Shin quietly hoped that if he saw it again, he might respect it less. “One more time.”

Hilde nodded, reaching over the Council table to restart the captured scrying as the assembled Shinki Itten leaders watched with grim eyes and gritted teeth. Again the Player brought his sack of newly purchased wheat to some remote corner of the city. Again the Player shoved his hand in, carelessly spilling the grain they had just paid so dearly for. Again the Player pulled an almost comically small bag from deep within, arcane runes faintly across it.

Again the Player opened the magical bag wide, allowing the corpse of the Red Player to again spill out.

Nope. He was still impressed. Dammit.

Waving away the image of the Red Player corpse being doused in some sort of Rejuvenation Potion by his conspirator, Shin caught Bex’s eye. “Have you seen anything like this happen before?”

The girl shook her head. “No way. A couple aspects of it, maybe, but never all together like this. And never at this sort of scale. Especially not the whole ‘Corpse in a Holding Satchel’ meme; people have talked about that but as far as I knew no one had ever pulled it off.”

“Why not?” Shin fussed at his half-braided hair, annoyed that it could distract him even given the seriousness of their situation. “It certainly seems effective.”

“Yeah but the risk involved is insane. Look,”–Bex thumped a finger into the table for emphasis–”If you consent to your corpse being put into one of those? You’re completely at the mercy of whoever owns the bag. Unless they decide to let you out, you can’t even choose to respawn at your home binding. If they don’t, you’ve basically just deleted your character.”

Hilde grunted. “Hard to imagine any Player having that level of faith in some stranger, let alone Red Players. But somehow they exist, and they’re all focused on us.”

“By the way,” Momo cut in, gesturing towards the image of the freshly revived Red Player. “What did this one wind up doing? Was anyone hurt?”

“He snuck down to one of the granaries and tried to ‘accidentally’ start a fire,” Hilde replied, dismissing the window. “We had eyes on him the whole time, of course, so he didn’t get very far. Though I guess he gets to just try again tomorrow, huh?”

“Wait wait wait,”–Shita waved a hand, the blacksmith’s brow furrowed–”Can we back up about a dozen steps? I still don’t understand everything that’s going on here.”

“I don’t think I understand anything that’s going on here,” confessed Ole, one of the hobgoblin council members. “I don’t even get why it’s all in bags of grain? Shouldn’t the Players they’re roping in to transport those think it’s all suspicious?”

Bex shook her head. “Oh, that’s actually super common. New Players get paid to launder trade goods all the time; most of the tips and tricks guides for Magica recommend it as an easy way to make money when you’re first starting out. There are always more established Players out there with, like, a hundred bales of alfalfa who are looking for a hundred new Players to sell it one bale at a time. Usually straight back to themselves.”

Ole scratched under his cap. “Uh. Why. Why, though.”

The Player shrugged. “I dunno all the details? It’s some sort of Merchant thing.” She paused briefly to click on a notification prompt that appeared at her side, eyes scanning the message as she distractedly carried on. “It’s something about earning more Sales points from multiple first-time customer transitions rather than bwa~! Haha!”

Cutting off her own muddled explanation with a peal of laughter, Bex whipped up a reply window and began clacking away a message of her own. Her clear glee at whatever her private exchange was faded somewhat when she realized that all of the eyes of the Council were still on her. “Oh, um sorry. My friend sent me a message; she’s really funny and, um,”–The girl cleared her throat, ears folded back in embarrassment–”Sorry about that.”

Shin didn’t miss that she still hit ‘Send’ on her reply.

“Anyways,” Bex continued, her tone chastened, “The Players physically bringing these bags into town definitely don’t realize they’re doing anything out of the ordinary. Just some garden variety cheesing.”

“Isn’t it still violating the spirit of the rules, though?” Mimasu offered, tapping the feather of his quill thoughtfully against his cheek. “That can’t be how it’s supposed to work, even if lots of people do it. Maybe if we lodged a complaint with the Moderators, we could–”

“Really, Mimi? That’s your suggestion?” Shin managed to keep the scorn out of his tone, but the bristled fur down his neck told the truth. “You think we can save ourselves by tattling?”

