Our celebration over the Thieves Guild’s defeat lasted days.

Nonasia hunted for rare treats, retrieving exotic deep-sea fish and variations of seaweed that tasted similar to lettuce.

At sunset, we would eat while sharing stories of past adventures, jokes, and simply enjoyed the day-to-day freedoms.

Pitch put on a multitude of one sprite plays, reenacting joyous scenes of her annoying helpless guards or playing pranks. While the island was peaceful, we couldn’t stay forever. We needed to return to the city, to check on our friends, and bear witness to the destruction we caused. Even if only to discover the extent of the Thieves’ Guilds' losses.

The rising flames of the Fire Elementals’ dinnertime escapades would catch the attention of someone before she finished. After the dragon, any fire of that scope would receive the Firefighters’ Guild’s fastest responders. Upon discovering the Fire Elemental, they would then call the Adventurer’s Guild, as they could deal with the menace thanks to their training.

We hoped not even their quickest response time would leave the headquarters in anything but shambles. So Convon, Zekkas, and the rest of our friends should be safe from immediate reprisals. They needed to be warned of any Guild Members who weren’t present during the night, who might decide that revenge was their best option.

Any basic questioning would lead back to us. The Guards knew Pitch, seeing as she helped lure them away, keeping them safe from the fire. That would allow them to start with a lead. As Delilah’s predicament proved, The Council would let me rot if it served their interest. This might do it if they decided a fledging Thieves Guild who owed them favors would be useful.

The question remained of what to do after we finished warning them. We couldn’t return to our apartment, Ferris wouldn’t allow it. Which made sense. The fact he didn’t boot us out because of creepy messages, gross packages, and door-knocking pranks was a miracle. Even if he welcomed my return to the apartment, was it the right call?

They proved they would commit arson to see me dead. That failed, so would they escalate? Stop with the targeted burning of my room and torch the entire place? Maybe plant explosives? Or would they skip straight to murder? Mrs. Hudsil wasn’t subtle about her affection towards me when we spoke in the crowd. Nobody knows who saw that conversation or what implications it might have.

Ferris's apartment was off-limits. Not the biggest deal. Other places offered rentable apartments, ones that didn’t require a trek up three flights of stairs or being woken at the crack of dawn by yelling dockworkers. With the amount Adventurers now paid for my services, acquiring one wouldn’t be difficult.

It was easy to imagine a charming new place. Polished floors, room for a big luxurious bed, and a fridge full of food. Pitch floating about as she watched me work. A simple life of pleasures. The version of myself before meeting Minnius would do it. Now, though. A part of me wasn’t sure.

What life awaited me working under The Council? To grow old under a mountain of regulations and bureaucratic bullshit, as they took their cut? To what end? So if one day, my fortunes bloomed to overshadow their own, they could toss me under the bus as they did to Delilah? Maybe give me a portrait to ease their guilt?

No.

My mental image changed, from a well-lit apartment room to a rose painted on a stone wall, a symbolization of hidden beauty. The first of Minnius’s murals to color the walls of the maze. My favorite of her pieces. Between that, and the hidden room in the Slime Queen’s cave and Nonasia’s Song, the question loomed.

What else was out there? What other hidden beauties, secrets, and treasures remained to be discovered? There were multiple during my adventurers alone. The Bee Queen’s enchanting smile, overwhelming terror in the Dryads’ embrace, messing with the rabbitkin, feeding the mimic. Not every part was traditional beauty. The rabbitkin’s deranged leader proved that on her own.

But it was life. Real-life. Experiences that we couldn’t often find inside the walls of The Capital. They were outside, in the world, waiting. So why shouldn’t someone find them? Why shouldn’t that someone be me?

An attempt at a smile tugged at my lips at the idea. Visions of wandering grasslands, meeting fresh monsters, eating in dingy roadside inns. What maps would smaller communities require? The King’s Decree didn’t say joining a Guild was mandatory. It stated someone who was Soulbound needed to find work outside the walls.

My weekend work at the market told me people would pay for someone with my skills. Plus, if we left on our terms, The Council couldn’t decide to have us killed. Perhaps with a mission that contained another necromancer. Can’t revive if your soul is bound to an undead minion.

Pitch stretched an arm behind my neck. Her version of a hug. The attempt at a smile bloomed into a full-on grin. The two of us roaming the world. It would be fun.

Night fell, and as we ate a dolphin salad that Nonasia prepared, we discussed the idea. Pitch grew more and more delighted at the concept, babbling swear words as she zipped around us in a circle. Nonasia’s reaction was more subdued, not a hard feat when compared with the Sprite.

