Gideon wandered the west wing of the castle, carrying a lantern in one hand and an apple pie in the other. He didn’t know if rats liked apple pies or apples generally, but he hadn’t known what else to bring. He’d looked for a cheese wheel, but the only one he found was half-eaten. He didn’t know if rats cared about such things, but he wasn’t going to risk offending them.

He’d considered the message from “R.” for a while, wondering what that letter stood for and whether the invitation could be trusted. But if the message on the back of the invitation was correct—and he had no reason to doubt that particular statement—it wouldn’t be long until Lady Ondine Ashewood found him venturing into the forbidden areas of the castle.

If Ondine could detect his movements, which he suspected she could, roaming so far from his bedroom would have to attract her attention eventually.

He’d tried knocking on the door to her lab, but she hadn’t answered. Instead, he’d decided to look for the stairs down to the undercroft himself. He knew most castles had such a place, used for storage and to allow the passage of servants out of sight from the nobility.

The castle was quiet at night, and every step he took seemed to echo down the corridor. The hallways were dark other than the dim glow of his lantern. Unlike the great hall and the east wing, none of the lamps and chandeliers here were magically illuminated.

He kept his eyes on his feet as he walked, looking for the promised trail of crumbs that would lead him to his meeting.

He reached a dead end. An oil painting of a young man with Kelvan’s red eyes but narrower features stared down at him. One of his Uncle’s ancestors, perhaps? The man sat in a gaudy red chair, holding a glowing skull in his lap.

Perhaps Uncle Kelvan had put his least favorite art in this section of the castle.

Gideon turned around and decided to start opening every door he passed, beginning with the closest. But when he touched the knob, he felt a chill wind.

“Good evening, Gideon,” Ondine said, floating near the ceiling.

“Hello, Ondine,” Gideon replied, looking up at her. “I was hoping you’d show up.”

She gazed down at the pie in his hand and raised an eyebrow. “It’s awfully late for a snack. Are you all right? Besides, if you wanted food, you should have summoned Grimsby.”

“Thank you, but I’m perfectly fine.” He set down his lantern and awkwardly moved the pie to his other hand, then pulled the Moon-Touched Support Group invitation from his pocket. After a moment’s hesitation, he handed it to Ondine.

Her eyes widened as she read it.

“Are you sure you want to go down there?” she asked. “It’s terribly dusty. Not to mention filled with rats.”

Gideon smiled. “That’s the idea. Will you tell me about them? Or are you still busy?”

Ondine looked taken aback, but then her head fell, and she sighed. A cascade of ghostly hair, tendrils of wispy light, flowed from her shoulders.

“I only hope…” she began before her voice trailed off. Silence reigned in the hall, and Gideon wondered if she would say anything else. When she finally did, her voice was so quiet he strained to hear. “I only hope you will not judge me too harshly, Gideon. Or at least, allow me the opportunity to talk to you before you leave.”

“Before I leave?” Gideon asked, unsure what she meant.

“After you meet them, I know you will not wish to stay here. Not with someone like me around.”

Gideon, taken aback, said nothing for a long moment. “Is it really so bad you think I’ll be gone just like that?”

“I don’t know anymore,” she said. “All I know is I would do things differently if I could.”

He nodded, considering her words. “Have you told them that?”

“They don’t wish to speak with me. Besides, the damage has been done. Any apology would be quite meaningless now.” She smiled at him. “But it is kind of you to think it might.”

“They’re not dangerous, are they?” Gideon asked.

“They shouldn’t be. Not to you. And the one who wrote this message isn’t to anyone. He abhors violence.”

“He?” Gideon asked.

“My greatest experiment. Or my worst, depending on who you ask.”

She turned and floated down the hallway, beckoning Gideon to follow before passing through one of the doors as if it didn’t exist. When Gideon tugged on the handle, he found it was stuck, as if the door had not been opened in quite some time. But after carefully setting down his things and heaving with all his might, it gave way and suddenly flew open, slamming into the stone wall with a crash.

After fetching his lantern and pie, a darkened storage room lay before him. The shelves were bare other than dust and cobwebs. But in the center of the floor, a small hole led to a flight of wooden stairs.

When Gideon looked down, he saw the beginning of the trail of crumbs, as promised.

“Are you going to follow me?” he asked.

“Despite what he said in that note, no. Not unless you wish me to,” Ondine replied. “But if you scream for help, it won’t take me long to find you. You won’t need the lantern, by the way. If you bring it, you’ll only hurt their eyes.” She glanced to his staff, securely in its case and slung over his shoulder. “You shouldn’t need that either, but it’s a good idea to bring it along.”

He approached the staircase and extinguished his lantern. After his eyes adjusted, he saw a purple glow emanating from beneath. The trail of crumbs continued off into the dark. Gideon swallowed and began his descent.