“It’s a moot point either way,” Momo cut in, her tone and posture dousing a potential argument. “I doubt the buyers are even using this Merchant system or whatever, so there’s nothing there to complain about in the first place. It’s all just a facade.”

Shita clacked her teeth before huffing out an exhausted breath. “Okay, but what about the bodies? I thought Red Players respawned on the other side of the world or something.”

“Look,” Shin rose from his seat, “Should I just run down the whole plot for everyone?”

The Wild Son council member scoffed. “Oh, so you’ve got it all figured out huh?”

“Yeah I do, so shut up and let me walk you through it.” The unruly kobold grumbled, but didn’t interrupt as Shin began to pace his way around the council room. “Okay. Step One: Our enemy recruited somewhere between a dozen and two dozen Players into their plot against us, all low leveled or even brand new. Higher level Players are obviously attacking us too, but they aren’t part of this particular scheme.”

“That’s a hell of a thin silver lining,” Gero grumbled.

Shin pressed on. “Step Two: Those Players cause trouble in Shinki Itten, turning Red in the process. They hurt us, we kill them. Step Three, these new Red Players corpses vanish, and they respawn,”–Shin snapped his fingers, pointing an expectant finger towards the Wild Son–”Where?”

The kobold hesitantly responded, almost in spite of himself. “Uh, in the Red Wastes, right?”

“Bzzt, wrong, no prize.” The Wild Son scowled as Shin snapped his fingers again, pointing this time to Bex. “And they respawn where?”

The Player shifted uneasily in her seat. “Um, at their Starting Zone.”

The council buzzed at that, all breathless murmurs and folded ears as Shita shot up from her seat. “What! You told us that Red Players were banished to the other side of the world!”

“I know, I know! I’m sorry!” The mortified girl waved away whatever joke her friend had just messaged her as she pleaded her case. “It never even occurred to me! I mean, it should be useless anyway! Red Players can keep their Starting Zone respawn if they really want to, but what would be the point? The guards would just kill them on sight, so their only real option is to go to the Red Wastes!”

“Unless being a corpse is what they want,” Shin retorted, beginning to pace again. “Which it is. So we’ve got a bunch of Red Players popping up in some agreed-upon Starting Zone, which quickly become a bunch of Red Player bodies piling up in that zone. Which brings us to Step Four.”

Shin whirled around, swept up in his own dramatics. “The Inside Man.”

“Or woman,” Bex offered. “Or whoever. Basically the only way this all works is if there is some Player permanently hanging out in this Starter Zone without ever finishing the final quest.”

“They’re the lynchpin,” Shin agreed. “This Player is the one who collects the Red corpses in Holding Satchels, hides them inside bags of trade goods, and then invites in other Players to unknowingly smuggle them into our city.”

Bittercup rubbed at her temple. “I get that someone could do all of that, Shin? But I find it hard to imagine any Player I’ve ever met, let alone a Player who’s Red or Red sympathetic or whatever, signing on for a shit job like that. They’d just get bored and give up, wouldn’t they?”

“I’d guess they’re being paid somehow,” Bex mused, “In something they can translate into real-world money. That, or they just really hate Shinki Itten.”

“Great,” Bittercup slumped back in her chair. “I love both of those options.”

“You are right though, Bittercup.” Shin slipped back down into his seat. “A Player like that would be incredibly rare, so I doubt we’re talking about more than one. Maybe two.” The Schemer pounded his fist into his palm. “We deal with the Inside Player, and we’ve dealt with this problem.”

Shita tilted her head. “Deal with them how?”

“Don’t know yet,” Shin admitted. “I guess I’ll decide once I get them within biting distance.”

“Can we even do that?” Gero seemed unsure. “Aren’t Starting Zones made to be that…whatever it is, that ‘Instanced’ stuff? That’s why this was such a nasty plan; they’re holed up where we can’t ever get to them.”

Bex perked up. “Actually, that’s why I’ve been chatting with my friend this whole time.” She gestured grandly towards her messaging window. “She’s wanted to try Kingdoms of Magica for a while, so I suggested meeting up so I could help her through it. I’ll have her pick the Starting Zone where all of this is going down, I’ll temporarily sync to her level, and once we get to the end of the questline we should be in the same Phase as the Inside Player.”

