The next morning, Gideon awoke to the sound of three dwarves running around his apartment. Unfortunately, his head only seemed to hurt worse than the night before. Flinn had walked home with him last night, and Gideon had collapsed into bed—thankfully, Thora had been up by then. Getting to sleep in his own bed had been a small relief.

Today was a busy day for the three cousins, as they were off to their aunt’s wedding. By the time Gideon got up, Brynn was in the shower, Thora was eating some toast, and Flinn was sitting on the couch wearing a suit. Gideon had never seen him dressed up like that in all the years he’d known him.

“Looking sharp, Flinn. Thanks again for your help last night.”

Flinn smirked behind his beard and shrugged. “Don’t mention it. Wait. Do mention it … when I come to visit this inn of yours. I expect a suite, pal!”

“Me too,” Thora said from her place in the kitchen. She was eating the toast without a plate—all the dishes were still piled in the sink—and was showering the floor with crumbs. Gideon was glad he was moving out soon.

“You didn’t do anything, Thora!” Flinn exclaimed.

She stuck her tongue out at him, then resumed eating her toast.

“I’m not a business expert,” Gideon said, “but I’m pretty sure I should try to make some money before giving out freebies. Though we could use a bartender, Flinn, if you ever get tired of working for Brew Brothers.”

Flinn sighed. “I was tired of working there my first shift, pal. I’d love to be able to brew my own drinks, anyway, rather than serve someone else’s swill. But I don’t think I’m willing to work for free like you are.” He grinned. “Let me know when you can afford to pay wages, and I’ll consider it.”

Gideon nodded. “Fair enough. Hey, don’t you guys have a wedding to get to?”

“As soon as Brynn finishes wiping his ass!” Thora shouted in the direction of the bathroom.

As if that was the cue he had been waiting for, Brynn emerged from the bathroom, one towel wrapped around his beard and another around his midriff, then walked into Flinn’s room and closed the door behind him. “Just a minute!” he called.

“How about you?” Flinn asked Gideon. “You gonna be all right today?”

Gideon smiled. “I’ll be fine. I just needed to sleep on it. Last night I was a little worried, but it was because I was still thinking like I used to. Part of me was still the scared, desperate, and honestly stupid kid who took that loan in the first place. The kid who was so desperate to escape he tied himself down even more. But things are different now. This time I’ve got a card or two to play.”

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Flinn said, raising an eyebrow. “You sure I can’t help you out?”

“You’ve got your aunt’s wedding to go to,” Gideon said, grinning. “Don’t think you can get out of it so easily. Besides, this is something I need to handle myself. I put myself into this situation, and now I’ll get myself out of it. But thank you, Flinn. I do appreciate it. I’m going to pack my stuff while you’re gone. So, Thora, you can crash in there again if you want.”

“Hey, thanks,” she said. “Maybe I’ll have to come see this inn of yours. I might even pay for a room.”

“My Uncle would appreciate that.” He turned to Flinn. “I’ll put my share of the rent on the table when I go. Sorry to leave on such short notice. Again.”

“Nah, I’m glad you’re getting out of here,” Flinn said. “I always knew you couldn’t stay forever. I don’t expect to, either.”

Brynn emerged wearing a suit of his own, though it didn’t fit as well as Flinn’s. Brynn looked around the room, from Thora, to Flinn, to Gideon, and then raised an eyebrow.

“So what are we waiting for?” he asked, and Thora rolled her eyes.

“I’m getting a new communicator today,” Gideon said. “I’ll leave you my number.”

“You’d better,” Flinn said and hugged him tightly.

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Three suitcases.

Ultimately, that was all it took to pack everything he needed or wanted in his new life. He’d packed his books, most of his clothing, and a few mementos. A photo album from when he’d been a child, before his mother had passed. A framed photo of him and Yvette Astorwyn, his oldest friend, standing next to one of the city’s canals. He felt guilty when he thought how long it had been since they’d talked, but pushed it out of his mind as he carefully wrapped the photo in a shirt and placed it in the suitcase.

As he cleaned out the drawer of his nightstand, his fingers closed around one last item. When he drew it out, he couldn’t help but grin.

Simple Wand Manufactured by Sorcerer’s Sanctum, Inc. “That’s no mere mage, that’s a sorcerer!” Grants +1 to Willpower when held by an attuned wielder. Spells with a range of ten spans or less are cast with +2 Brilliance and have 25% bonus accuracy.

Gideon rolled his eyes. Had the manufacturer really modified the wand’s description with a silly slogan?

Holding the slim wooden stick in his hand evoked a sense of nostalgia. He’d bought this wand the same day Yvette had bought one of her own, back when they’d both been teenagers and the future had been full of possibility.

He ran a finger along the now chipped, pale purple focusing crystal. He’d been through some tough years, but the future was full of possibility again. He just had to make sure it would stay that way.

He was about to toss the wand into the closest suitcase, but after a moment’s reflection, he slipped it into the pocket of his robes instead.

You never knew when such a thing would come in handy.

