“This morning, the southern squadron managed to finally track down and slay the drourch that has been assailing our great city! But no longer! I hold, here, its head–a symbol of our triumph and might. Tonight, all shall feast upon its carcass, and all shall rest without hunger. Tonight, your woes are all but forgotten. Tonight, you are safe. Take solace in this gift. For we-” the man cried, his voice booming across the city. But as he continued his speech, Trenton felt a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention away from the great celebration.

“Excuse me.”

Trenton turned to face the voice, an uneasy feeling gathering in the depths of his abdomen. He blinked, just once as he turned, and the world was gone. In an instant, the world peeled away, yielding to a new one unbeknownst to Trenton. His friends–gone–the city–gone. He was alone, no one else around but him and the strange man, who was garbed in flowing white cloths and shone with otherworldly radiance.

They stood on a colossal stone pillar risen high above the earth, cracked and torn all across. Below them was naught but chaos, dust spinning wreaths of dust about the ruins of a marvelous city, shattered buildings and earth piling together around gargantuan purple crystals as if a great battle had been waged there. Above them, the sky was rife with toil, a mass of purple and black clouds which swirled violently together, forming a great, heavenly whirlpool overhead.

The man smiled warmly at Trenton, his bright white eyes like the caress of the mother Trenton never had, “Hello. I apologize for interrupting, but I’m looking for someone,” the man said, his voice smooth, perfect.

Trenton took a step back, disturbed by the dichotomy before him, heaven and hell twisted together in one unfathomable scene, “Where are we? What did you do?”

“Nowhere, once somewhere. In truth, we haven't moved an inch. Your friends are just next to you, but they can not see this. They can not see me.”

“So this is…” Trenton looked across the ruins below, “...Korak,?”

“In time, but my words are not for you, scarab. I’m looking for a young boy named Garrote Maiga. Tell me, do you know where he is?”

Trenton stopped, recalling what Wimbleton told them outside the city, “...no, I don’t.”

“He travels with you by day, and is lost by night? You lie. You must tell me where he is. This message can wait no longer.”

“I’m telling you the truth. I have no idea where he is right now,” Trenton said, a partial truth.

The man regarded Trenton silently for a moment, eyes scanning Trenton’s face for hidden truths before waving his hand. And just like that, the image was gone, replaced once again with the world proper.

Trenton no longer stood on the roof. Instead, he lay on the cold stone ground many feet below the roof, eyes cast skyward. But he couldn’t see the sky. No, all he could see was the many dozens of people leaning over him, each one’s face twisted with concern. Most were unfamiliar, but some Trenton recognized them. Among them were his companions, all of them huddled together to his left, except Karfice for some reason, and the man who gave the speech from earlier, looking on curiously from Trenton’s right, a soldier clad in common regalia standing with a prideful smile at his side.

“-he alright?”

“-thank the gods.”

“-so fast!”

“-so young.”

“-poor kid.”

The common folk clambered around him, pulling at his clothes and prodding, somewhat disrespectfully, at his chiseled body, hardened from his many dances with death. They were much calmer than Trenton would’ve expected from a crowd of commoners, no screaming, no fear, only curiosity. In fact, the people by the gate were also remarkably calm, even after Trenton waltzed in with a fresh severed head attached to his waist. What a weird place.

“Trenton, are you alright!?” Kiva shouted, fussing over him to ensure he wasn’t injured.

“Uh…yeah, fine. Sorry, I just zoned out for a moment,” Trenton replied.

“Little more than zoned out!” The soldier laughed, crouching down, grabbing Trenton’s arm with an iron grip, and practically throwing him to his feet in one clean motion. “You feel from quite a ways. You’re lucky I was so close to catch you,” the soldier said, subtly flexing his rather impressive physique.

The man clad in red and gold laughed, his smile somehow even brighter than the messengers, “Close isn’t the word I’d use, but I digress. Trenton, right?” The man held out his hand, which Trenton took hesitantly. The more and more people that knew him, the worse things had been. Fame came with a price, it seemed.

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Yes, and you are?”

“Officially, I am duke Boreva, but Arthur will suffice,” Arthur looked around for a moment, taking in the celebrations, which were slowly rising back to life. “The people are happy tonight. You’ve come at a good time. Orjrus, stay here. The rest of you, follow me,” Arthur said, the soldier saluting and leaping high into the air, taking Arthur’s position from atop the beast's severed head to hype everyone around them.

“You go ahead, Trenton. I’ll have to look around to see if Dai is here. I’ll meet with you tomorrow morning at the hotel if all goes well,” Sodrue said, eyes scanning the hoard around them.

“Actually, I’ve got a friend who might be able to help you find ‘im. He was the one I mentioned staying with earlier,” Evai perked up as Millie climbed back onto Trenton’s shoulders.