“That’s a great idea and all,” Hilde interjected, “But we’re all skipping past the most important step: Figuring out which Starting Zone”. The hobgoblin unfurled a map onto the council table, detailing Shinki Itten’s section of the world. “Based on the type of hats we’re seeing on the patsies, the Starting Zone they’re coming from is from something called ‘Phase Five’.”

“Phase Five, huh?” Bex considered that. “I’m pretty sure that’s the Demon King storyline?”

“Maybe, but more importantly it’s also when Quercus was formed, meaning all of these,”–She indicated a half dozen or so marks in the territory between Shinki Itten and Quercus–”Are Phase Five Starting Zones within the distance that a new Player could travel to Shinki Itten in a day. So unless you have six or seven friends waiting around in the wings, it’s going to take-”

“Don’t worry about that,” Shin breezed, waving a dismissive hand. “I’ll find out which Starting Zone it is. Give me ten minutes.”

Hilde stared at Shin for a moment. “....You’ll find out which Starting Zone it is.”

Shin nodded. “Yep.”

“In ten minutes.”

“That’s right.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

She began carefully rolling up her map. “You don’t know which one it is now?”

“No,” Shin admitted. “I don’t.”

“But you’re going to find out, and it’s going to take ten minutes.”

The Schemer bobbled his head thoughtfully. “Honestly? Maybe more like five.”

“I see.” Hilde held out the tightly rolled map to the rest of the gathered villagers. “Anyone else who also thinks Shin is super fucking annoying should feel free to take this and hit him in the head with it.”

Ten hands scrabbled for the improvised bludgeon, but Gero snatched it up first. “Go and figure it out, then,” she declared, pointing the map at Shin, “You want to leave tonight, right?”

Shin nodded. “And we should keep the group small, to minimize attention. Maybe four, not including Bex, so-”

Gero smacked him on the top of the head with the map. “Clock’s ticking. Get going. We’ll meet you at the gate.”

“Ow.”

Gero bopped him again, Shin’s ungainly scramble out of his chair and out through the door the only thing that saved him from a third punishment. Woof. It’s almost like they had no appreciation for talents like his.

To be fair, Shin was forced to admit to himself, he had the opposite problem and it wasn’t so hot either. As soon as Hilde brought her guards’ discovery to the council, the strange angles and arcane eddies of this scheme had immediately unfolded in his brain. Every twist clear, every turn a forgone conclusion, as if Shin was simply remembering something he’d already known.

Because Shin knew, knew in his bones, that if his and Glandem’s positions had been reversed it was exactly the sort of plot he might have come up with. It was troubling, admiring the artistry of someone conspiring to destroy everything you love. To feel a sort of unsettling comradery with it.

Shin could only thank the Goddess as he marched through the guardhouse and down into the sparsely populated Shinki Itten dungeon that he could cleanse his palate with some villainy he absolutely did not have to respect.

Ceril had not exactly thrived under his original captivity, which had basically amounted to a strongly insisted upon vacation. Now that he was instead confined to a spartan cell with minimal access to the outside world, he was falling quite a ways short of even that bar. The perpetually haughty princeling was, frankly, a mess, his once-gleaming silver hair a birds’ nest and his fine elven features noticeably sunken.

He didn’t even seem to notice Shin’s approach, simply staring down at the bowl of porridge he couldn’t bring himself to eat with hollow, defeated eyes.

Couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person, as far as Shin was concerned. But shocking as it was, Ceril had something Shin needed. If only the poor bastard knew; Shin had no doubts that the mere thought of having leverage would be more than enough to bring the arrogant spark back to the wayward elf’s eyes.

Wasn’t going to happen, though.

A sharp knock on the bars of his cell was enough to knock Ceril out of his grim reverie, the elf yelping in shock and flailing so wildly that he managed to send his entire bowl splattering to the other side of his cell. He thrust his spoon out shakily before him, as if it was a sword with which he might ward off this sudden ambush. Then his eyes adjusted, and he realized who it was. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Afraid so,” Shin confessed. “Has anyone else been down here to visit you?”