“Will you come back? To visit me, I mean,” She asked.

“Of course.”

It was true. She helped me, even after my tramping about awoke her. “Besides. You saw me set my resurrection point here. You’re stuck with me until it’s changed.”

That got her to laugh, and she shifted over and gave me a sideways hug. She stank of fish, blood, and salt. It was comfortable in her embrace.

We discussed where to head after she let me go. My suggestion was the western mountains. Rumors told of mysterious caves, territorial snow dragons, hidden treasure, and aggravating forest spirits. A few towns decorated the area, none marked on any official maps. So an experienced surveyor should be welcome.

Pitch clapped her hands at the mention of more fae, her smile wide as she grabbed her pitchfork. Those two actions together made me worried. Did she want to meet these distant cousins, or murder them? Though, knowing her, it might be both.

Nonasia waved away the idea of coming to visit me on my travels. Too much work getting there for a brief trip. Pitch nodded before acting out her question. Is there anyone Nonasia would want to visit who lived in that area?

It was a complicated answer. While some water-based monsters lived there, they were hunted to near extinction by the dragon and the humans were foolhardy enough to brave the ice. She refused to elaborate on how she knew this, but a faint blush in her cheeks gave me a few guesses. That might be worth looking into. An old friend of Nonasia would be a useful contact.

Plan complete, it was time to enjoy the rest of the evening.

Tomorrow, we would return to The Capitol. See our friends and companions, and say our goodbyes. We would meet Nonasia one last time at the cliff's edge before we visited the teleportation gate. She made us promise we would, an easy one to make.

Before we fell asleep, Nonasia sang once again. Her song was one of joy, of a successful hunt, of defending her home. The melody invaded my mind, causing me to walk to her, splashing into the water.

She held me as we sank, her song reverberating through the water.

Her ultimate gift before we left, and my last death in her arms. A repeat, before a change.

Poetic, in a way.

***

It was a strange feeling walking through The Capitols streets without the presence of our Urchin tails. None of them were around. With luck, they remained underground with the cultists. A wise decision, as guardsmen patrolled and folks side-eyed each other as they talked in hushed whispers about the attack on the docks. Any guards we passed looked on high alert, as though looking to lock up anyone who committed a minor infraction.

They needed to prove they could do their job.

Besides, the Dogmen would offer them food, shelter, and someplace warm to sleep with none of the strings the Thieves Guild would attach. While stupid, they weren’t cruel to those who wanted help. Besides, if we got lucky, some humans might decide to worship The Great Stick.

It was hard not to hope so. As annoying as the cultists were, they weren’t evil. An influx of new ideas might give them a different enough perspective to become more respectable.

No one bothered us on our trip to The Guild, though the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. There was something in the air, a heaviness that dampened my spirit. Pitch grumbled at my increased pace. Even with all the guards on the street, it didn’t feel safe.

The feeling dissipated when the doors to the Surveyors Guild shut behind me. Noise engulfed me as surveyors crowded the lobby, chatting in pairs or small groups. The same topic as the people outside, to no one’s surprise. Golden badges gleamed from every chest, though some faces didn’t look pleased to see them. Any that belonged to Howard Stalker’s clique glared as we walked by. Their unspoken desire to attack me wasn’t subtle.

One of them slipped outside as the rest loitered around the door. The group pushed away someone who tried to step out, causing the area to devolve into a scuffle. Shouts arose, but none directed at me. Whatever was going on wasn’t any of my business.

Joyous music sounded from behind the door, spilling into the hall as we entered. The Bard was laughing as her performance delighted the room. Convon danced alongside Zakkas, who spun an elven woman around on his arm.

Guild members chatted and joked, and before we could find a seat, the gnome butler appeared, with drinks at the ready. Pitch took her thimble, and we found ourselves at a table waving to Convon the next time his twirling found him facing our direction.

The elderly halfling sat down, out of breath and smiling. He plucked up his drink, giving an appreciative nod and a word of thanks to the Gnome. He set the glass down and leaned back in his chair, letting out a contented sigh.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Where have you two been? We haven’t seen you since the commotion,” He asked.

“Us? Oh, we were exploring the nearby islands.”

It wasn’t a lie. We did explore the nearby islands. Nonasia really loved showing us around. We chatted more about what we’d seen while away, and as we all finished our drinks, the conversation shifted.

“Convon,” My voice shook, unable to hide the trepidation. “Do you know what happened with the fire?”