“Thank you,” he said, but when he glanced behind him, he saw Ondine had already flown away.

He took each step carefully, balancing the pie in his hands. When he reached the bottom, he saw the source of the purple light. As he’d suspected, tiny, glowing pieces of the Moonstone were hanging from the ceiling. Thankfully, as he examined them, he realized they didn’t appear connected to the main crystal.

He almost considered using his [Geosense] to check them but decided against it. The last thing he needed was to have a vision right now.

The undercroft seemed to extend outward in multiple directions as if the stairs had led him to a main junction. The ceiling was too low to stand straight, and he had to hunch as he walked, following the trail of crumbs to the left.

He heard a sound off to his right, the scrabbling of paws echoing in the enclosed space. Then chattering from behind him. Ignoring the sounds and trying to suppress his nervousness, he followed the trail. It led him on a winding path, his shoes crunching in the thin layer of dirt that covered the floor.

Before he knew it, Gideon emerged from a thin passageway into a larger, open chamber. As he looked around, it took a moment before he could process what he saw.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The area resembled a city square in miniature. Stacks of small buildings made from wood and cardboard lined every wall. They were covered in more Moonstone lighting and small rat-sized holes. They might have been passages or windows, he wasn’t sure which.

In more than a few of those holes, Gideon saw red eyes watching him. His arrival had attracted some attention. In the center of the room was a small statue of a rat, pointing forward with one paw.

“Wow,” Gideon said, despite himself. Whatever he had expected to find here, this was not it.

As he looked down at his feet, Gideon saw the trail of crumbs ended here.

“Ah, hello,” a man’s voice said in his mind. “You made it.”

For a moment, Gideon panicked, for it reminded him of the Silkspinner broodmother and how her thoughts had invaded his own. But this voice didn’t sound hostile. Quite the opposite. He felt strangely calm.

“Down here.”

Gideon turned back and forth before he spotted a giant rat by his right side, peering up at him inquisitively.

The rat’s head was bulbous, and his coat was gray but bald in spots. He stood upright but leaned forward on what appeared at first glance to be a gnarled walking stick. Looking closer, Gideon noticed a tiny glittering crystal attached to the end of the rod.

Gideon’s mouth fell open. That wasn’t a walking stick. It was a staff.

“Greetings,” Gideon said, once he forced his tongue to move. Gideon couldn’t resist using [Appraise] on the rat’s staff. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

Sprig of the Philosopher King Grants +3 to Brilliance and +3 to Willpower when held by an attuned wielder. Spells without hostile intent cost 25% less mana, and are cast as if the wielder had one additional skill rank. Hostile spells cost double mana, and are cast as if the wielder had one less skill rank.

As Gideon skimmed over the description, he sucked in his breath as an additional notification appeared.

Skill Grade Increase! Your proficiency in Appraise has increased to Stone Rank, Grade B.

Gideon dismissed the notification as soon as it appeared, but the rat chuckled as if he’d noticed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” he said. “Walk with me, if you would. Our group meets on the other side of town, and I confess that my legs are not what they once were. It might take us a while.”

“Uh, sure,” Gideon replied, not knowing what else to say. Based on the staff’s description, he was reminded of Ondine’s words—He abhors violence. He watched as the rat slowly walked towards the other side of the chamber. Gideon took one step at a time, taking care not to outpace him.

“You find yourself quite speechless,” the rat said. “I supposed you might.”

Gideon saw movement in one of the nearby ratholes. A pair of red eyes flashed, then suddenly disappeared. A moment later, a bell rang from somewhere inside one of the walls, and sounds of movement came from every direction.

Soon, rats were strolling across the square, squeaking and chattering to each other. Percussive music began to emanate from one of the windows. A group of rats dragged tiny wooden tables and chairs out of one of the holes and arranged them in front of the building, like the seating you might find outside a cafe.

Had they been frightened of him and in hiding? He could not blame them if so.

Now, their city was returning to life.

He was so distracted he hit his head on a ceiling beam, wincing as pain shot through his head. Then he hunched over more carefully.

“And so, life returns to Paradise,” the rat said. “That’s what we call it. Paradise.”

“I didn’t realize there was all this down here.”

“Miss Ashewood is most likely the only one who knows, and she wouldn’t tell anyone else. Your dear lord’s spiritual connection to his domain, especially to the far reaches of it such as this one, is quite frayed in comparison. We are outside his gaze.”

“Spiritual connection?” Gideon asked. “I take it you’re not speaking, uh, figuratively?”

“Hmm,” the rat said, then stopped and rested on his staff. “You’re not a necromancer?”

“No,” Gideon said. “Not yet, at least. Should I be?”

The rat reached up with one paw and stroked his chin. “I had mistakenly assumed you were following in the Kastorus family’s footsteps. You intrigue me, but I realize I have been rude. My name is Rathe.”