Ceril sniffed, setting his spoon down on his small table and adjusting it with unnecessary care. “Yes. Maybe. You don’t know. You don’t know everything.”

Too true. “Well I do know that we’re going to have to move you soon, so you should start gathering your things.” Shin gestured vaguely towards the sparse cell. “Such as they are. The spoon and the bowl, I guess. Gather those up.”

The spark began to sizzle in Ceril’s eye. “Oh? So you've finally realized that it is a crime and a sin to keep royalty in this shithouse? Did you receive a demand, perhaps, from my father, the King of all-”

“Ha! No.” Shin ran a hand lightly across the cell’s bars, his fingers tapping out a small ping over every one. “The Mods told me that this part of the Zone is going to be folded into the Instanced stuff, so we’re moving you to a cell on the other side of the city.” The kobold tilted his head thoughtfully. “It’s actually a little smaller than this one, I think?”

“A little smaller?! How is that even possi–?!” Ceril’s tirade fizzled out in his chest as the trap unsubtly set in Shin’s words seized his mind. “Instanced stuff? What do you mean, ‘Instanced Stuff’?”

Good, Shin hadn’t misremembered. Ceril was simultaneously a terrible liar and utterly without sincerity, meaning that even with the feebleness of his attempts at deception it was often difficult to know what he truly felt. But there was one emotion Ceril felt with real, genuine honesty: Fear. And when the prince had mistakenly thought that Shinki Itten might be a Starting Zone, that it might be some sort of Instanced content? He’d shown unfeigned fear, clear as day.

The hapless elf wasn’t honest enough or imaginative enough to fear something he hadn’t personally seen, not to that extent. What were the chances Glandem had control of two Starting Zones?

Low enough that Shin was willing to take the risk, at least. And now the game had begun in earnest: If Ceril had actually been to Glandem’s toy Starting Zone, could Shin get its information out of him without the elf being any the wiser?

Of course he could. This wasn’t even going to be chess. It was Rock Paper Scissors, and Ceril refused on principle to consider that he had any option that wasn’t Rock.

“I don’t know why you need to know,” Shin replied, allowing a smug lightness to color his tone. “But I guess you might as well; it’s not as if there’s anyone else around here who’d appreciate my efforts.” The kobold puffed out his chest, adopting an air of smug satisfaction. “I’ve been in talks with the people who rule this world, and I’ve permanently secured the safety and stability of my Side. Within the week we’ll be a officially re-classified as a Starting Zone, and–”

“NO!” The sheer violent volume of Ceril’s desperate outburst took even Shin by surprise, the kobold recoiling as the imprisoned prince flung himself at the bars and tried his best to rip his way free. “No, you can’t DO that to me! You stupid goddamn animal!”

“H-Hey!” Shin stammered, not having to fake his shock. “You can’t talk like that to me!”

“Shut up!” Ceril snarled, his face a mask of outrage. “You don’t know! You don’t know anything! A Starting Zone?! You’re going to doom us all!”

“You’re just being dramatic,” Shin retorted, pursing his lips. “What do you know, anyway? The Mods say Starting Zones are great!”

“Oh really? You fucking idiot? You stupid goddamn child? You think they’re–” And then, in the second surprise of the conversation, Ceril screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Wait, was he calming himself down? Was Ceril actually trying to collect his thoughts?

Shit. Starting Zones really must be awful.

Sure enough, when Ceril managed to speak again his voice was ragged, but less explosively confrontational. “You don’t know because you’ve never seen one. How could you know? They are a nightmare. Believe me, Shin: You should not want this place to become a Starting Zone.”

“Um…hm.” Shin made a show of letting Ceril’s uncharacteristically measured words sink in. “Wellll~....I don’t know. I mean, it’s not like you’ve actually seen a Starting Zone either, so you also don't really know right?”