He waved a hand, as though dismissing the question. “Of course. Warehouse fire. Some demonic summon? A bit of a mess,” His laugh drew attention. “This place can be wild sometimes.”

My laugh was more subdued, and we lapsed into silence until everyone’s attention turned back to their drinks and dancing. “Yes, and no. That warehouse? That was the headquarters for the Thieve’s Guild. They, well, let’s say they shouldn’t come around to tax you anymore.”

Brown eyes met mine, and his stare hardened. “Explain.”

The explanation took time. His expression didn’t change, even as he listened to me recount my adventure with Delilah. A chuckle escaped him at my description of the Fire Elemental eating boxes and scaring the Thieves’ guild.

Before we finished the story, he ordered another drink. With a sigh, he leaned back and looked at us. “Why tell me this?”

It was a fair question.

“Because we’re leaving the city. If the remnants turn up looking for revenge, someone will be here to tell them the truth.”

“You think someone would come after us?” He asked, before shaking his head. “Never mind. You mentioned the undead. Thank you for telling me this. I’ll spread the word, keep people on the lookout.”

Our final handshake was firm, and there were tears in his eye as we prepared to leave.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and my gaze followed him to where the party raged.

“You’re welcome.”

And with that, we left to see our favorite Siren.

The prickles on my neck started once more when we hit the bottom of the stairs. Howard Stalker and his group of friends stood nearby the door, weapons sheathed, as they watched me.

None spoke or stopped us as we approached the entrance. It wasn’t until we opened the door that Howard’s face changed into a sneer.

“Torug sends his regards, you rat-killing coward.”

My blood ran cold at the words. So Torug had survived? How? We’d guessed the fire would destroy any bind points in The Guild if it reached deep enough. My attempt at irony, considering the bed comment. Someone shoved me from behind, and the door slammed shut with a heavy click.

Locked out and hunted.

Pitch squeaked, a swear that sounded like encouragement, as we moved.

Time to get out of here.

***

Torug made sure we caught glimpses of him as we moved through the city. Our pursuer looked different, dressed in ragged leathers and a makeshift cape. He moved with purpose, vanishing into crowds or down alleyways, but always reappearing to make sure we couldn’t forget about him.

His pace stayed steady as he stalked us out of the gate and down towards the cliffs. As soon as we were out of sight of the guards, he stopped bothering to hide. Instead, he strode along, acting as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

The sound of waves and the smell of seawater filled the air. Rocks skittered down the path in front of us, tumbling off the narrow path and down into the ocean below. Each splash, another stone making its home in the ocean.

Our pursuer spoke for the first time, as we reached a plateau halfway down.

“And where do you think you’re going, surveyor? I thought we explained what would happen if ya took any more jobs outside The Guild?”

My legs shook, and it took a sheer force of effort to turn around and face him. His face was set in a frown, and any desire to play coy vanished. We both knew what happened. No point playing dumb. If he was going to follow us out of the city to hunt us down, we needed to show him it wasn’t worth it. Otherwise, no matter where we went after we died, he wouldn’t stop his attempts to harass us.

“That wasn’t a job,” My voice was mocking.

Pitch laughed, and though it was impossible to see because of her place on my shoulder, my hunch was that her most bloodthirsty smile would be on full display.

“That was a pleasure. Where’s your boss, Grimm?”

“Dead,” Torug admitted with a shrug. “Her spawn point was in The Guild.”

Pitch cut him off, letting out a hysterical laugh. The sprite flopped down on my shoulder, her chest heaving as she tried to suck in air. Once she calmed down, he continued, though her small body still shook with repressed laughter.

We’d be celebrating this news when it was all said and done.

“She sent me off to look for the missing recruits,” His voice sounded strange as he roared out the next question. “What happened to the kids?”

“Sewers.”

His eyes flicked to the city at my response. “In with the Dogmen cultists. Turns out they wanted free food and a place to sleep more than your tutelage.”

That earned me a snort, and he drew a meat cleaver from his belt.

“Well, I’ll get them back. Start again. Make something new. You’re Soulbound, but we both know that doesn’t matter in the end, don’t we?” The light reflected from the meat cleaver, playing on the rocks around his feet. “While I can’t kill ya. I can sure make it hurt.”

“Pity that’s not true for both of us,” My tone was icy. The flash in his eyes told me my guess was accurate. Good. This man would hurt and kill my friends. He was the type who would build another guild. One whose sole purpose was to prey on any who couldn’t defend themselves. No matter how long it took.

