"I can't help but think it might have been nice to mention Skill Suppression."

"I didn't want to worry you."

"Ah, bless your heart. It was much nicer to find out about it when he shot me in the face. Glad you didn't rob me of the surprise."

"You're doing a helluva a lot of bitching for someone who's just been power levelled to Level 25."

"I know. It's almost like I was tricked into a fight for my life without having access to all the necessary info."

"Little man, you were always going to be able to power through anything the Hood could hit you with. Technically, you insanely out-leveled him. You should have been able to shrug it off without a thought."

Lowe stopped dead in the corridor outside the entrance for the Dungeon and turned to glare at the . "Technically! I was this close-" he held his thumb and forefinger apart in front of Latham- "to wearing a dagger as a conversational piece eyepatch for the rest of my life. So don't come at me with this 'technically' bullshit."

"But you didn't. You smoked a Level 30 Heroic Raid Boss. You've got to be feeling pretty good about that."

To be fair, Lowe was feeling pretty damn epic right now. He'd dropped the 15 Progress Points (5 standard plus 10 Threshold Bonus) into Wisdom and was enjoying the upgrade 115 Points there had on his regen. So much so that he would have to think about which of Mylaf's goodies he would have as his 'go-to' snack. With all the extra mana, regen, and then the impact of his enhanced Roll with the Punches, he wasn't clear about where he'd get his best value. He would need to spend an evening with a calculator and a stats spreadsheet.

And that was before talking about his gear reward . . .

"Can I see it again?" Latham asked eagerly.

"Dude, if you want your own Bracelet of Accuracy, you can spend a few seconds soloing that Dungeon yourself," Lowe said, touching the leather vambrace he'd looted from the Hood's corpse. Its stats were reasonably unremarkable, especially for a Legendary piece, but the active Skill was cool. It guaranteed a critical hit, regardless of any defensive mitigations.

"Don't be that guy. I couldn't equip it anyway - it's sub-35."

"Well, boo-fucking-hoo to the high Levelled tosser."

"You know, I don't do this job for the admiration or the undying thanks of those I help, but you could try a little harder on the old 'you're the whole reason I'm still alive, oh and by the way, thanks for the life-changing information that let me double my fucking level' thing."

"Feel better now you've got that off your chest?"

"Not as much as you would think."

They carried on walking and reached the stone staircase leading up to the city of Soar proper. Lowe put his hand on the bannister and turned to Latham. "You know I'm grateful, right? For everything."

Latham winked back at him. "Don't get mushy on me, little man."

And they made their way upwards.

*

It was the same who was waiting at the entrance to their destination. "Look, I've told you this already. You're not high enough -"

Lowe gave her the finger as he walked past, breaching the Level 25 barrier and moving into the Temple proper. He located the portal stone to the third floor and was frustrated to see it was showing as 'unavailable'.

"Don't worry, I've got you." Latham reached forward and activated the portal. "But, for political reasons, I'm going to wait down here. I'm not sure how Gravalk will view you strong-arming one of his priests, and it might be prudent for me to have some distance if he orders your immediate execution. I can probably slow down aid getting there, too, if it comes to that."

Lowe nodded. "Do you have any advice?"

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Latham's face was impassive. "Dude's a Level 30 . By my reckoning, you have the equivalent of twenty Levels on him - not that he will know it - and he's put your girl in danger. The best advice I can give you is to remember to leave enough of him alive so he can talk."

"Good thinking." And Lowe stepped through the portal.

Interestingly, it appeared that having that second rank in Intelligence reduced his portal nausea a bit when he reconstituted. Aintra Webber was directly in front of him, looking confused.

"Mr Lowe, we weren't expecting you."

"No one expects me. I'm mysterious like that. Like a particularly virulent virus. Is Priest Setort about?"

There was a moment when the eyes flicked to a chamber on the left of the hallway, and then he was looking Lowe in the eye and was smiling broadly. "I'm afraid Priest Setort has already left for the day. Since the death of the High Priestess, it has been difficult to keep some of the younger priests to normal office hours."

Lowe pushed past the older man, not feeling especially good about the discourtesy, but he hoped Aintra would understand. Eventually. He crossed to the chamber the had glanced at and tried the door. It was locked.