After packing, the rest of the morning’s errands were simple enough—he went to the bank and exchanged his Elvish currency for Acretan crowns. After that, he bought a new communicator—one of the cheaper models, but it would be enough for now.

He returned to the apartment and left his share of the rent in an envelope as promised. After one last look at his now bare room, he closed the door behind him for the last time.

So that was that.

Gideon hauled his luggage to the closest dock, then took a boat back to Prospera Central Station. He rented a locker large enough to fit all of his suitcases. He considered whether to lock up his staff or keep it with him. But considering what Gideon worried he would have to do tonight, the risk of losing it was too great, no matter what Uncle Kelvan had recommended.

He would stick with his trusty old Simple Wand for now.

The next stop on his list of errands was the Elvish Enclave. He wanted to see Berenyn and Shylvena for what might be the last time.

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And he needed to ask Evander Mistwood for a favor.

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“I’m afraid it’s quite bulletproof,” Evander said, passing the sheaf of papers back to Gideon. He unhooked his reading glasses from behind his ears, then set them on his cluttered desk. “That is a standard contract. Boilerplate. You’re locked into the loan.”

Gideon was sitting in Evander’s office again. In truth, he didn’t feel particularly disappointed by what Evander had said. In his heart, he’d known it would never be that simple to escape the debt. Mortimer Rook may have been a crook, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Even though I entered into it under false pretenses? And took out a loan for a school that was revealed to be a scam?” Gideon asked.

Evander nodded sadly. “I’m afraid most of the legal protections in these situations are on the side of the lender, not the borrower. You would need to prove that this Mortimer Rook fellow was directly involved in the prep school that took your money, which would be difficult unless you have some evidence.”

“I wish,” Gideon said. “I tried going to the school again last year after I realized I’d been taken. But the place had already closed down. So, no, no evidence. It’s just a feeling I have.”

“Then, as far as the legal system is concerned, Mortimer Rook loaned you the money fair and square, and you have a legal obligation to pay him back. Even at such exorbitant interest rates as these. I’m sorry, Gideon.”

Gideon shook his head. “No need to apologize. I appreciate you taking a look. Before I did this the hard way, I thought I should check to make sure there wasn’t an easy way.”

Evander raised an eyebrow. “Do I want to know what the hard way is?”

Gideon stood up and smiled at him. “Honestly? Probably not, Mr. Mistwood.”

The elf sighed. “Well, if you end up in legal peril, you know who to call.”

When Gideon had arrived, he’d exchanged his contact info with Evander using his new communicator so he could call him without needing to visit in person next time.

“I’m hoping that won’t be necessary,” Gideon said.

“My clients never do,” Evander replied with a grin. “It’s how I stay in business.”

After taking his leave, Gideon walked to the Enclave’s temporary housing, where Berenyn and Shylvena were staying. A cluster of large wooden cabins was built around the outer edge of the Enclave, facing inward towards the tree. Evander had directed him to unit 4, which Gideon found after a short walk. A cool breeze blew in the shade of the tree, a relief from the summer heat.

He knocked, and Shylvena answered the door. She gave him a warm smile and greeted him in Dwarvish. She then called over her shoulder in Elvish, and Berenyn soon appeared.

Both of them looked well, their skin almost glowing with light.

“So,” Gideon said. “How is it?”

“It’s great,” Shylvena said, while Berenyn shrugged. There was an exchange between the siblings in Elvish.

“It’s no castle,” Berenyn said in Gleurican Common. “That’s all I mean.”

Gideon smiled. “Well, you two are welcome there whenever you want, okay? If you ever get tired of the city. Or the people in it.” He repeated it in both Common and Dwarvish.

“Thank you,” they both said.

“You want to get some lunch?” Gideon asked.

Shylvena nodded and began to put on her boots at once.

“Something other than salad this time?” Berenyn offered.

“Please,” Gideon said.

They walked to another Elvish restaurant in the Enclave, but this one offered a wider variety of fare. Gideon enjoyed a turkey and cheese sandwich, Berenyn ate some Elvish pasta that Gideon didn’t recognize, and Shylvena had a salad and tomato soup.

The elves talked of Prospera and their plans for the future. Gideon didn’t tell them what he intended to do next. He didn’t want them to worry about him or try to get involved themselves.

Instead, he told them he planned to return to the castle tomorrow and might not see them again for a long time, which wasn’t a lie, even if it wasn’t the complete truth.

Shylvena looked worried, as if she could sense something was wrong. But when they parted, she gave him the hand sign for peace and told him to take care of himself. Berenyn grabbed Gideon by the shoulders and hugged him, thanking him again for everything he had done.

“Don’t mention it,” Gideon said.

If I don’t see you again, he thought, it was fun.

And then it was time for his last errand.

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Mortimer Rook’s offices were located in a squat building in the nice part of town, not so far from city hall. Not so far from Falconridge Academy, either, now that Gideon thought about it. He’d been coming here every month for the past year, making every payment on time, every time.

One way or the other, he wasn’t coming back after today.