“Oh, I don’t know?! You absolutely brain-dead little-!!” Once again, Ceril managed to reign himself in. “I have seen one, Shin. My father took me to a Starting Zone, once. I think he was considering having me run it or something.” The elf shivered at the thought, his eyes haunted. “Thank the Gods he changed his mind. The people in that place…every single one of them was like that…uh, what’s the name of that rancid trash can guy of yours. With the pigs.” Ceril squinted at Shin. “Poops?”

“Sure.”

“It’s a whole town of Poops, Shin! They have all these problems, and dangers, and torments and they just, they just never go away.” Ceril dropped down onto his cot with a shudder. “Trust me, Shin. You don’t want your home to be anything like Brightly.”

And there it was. A big fat Rock, smartly wrapped up in Paper. Just like a present.

“Well gosh, Ceril. You’ve convinced me.” Shin offered the elf a shrug of defeat. “I’ll cancel the deal.”

The elf let out a gasp of a breath. “Oh thank the Gods. For once you listened to reason.”

As much as it irked Shin to admit it, perhaps one present deserved another. “Maybe I could talk to the guards. See about finding you some more room?”

Ceril scoffed, his regal pride restored by the taste of victory on his lips. “Ha! If you think you’d be doing me a favor by giving me access to more of this mutt pile, you are sorely–”

“Okay nevermind then bye.”

Goddess that hit the spot. Shin couldn’t resist a bit of swagger in his gait as he strode out of the guardhouse, raising his voice to call out to the small group that was waiting for him. “Well? Did I make it?”

Bex tapped a finger against her summoned window. “Seven minutes. Probably only earns you the silver.”

Shin shrugged grandly. “I don’t know what that means but I’d look great in silver.” Hm. In addition to Bex, Momo and Gero, Mimi and Hanbun had come along. And, to Shin’s momentary surprise, General Wren. “Are you coming with us, general?”

“Thought I might,” the older elf replied. “The destination’s somewhere between here and Quercus, right? Well, I know that terrain better than anyone else in the city, so I’m the best choice.” He adjusted the clasp of his cloak, turning his head to gaze out through the city gate. “Besides. If this is a place Glandem runs, there’ll be Oaken Elves of one stripe or another. I need to know the situation at home.”

Right. Well, no arguing with any of that logic. Six was definitely too many people, though. “Glad to have you, Wren. We’re trying to run light, though, so I think Mimi should probably–”

Momo spoke up. “I’m staying, Shin.” Before the other kobold could respond, the priestess pressed on. “Shinki Itten is under too much strain for me to leave. I need to be here, day to day, to make sure that there is something you can all come back to.”

Huh. Shin had to confess, he’d taken Momo’s presence as granted. But what she was saying made a lot of sense. Still, he couldn’t keep his tail as high as he might have liked as he offered his friend a smile. “You’re right, of course. It’s such a comfort that our home will be in good hands.” He shot a glance towards Mimasu. “A good pair of hands, actually, because five is still too many so Mimi should–”

“I’m not going either.”

Shin furrowed his brow, tail sinking further as Gero’s words sank in. The woman scowled down at the ground, unwilling to meet Shin’s eyes as she grumbled. “It’s a diversion, I guess. They said that if I stayed, it might take Glandem longer to realize you left. Or something. I don’t know.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Yeah.”

It suddenly occurred to Shin that he had never been in a different zone than Gero. Not once in their entire lives. Shin wasn’t entirely sure how long a period of silent contemplation it took him to chew through that fact, but he suspected it might have been awkwardly long. He hadn’t even noticed that Mimasu was taking notes. “Well…feed my fish for me?”

“Sure,” Gero agreed with a faint sniff. “Definitely.”

“And crush anyone who gets too close to them?”

“I’ll crush them so much,” the woman exclaimed, finally lifting her head to meet Shin’s eyes. “I’ll crush them right into the ground.”

“Okay. Good.” Can we muster up a bit more than that, Shin? “Yes. That’s good.”

Wren gave Shin a reassuring clap on the shoulder as the kobold watched Momo and Gero turn away, his two oldest friends walking up the path and back into the city. Away from him. What other option did he have but to shoulder the travel bag that Hanbun offered him and turn in the opposite direction?

The path was to Brightly, but Shin’s heart was dark. The irony was deeply annoying. But Shin had to respect it.