"Mr Weber, please open this door for me."

Aintra shook his head. "No sir, I will not. You have no right to be here. None at all."

"Fine. Be like that." Lowe channelled Slugger and drove his closed fist into the door.

Nothing happened.

Aintra coughed discretely. "Obviously, it goes without saying that the doors on the third floor of the Celestial Temple are proof against any number of physical, magical and telepathic attacks. Whilst I applaud the spirit of . . . erm . . . hitting it very hard, I'm afraid that approach will not be successful."

Lowe felt the burn of embarrassment on his cheeks. He was not too proud to admit it, but his recent success in the Dungeon, as well as the impact of resetting his Progress Points, had left him feeling somewhat invincible. He'd even been able to forget, however briefly, that he no longer held his Class.

And now he'd been brought down to earth with a bump. By a door.

Oh, well. Back to the drawing board.

"Mr Weber, it is essential that I speak with Priest Setort. This is a matter of urgency. I believe he is in possession of information connected to the murder of Gianna d'Avec. I must speak to him immediately."

"What's all this?"

The other priest Lowe had spoken to in the immediate aftermath of the slaying of the High Priestess - Hiwalk - came out from his own chamber, a furious look on his face. There were small birds flying around his head. Made of flame, Lowe was somewhat surprised to see.

"My apologies you have been disturbed, Priest Hiwalk. I was just explaining to this gentleman that I cannot possibly allow him access to the chamber of Priest Setort in his absence."

Hiwalk's eyes blazed fire - Lowe wondered what a actually had as a Skillset - and he whirled on the inspector. "Have we not been bothered enough? Is it not sufficient to you that we have lost our High Priestess? That our entire cult will now be dismissed from this floor and back down to the very base of the Temple? That our god will shortly be removed from the Council? Is that not enough for you!"

The man's voice increased in volume until he was bellowing out his final words, the birds circling his head screeching out their own anger.

Lowe took an instinctive step backwards before reminding himself that - even if just in theory - he had a whole host of levels on the priest. Oddly, it was hard to remember that in the face of such white-hot rage.

There was a moment of silence, and then Aintra filled the void. "It is not that we do not wish to be helpful, Mr Lowe. Rather, that it is not appropriate to breach a chamber door in the absence of its priest. There is a way that these things are done, you will understand."

"Oh, don't be tiresome, Weber." Setort's in there."Hiwalk seemed to have settled down remarkably quickly. "Just open the damned door, and then the good inspector can do his business and leave."

Aintra looked disconcerted. "But, sir, the chamber is locked. The priest has left for the day."

"And I tell you, he has not. We have . . . dinner plans. We discussed leaving together just this morning. Patronising he may be, but Setort is reliable to a fault. He will be in there. Probably asleep. Just open the damned door."

Pursing his lips, Aintra activated Secret Keeper, and the door swung open.

The first thing that struck Lowe was he was always surprised by how much blood the average human body kept inside.

No, that was not quite right. The very first thing that hit Lowe, along with Aintra and Hiwalk, was a violent gust of wind that knocked them off their feet. The rumination about blood was the next thing that entered Lowe's head as he tumbled, head over foot, to rest against the wall.

But he was up and on his feet in no time - thank you, Roll with the Punches - and running back into Setort's room. He crossed to the window - ignoring the shredded corpse that no amount of health potions was going to coax back into the land of the living - and made a grab for the figure jumping out into the air beyond.

The assassin flung some sort of nasty Skill his way, shearing off at the elbow the arm that was gripping their hooded cloak. Some sort of Wind Mage, Lowe assumed. He made sure Grid View captured the exposed and startled face of the woman who dropped towards the ground, her descent slowing before - as a tiny dot - landing safetly and running off into the milling crowds.

"Mr Lowe, your arm!" Weber was looking at him in horror.

"Oh, not to worry," he shrugged, although less than successful than he would previously have done before losing a limb. "It'll grow back soon. Unlike, I fear, Prince Setort."

They each turned to look at the body, blood still leaking from what looked like hundreds of wounds.

Whatever Setort might have to say about is stalking of Arebella, someone had managed to silence him in the very nick of time.