“Perfect, I’d rather not have to comb the whole city again,” Sodrue chuckled.

“I’ll take ‘yah to ‘im. Come on,” Evai said, cheerfully waving Sodure towards the eastern section of the city before stopping to look back at them. “Oh, and thank you, all of ‘yah. I probably won’t see you before you leave, but make sure to stop by sometime when you can. I’ll be waiting,” she smiled, before disappearing within the folds of the people, Sodrue just behind.

Similarly, Arthur made his way through the crowd, bidding them follow in a different direction leading further into the city. The people made way for him, graciously shifting as he approached to allow him through. It was odd. The people clearly respected him, but they did not treat him with all he was due. They treated him more like a close friend than a leader, calling out to him and laughing with him as if he was an old family friend everyone happened to know. And he more than played his part, stopping to shake hands with people every now and then, patting them on the back and loosing a quip or two before moving on.

They followed close behind, making use of his parting effect to seamlessly weave their way through miles upon miles of crowd, finally coming out on the other side after what seemed like ages of walking. And now that there were no more people around, the last couple of stragglers stopping only just to smile at Arthur before continuing towards the square, it was remarkably quiet, almost to an unsettling degree.

“Hey Trenton,” Leo said, shifting nervously at the encroaching mass of shadows around them. Now that they were out of the party, the city was much darker, only a handful of lights here and there lighting the way forward. “What was that earlier? You looked like you saw a ghost.”

“Ghost at the very least. You almost took Millie with you off the roof,” Kiva said, sighing and letting her shoulders sag.

“Don’t worry, I’m alright. I flew like an angel! It wasn’t even close,” Millie smiled, patting her hands one by one over Trenton’s eyes.

“I’ll bet,” Trenton said, sideying Kiva’s slight shake of her head. “Where exactly are we going?” Trenton asked Arthur, hoping to break his long silence.

“Hmm? Are you speaking to me? Forgive me if I’m not fully present, long day,” Arthur said, pointing forward towards a foreboding tower piercing the very heavens ahead of them. “Sorcerer’s Atelier. Wrigley told me you’d be headed this way, but I didn’t realize you’d show so soon,” Arthur smiled back at them over his shoulder. “We should be the last to arrive, so we can start right away.”

“Wrigley?” Kiva asked.

“He’s one of the Sorcerer brothers, and quite a powerful mage at that. He’s one of the two we’ll be meeting with today,” Arthur answered.

“Who’s the other?” Leo asked.

Arthur laughed, “I’d tell you his name, but I think I’ll let him do the honour, easier for everyone that way.”

After a couple more minutes, they arrived at the base of the tower before a set of grand double doors, impressively large. Arthur laid his hand against the door, and the seal glowed a brilliant white, opening inward automatically after a moment's hesitation.

The whole building was dark, not a single light alive in the entire tower, making it difficult to parse particulars, but as far as Trenton could tell, this tower was fairly similar to the one in Wyrm’s perch, a massive open floor space with a catwalk and elevator overhead. They carefully picked their way around the booths stacked top to bottom with gizmos of every type, and up towards the elevator, which quickly took them through the many intricately designed floors of the wizard tower.

Leo leaned over to Trenton, eyes glazed over, taking in the scene around, “Brings back memories.”

“Yeah, it does. And for once, they’re actually fond memories,” Trenton smiled.

Leo looked at him, a hint of mirth appearing on his sorrow trodden lips, “Yeah, guess we don’t really have a lot of those anymore. At least we didn’t have to kill to enter this time.”

“Gods, what a weird problem to even have. Last year we were dining like kings, and now look at us, hardly even alive.”

“But still living.”

“...yeah, still living.”

The elevator clicked into space, stopping gently and letting them off into an extravagant office space clad in opulence. The curtains, which hung from gold trimmed windows, were made of fine red silk; the rugs were woven from the corpses of rare beasts of every type; and the walls were hewn into delicate weaves of stone, tapestries which spanned the entire space in a circle around them. In front of them, sitting in two marvelous, plush, red chairs, were two people Trenton didn’t recognize.

On the left was a young, half elf boy with messy black hair. He had a soft, boyish face, and stout limbs which hung close from his joints. He wasn’t hefty, per say, but he was certainly short, stubby in a way. On the right was a man dressed top to bottom with riches, the finest textiles and fabrics Trenton had ever seen. He wore a perfectly cut tophat with a single feather, a stunning blue suit interwoven with gold trims, and elegant black shoes, which shone like they’d just the other day been polished. In his right hand, he held a beautiful black cane encrusted with dozens upon dozens of jewels, topped off with a massive diamond as the head piece.