungo, my hope may deplete.”

“There is always goodness in the universe, Alan, no matter how glum things look. Take me, for example. I heard Sir Ooman’s little bark somewhere in the fog last week. After all this time, I will be reunited with my little puppy soon. And like you, I won’t give up until I get there.”

A pulse of determination perked Alan up. “Thanks Durger.”

“For what? It is I who should thank you,” Durger said humbly, touching hand to chest. “And rest assured, the people of Brack are grateful. They are the beginning of Unlikely Guds. I’m sure of it.”

Alan raised his gaze to meet Durger’s.

“Ah! Stop it.” Durger smacked his own arm. “Afarus won’t quit poking me with those vile swords. He begs to be let out.”

Alan sighed. “We will catch up later, then.”

“Farewell, noble Alan.”

With a wave of his hand, Alan shifted souls.

Arm wraps coiled on the floor like white snakes. Golden eyes were shrouded by Black Saro mist that took form as the lanky Bladesman.

“Are you done stroking your own ego, Alan?” Afarus arced an eyebrow. “You have done much and more than most of the living, but that is not cause to bathe in it.”

“I’m aware, teacher.” Alan arced an eyebrow.

“You fail to practice your Saro arts in the nights,” Afarus scolded.

“Been kind of busy.”

“There is no excuse, lest your Origin connections wane. Something you may need now more than ever, I think.”

Alan’s brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Afarus syphoned Saro out of Alan to form himself fully into a living breathing being. Black circles under his eyes, brittle bones, hairy arms and all. “There is a pulsating force in your Saro connections, Alan.” He rose to full height, looking down on him. “It is bright and dark all at once, and it shrouds my ability to see.”

“So you’re not the grand master clairvoyant you thought yourself to be. Maybe best to step in line with the frogs, then.” Alan chuckled, and Afarus smirked.

“Perhaps I will.” He dropped a heavy hand on Alan’s shoulder. “Be careful, my friend. Something in this realm splits your clairvoyant path. It riles me so.” The light in his eyes turned grave, dropping Alan’s mood into concern.

“I hear you.” Alan nodded curtly.

“Guard up.” Afarus dissipated just as the white door slid open.

Itsy stood in the doorway cleaning water out of her ear, alongside the pleasant woman who directed him to the waiting area.

“All done.”

She dripped water everywhere, the slob that she is, making the two servants continue following her even after her bath.

“Why don’t you dry off first and put some shoes on so you don’t get dirty again?” Alan suggested.

“You know nothing, ey? Everything around me is a potential weapon. If I can’t feel it, I can’t mold it. That’s the power of the Gray. So while you hide your orbs in that pouch, I’ll be on high alert, kay stupid?” She winked at him. “Now let’s get a move on.”

They approached the inn exit. “Thanks Nabo!” she called, taking a bamboo stick out of the wall while staring down the pleasant woman. “Need a new umbrella since you took mine. Sun gets hot out here, don’t it?”

Alan waved in apology on their way out. He grew distant as they walked down the city yellow-dirt path. What did Afarus mean by his warning? He seemed shaken. Are we being followed?

Itsy yapped about her old quarters when she first got to the Horde, pointing above a dress shop. “Me and my brother made our way as Healer and Knight when we burned out of our Origins.”

“That must’ve been a terrible way to go,” Alan tuned back in.

“Aye. The whole village got it. Couple of them ended up in the Horde. Saw a few scattered time and again. It’s weird how time passes though. On the one hand, it’s easy to forget some of my old neighbors. On the other, tears come rushing into my eyes when I see someone I miss. These damn realms have a way about ‘em.”

“They do, don’t they?” Alan pursed his lips. He hadn’t met a single soul that he recalled from Earth. Then again, he hadn’t been here too long. What if a year here was only a day there? Then maybe no one he knew passed yet. Or maybe it’s the opposite, and everyone is here. The possibilities are endless and not worth exploring, especially when he resigned himself to stay.

The high sculpted doors loomed, and they did not belong. Blotting out the eastern sun set an ominous tone for whatever was to happen next. The ground at their feet rumbled.

“Here, hold this.” She pressed the giant bamboo umbrella into Alan’s grasp and pushed him aside.

“Who approaches the Tower of Quest?”

“Get outta’ here, Dolfa. Open up. You know it’s me Itsy.” She grabbed a handful of dirt from the floor and fastened it into a glass club. “Unless you want me to act a hooligan and start making a mess, ya dummy!”

“Ah, your highness. I didn’t recognize you. Your Saro is overshadowed by your guest,” Dolfa said, making Itsy pout.