A rat named Rathe, Gideon thought to himself. Where did that come from?

Rathe bowed his head, dipping forward until it looked like he might fall. But just as Gideon was about to reach out and try to catch him, he raised himself back up, red eyes glinting in amusement.

Gideon returned the bow as gracefully as he could in the confined space. “I’m Gideon. And I’m not really a Kastorus, you know. I never even knew about my uncle until recently.”

“Hmm, I suppose that explains it,” Rathe said. “Anyway, you can go ahead and ask me if you want.”

“Go ahead?” Gideon said, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re wondering how I got my name.” Rathe continued walking, and Gideon slowly followed.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” Gideon said. “It seemed rude. But yes, I suppose I was curious.”

“Miss Ashewood was the one who named me, back when I was a pup. I suppose she found it amusing. But it means quick, prompt, eager. Like a flower that blooms early. Or a fruit that ripens too soon.”

Gideon searched for something to say but found himself at a loss. There were a million questions he wanted to ask, but he found they had become entangled in his mind.

They reached the edge of the chamber. The walls narrowed to a thin hallway, and the rat-sized buildings lined both walls as far as he could see.

A rat scurried out of the darkness, running towards them, squeaking plaintively. Strangely, the squeaks transformed into another voice in his mind.

“Master,” the voice of a young woman said. “Let me help you.” The new rat stared at Gideon, and he wondered if he was the first human she had ever seen. She had a black coat, shining in the Moonstone light, and black eyes that bored into him. She turned back to Rathe and reached out to him, supporting him in place of his staff. “I would have fetched upstairs boy for you if you had asked me.”

Upstairs boy?

“I wished to take the measure of him myself, Juniper,” Rathe said.

“Measure him? I could have told you, Pa. He’s damned well huge! He takes one wrong step, and I’ll need to call a construction crew.”

Gideon tried not to laugh as Rathe shook his head. He patted Juniper’s shoulder with his hand, then subtly shifted away from her, supporting himself.

Juniper stood as tall as she could, barely up to Gideon’s shin, and stuck out her paw. “I’m Juniper, second greatest wizard in Paradise,” she said. “Don’t forget it, okay?”

“I doubt I could,” Gideon said, carefully reaching down and grasping her paw gently. He gave it a tiny shake, then let go. “You know magic, too?”

Gideon glanced at Rathe’s staff again. Though small, it looked every bit as functional as Gideon’s own.

Juniper, however, carried no such implement. Her nose twitched. “I sure do. Pa taught me everything I know and then some. Come on, you’ll be late for the meeting.” She turned and began to run down the hallway. Though to her and Rathe, it was more like a street, he thought. “I hope Silvari brings her axe tonight,” she muttered as she scampered away.

Gideon and Rathe walked in silence, following in Juniper’s footsteps. “I’m glad you’ve come,” Rathe said after a while. “I have a confession. I asked some friends to keep an eye on you since you first arrived at the castle. To feel you out. The truth is, I asked you here because I need, we need, your help.”

“Oh?” Gideon asked.

“I thought I owed you some honesty. I did not wish to ambush you with my plea later,” Rathe said, then stopped. They had reached a junction in the street which led to another chamber on their right. This one was a bit larger than the others, and Gideon could not see the other side of it. It contained a circle of small chairs, lit by more Moonstone fragments hanging from the ceiling.

Juniper stood in a circle of rats off to one side, squeaking excitedly. In Gideon’s mind, their voices swirled together, a jumble of words and emotions.

Gideon looked down at Rathe, and the old rat scratched his chin. “May we speak more later? It’s almost time for the meeting to start.”

As they entered the chamber, Gideon watched another form emerge from the shadows on the other side of the circle. Much larger than a rat. Larger than Gideon himself, even. A hulking figure with more muscle in each of her arms than Gideon possessed in his entire body.

“Silvari!” Juniper shouted happily. “You made it.”

Gideon couldn’t help but stare at the newest arrival. Despite Silvari’s smoldering purple eyes and unusually pale skin for her species, she was clearly an orc. He had never met one in person, but here she stood, as surely as if she had stepped out of the illustrated books his mother had once read to him as a child.

He was meeting a real orc. One who was staring at him, head tilted, with rage in her eyes. “Who the hell are you?” she asked, growling. “And why are you here?” Though she needed to hunch over in the confined space of the undercroft as he did, she would have stood head and shoulders above him outside.

Gideon stared at the orc as a fearful cacophony of squeaks erupted from the rats. She stepped forward, her hands curled into fists at her sides as if itching for a brawl. Rathe tried to speak but couldn’t be heard over the din. Gideon thought of reaching for his staff, but hesitated when he realized his hands were still full. After a moment of hesitation, he held out his peace offering.

“I brought pie,” he said. “If you’d like some?”