He didn’t take my words well, lunging forward with his cleaver. My sword deflected it with moments to spare, as the force of his blow caused me to stumble nearer to the cliff edge. Pitch leaped off my shoulder, wings flapping as she moved off into the air.

Not that he gave me much time to focus on her position.

He attacked again, arm coming down as though he was preparing to chop through a tough piece of meat. My dodge wasn’t graceful, but it worked. The grinding of his teeth was audible, as Pitch started laughing again.

“Stay still!” He growled.

Not going to happen. No one had trained me in any classical combat styles, my usual method of slashing whatever got close was good enough for the dumber monsters outside the city. Torug didn’t seem trained either, happy to attack with both brute force and wild swings.

We each attacked and dodged, though as my breathing became more labored, a smile appeared on his face. His half-orc heritage gave him a significant stamina boost, one he was using to his advantage. Another parry and he knocked the sword out of my weakening grip.

My hand stung, and he laughed. Without a word, he tossed his cleaver to the side and moved in. Pain shot up my legs, slowing me. He grabbed me with ease. In seconds, he spun me, an arm around my neck. Breath wasn’t coming, no matter how much my lungs struggled.

“If ya ever come back, I’ll kill ya. Again and again. No matter how many times,” His breath stank, and his grip tightened. Darkness encroached on my vision when Torug let out a scream.

Air rushed back into my lungs as the pain blossomed in my knees from being dropped onto the stones. It took a minute to turn around and appreciate the scene.

Torug was screaming, his hand covering his eye socket. Its previous inhabitant now decorated Pitch’s pitchfork. She grinned as she bit into it, as he stumbled around swearing. We both watched as he got closer and closer to the cliff edge, but he stopped himself. Unfortunate.

My body protested by making the trip to my feet both slow and painful. Torug got his pain under control. His one good eye focused on me. Blood trickled from between his fingers, droplets splashing on the stone at his feet.

“I’ll gut ya for this. Ya little pet, too,” He hissed at us, taking a shaking step forward.

He would too if he could. That much was obvious. But he forgot something, something important. Exhaustion weighed me down like a heavy blanket. My limbs ached, and my breathing was shallow, but some of my energy remained. Enough to finish him.

He didn’t expect me to rush him.

Though broader than me, he was injured and tired. It didn’t matter. We barreled over the cliff-side, my gut rising into my throat at the sudden weightlessness. Bones snapped as we hit the rocks. Ribs, Legs, arms, all shattering. It didn’t matter. No injury phased him. Torug was a man possessed.

Our landing in the water was like being dropped onto a cobblestone street. Hard. The breath my lungs so greedily gulped down earlier vanished once again. The force of our impact broke me free from his embrace. We both sank when a familiar silhouette started heading in our direction.

Green hair floated around her head as she waved to me and took Torug’s head in her hands. He tried to fight, but she ignored his struggling as she opened her mouth and sang.

Rage, danger, anger. All of this translated into my ears as Torug’s struggles lessened with each note. She left me there with a wave as his movements ceased, dragging him down further into the depths.

Water filled my lungs, and death took me.

***

Nonasia was happy to give us a ride back to the beach, where we met the carts, excited to listen to the story of the fight. Pitch embellished it, even as she showed off the bits of eyeball still stuck to her weapon.

As the boat bumped against the shore, the siren grabbed my hand, holding me in place.

“Thank you for the meal,” She said.

“You’re very welcome.”

Pitch bowed, which got Nonasia to laugh. My stomach sank. We wouldn’t see each other again for a while.

“Are you—”

She cut me off with a shake of her head and a hug. Pitch joined us, and it seemed to last for an eternity before she broke it off. Without another word, the siren dove back into the water, the boat bobbing along behind her, marking her position.

Without a word, Pitch settled herself on my shoulder as we made our way north towards the teleportation gate.

It was time to see the world.

[https://i.imgur.com/RdDjCoP.png]

ADDITIONAL NOTES

Pitch is reading this over my shoulder, so this won’t be the most unbiased piece.

She demands I tell you hello. So. Hello from Pitch.

Demonic Sprites, as I’m sure you’ve gathered, are fantastic companions.

Smart. Flight capable. Small enough to get into gaps. Great scouts.

All in all? Perfect companions.

But well, you know that already, don’t you?

These tortured fae have enough resourcefulness to help in almost any situation.

If you can get one? Highly recommended.

If you have to fight one? Pitch laughed at the idea. My suggestion would be nowhere in the open.

Keep them close, contained, and trapped.

Otherwise, you might find yourself without an eye.

THE END