She looked over at Alan. “Guess I should’ve known. Colorless prick.”

Alan threw her signature wink right back at her, twirling the origami-looking umbrella in his grasp.

“Formalities, Madam Itsy. Are you prepared to climb, or do you seek entrance as a spectator?” Dolfa asked.

“Depends if Roland or Gosfor will make time to see me without having to bash my way to the top,” Itsy shouted at the doors, calling the attention of the shop owners trying to refill their fruit stands.

Alan couldn’t quite place the voice of the talking door, or whatever stood behind it, but the inflection sounded familiar. What’s more, his coin pouch shook on its own accord, as if one of his minions was bursting to get out.

“I don’t have such information, Highness.”

“Well, you’ll just have to mark us as spectators then. If I’m stopped, I’ll come back out and ask for a quest prompt. Open up, Borai!”

That’s it! Alan realized. Dolfa sounded exactly like mother Balooma, and something similar to Yogi. A female Borai.

The doors bellowed open on command, causing the shop owners to huddle around their stands as the ground rumbled. Alan lifted his umbrella slightly to see the sun peeking through the crack, and beyond stood a fifty-story tower of that same Asian-type stack the rest of the city was made of. Different colored lanterns hung at every level, and inside, fighters’ shadows peeked through the semi-transparent paper walls.

“Is Gosfor from Earth?”

“Yes, I believe he is. But he came over long ago, Alan. Welp, c’mon then.” She crashed her glass club over the floor and strutted in, leaving Alan to flash a batch of Beige Saro to transform the glass to sand.

Two huge Borai stepped out from behind the doors, awaiting us to cross the threshold. Alan couldn’t help but gape at their ghostly form and branchy pauldrons. They were more decorated than Yogi. Perhaps his elders?

Alan followed Itsy into the tower area, and when the doors bellowed shut, Alan had to greet the Borai.

Itsy yanked his arm. “Do not, Alan.”

“You’ll have to trust me on this one.” Alan shoved the umbrella into her hand. “The Borai and I have a sacred bond.”

“I follow a dumbass.” Itsy tried to shield Alan from the tower’s view. “Suppose Gosfor is watching us from level fifty as we speak. Ugh!”

“I’ll only be a minute.” Alan faced the bears, who stood guard watching outward through magical peepholes. “Excuse me, honored Borai of the Royal Horde.”

One of them tilted their head—Alan could tell by the lankier build that she was female. “Yes, Merchant?”

“Mother Balooma granted me her Ultimus Title, and I journey with a dear friend who is eager to reunite with you, I think.” He flipped out his coin, summoning Yogi with a flash of white lightning.

Yogi came out running and hugged the female. “Dolfi-Baxvier. It has been too long.”

Both Borai’s eyes widened, then immediately abandoned their posts to hug Yogi back.

“Honored brother! We hoped to be reunited again upon Hozzod’s alliance.” Dolfi broke the embrace. “But judging by your unburdened fur, it seems you are no longer attached to his realm.”

“Sister, brother.” Yogi addressed them both. “Our world will grow dark if the realms ally with Hozzod. We have seen it so. There is another way.” He presented Alan below. “Noble Alan has the blessing of mother, and will fulfill his oaths to keep Ojin free.”

Alan thought “free” was a stretch, considering it’s the realm of war and abides by the rules of the universe, but he let it slide, considering anything is better than enslavement by Jaeger and the Red Pact.

The Borai bowed to Alan and Itsy’s level, both on one knee.

They sniffed Alan, to which he opened his arms for them to have at it.

“Mother’s scent is indeed on him. Praise her, dun dun dun.”

“Dun, dun dun.” The two others chanted.

“We are the sacred twins of the White valleys, Alan. Defeated by champions of the Horde and summoned as the tower’s keepers. We are bound here, but we recognize you as a friend.”

“Likewise, Dolfi.” Alan pet her snout. “Yogi is a dear friend, and I hope to shape the universe in an image suitable for noble souls like his.”

“Honorable,” Dolfi said.

“Courageous,” The other agreed.

“Noble.” Yogi bowed.

“Yes, and a dumbass!” Itsy shouted. “Now can we please get going, or he ain’t going to be able to save shit if Gosfor sides with the gargoyle, hm?”

“We will chant for your success. Do not let Ojin fall for the wicked, honorable Alan.” Dolfi rose in a show of strength, flexing out her armored chest and beating it once.

Alan instantly felt less alone in a foreign realm. Friendship is contagious. He’ll wear that armor on the way into whatever awaits in the tower.