Rook’s office was on the second floor. Gideon walked through the building’s lobby and casually climbed the stairs, as he had done so many times previously. The building was newly renovated, with bright white lights in the ceiling and a glossy marble tile floor.

Once upstairs, Gideon walked down the hall until he spotted Mortimer’s name emblazoned on a pane of frosted glass next to a set of wooden double doors. Underneath the name, the words, “Prosperity For All!” were written in gold letters.

Oh, the irony, he thought. Gideon knocked, then took a step back.

“Come in,” Mortimer’s goon Finch called out.

Gideon opened the door and peeked his head in, looking into the small waiting room. It was furnished with a couple of chairs and a small desk where Finch was sitting. On the other side of the waiting room, the door to Rook’s office was halfway open.

“Hey, Finch. I’m looking for Mr. Rook. I’ve got his payment ahead of schedule.” Though part of Gideon wanted to mimic his usual sheepish style and act the same as the last time he’d come here, things were different now. He straightened his back, walked in, and closed the door behind him with a firm click.

Rook’s voice called out from his office. “Mr. Moody! I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Come in.”

Gideon strode forward and pushed open the door to Mortimer’s office. The office was small but well-furnished. Unlike Evander Mistwood’s, it was entirely clean. It looked like an office in a furniture ad, now that Gideon thought about it, just another piece of the man’s fake exterior.

With a nod to Mortimer, Gideon pulled the money out of his pocket and set it on the desk. “Another month’s payment, as promised,” Gideon said.

Gideon had been thinking about it last night. If he got the inn up and running soon, he wouldn’t have any problems making future payments. It would take him another five years to pay off the loan, but it was doable.

But the thought of it had made him angry. Why should he toil for someone else? He’d paid off the loan’s principal. The rest of it was interest.

Perhaps Uncle Kelvan had gotten to him after all, with all that talk of Prospera stomping on him. The truth was, he was tired of being stomped on. It was time to do a little stomping of his own.

As he always did, Mortimer began to count the money. While he did so, Gideon sat across the desk from him.

“You know, I was thinking more about what you said last night, Mr. Rook,” Gideon said. “I fear I may have been a little hasty.”

Mortimer raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” he said. Gideon could see he was trying to act nonchalant, but Rook couldn’t hide the greed in his face.

“I realized something. My father used to say it was foolish to reject an offer without hearing it out.”

Rook leaned back in his chair, suddenly losing all interest in counting the money. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Gideon said. “You see, I thought to myself, why would you take such an interest in me? It didn’t make sense. Not at first.”

Mortimer shrugged. “I take an interest in all my clients, Gideon. An interest in them and their ability, or lack thereof, to pay their debts.”

“I thought to myself, why would you want to hire me in particular, though?”

Mortimer shook his head. “Get over yourself, kid. I was merely trying to help you out since I feared you were in a bad way.”

“Of course, you’re a very charitable man. I’m sure you help all of your clients in such a manner,” Gideon said neutrally. “But there’s also another explanation. An explanation I couldn’t get out of my head once I thought of it.”

“Don’t leave me in suspense,” Mortimer said.

“Perhaps you wanted me for one job in particular. A job that only I, a low-level geomancer, no one special, could help you with.” Gideon leaned in, lowering his voice, trying to pretend he was worried about what he was about to say. “And the more I thought about it, the more I realized something obvious. There was only one job it could have possibly been.” Gideon paused for a moment, knowing he was right but also realizing that once he said it, there would be no going back. His plan, for better or worse, would be set in motion. “You wanted to rob the EnviroCharm Company.”

Mortimer Rook said nothing for a long moment, staring at Gideon. But then his mouth broke into a crooked smile. “Well, Gideon, look at you,” he said. “You’re a sharp kid. But even if I wanted to do what you suggest, I thought you had a new employer now.”

“I do,” Gideon admitted. “But the truth is, they’re not paying me yet. Not in money, at least. My advancement is the only compensation I’ve received.” The best part of his story, Gideon thought, was that it was the truth.

“Ah,” Mortimer said. “So you do need cash, after all.”

“One job,” Gideon said, raising his finger. “I help you with this, and my debt is cleared. I know you’re not interested in stealing gardening tools, no matter how well enchanted. But EnviroCharm deals in other artifacts, too. That’s why you were trying to find me, wasn’t it? There’s something in particular you want.”

“Looks like you’ve got this all figured out. I’m not saying anything, you understand. But if I did want to do what you suggest, would you know a way in?”

Gideon smiled. He didn’t even need to fake his confidence. He knew every inch of that building. “I know all the ways in,” he said. “But there’s one other thing. I’m not long for Prospera. If we’re going to do this, I want to do it tonight.”

For the first time, when Mortimer smiled, it looked genuine. He reached across his desk with one long, pale, waxy hand. “I was going to suggest that already. Time is of the essence.”

Gideon took a deep breath, reached out, and shook Mortimer’s hand. You must think I’m a fool, Gideon thought. It’s time to prove you wrong.

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