Roth read the story again, looking for clues. The only thing that caught his eye was the description of the kingdom of the north, which specified that it had ‘snow-capped mountains’ and was ‘known for its fine ore, lumber, and precious stones.’

It so happened that Erynd ‘wore a ring on his finger with a beautiful ruby, the likes of which not even the queen owned.’ Wasn’t that suspicious? The providence of that ruby could have been the mines of Breescar. Did that mark Erynd as an agent from the north?

The same reasoning could be applied to Faelan, who owned the ‘Bulwark, a beautiful cedar shield made of wood so hard that not even metal could pierce it.’ Since the kingdom of the north was famous for its fine lumber, could that also have been the origin of this shield?

Finally, there was Arin, who ‘was always hot and sweating and carried a handkerchief to wipe his brow.’ Why did the story mention that this minister was always hot? Maybe he had come from the cold climate of the north and never gotten used to the hot weather of the desert.

Dareth was also painted suspiciously, but it could just be a trap. Roth’s best guesses were that the moles were Arin, Erynd, and Faelan, while the faithful ministers were Belin, Cael, Dareth, and Galen. But just how could he be sure he was right?

Shrugging, he decided it was time to use his secret weapon. He opened his friend’s list, filtered it so only guild members were included, and called one of the first names on the list.

The general of the Ogres appeared on the other side. He was in a cave, and his camera moved rapidly. He had answered his call in the middle of a battle. “Hello, Roth,” greeted BlueFire.

“Hi there, BlueFire! How are things going with the guild?”

“The Core has a lot of potential. It’s keeping us quite busy down here. Careful medics! Wait for my command!”

“I have to say I feel a little disappointed that you’re not paying me your full attention. That’s a little rude.”

“Care to tell me why you sent me all those messages asking me to be available now?” BlueFire asked without responding to Roth’s jab.

“I’m on a quest right now and need your brains.”

“Uh? My brains? Does the great Roth Taylor need my help? What could someone like me possibly know that the great Roth doesn’t?”

Roth shook his head. He couldn't blame BlueFire for rubbing it in. He usually had the upper hand in their conversations, but not this time. What people said about reaping what they sowed was true. Something told him that BlueFire was about to give him a hard time. “I sent you a screenshot with a story. I need to identify who in the story belongs to the Northern Kingdom and who doesn’t. Can you help me?”

“Oh? Interesting.” BlueFire read the story in an undertone while issuing the occasional commands to his party members.

“So…” Roth prompted as he watched the clock ticking down.

“Alright… the characters in this story who belong to the kingdom of the north are the old king of Breescar, the new king, Belin, Dareth, and Faelan. In the other faction, we have the rest of the ministers and the queen of the south.”

Roth blinked a few times. Many questions flashed through his mind. BlueFire's answer was completely different from his guesses. What about Erynd’s ring? And what about Arin, who was always hot? Furthermore, did he have to add the monarchs to the list in the story?

Thoughts racing, Roth glanced over at BlueFire, who had solved this puzzle half-heartedly while multitasking. He and BlueFire had had their differences in the past. If the old fox wanted revenge, this was his perfect chance. What if he spouted a random answer to ruin Roth’s quest?

Roth sighed but didn’t say anything as he wrote everything BlueFire said in the answer boxes.

BlueFire studied Roth with a knowing smile. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

Roth shrugged. “You're doing me a favor. I trust your judgment. You're an intelligent man, one of the most intelligent I've met. If you say this is the answer, who am I to say otherwise?”

BlueFire nodded, pleased with Roth’s flattery. “I appreciate your vote of confidence. However, it's not good for you to take the easy way out, Roth. I admire how you can promptly admit your shortcomings. It comes from your history as a merc leader. But if this puzzle trips you up, you should try to understand the solution and work on your weaknesses as a gamer.”

Roth bit his lip. The general of the Ogres was really relishing having the higher ground. He could see the wisdom in his words, though. “Fine. I have no idea how you arrived at that conclusion. Care to explain?”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

BlueFire cleared his throat and explained things slowly, like a tutor mentoring a child:

“Forget about all the bells and whistles. The ruby ring, the wooden shield, the cloaked minister, or the one who's always hot—those were included to mislead the reader.”

“If I ignore those clues, I don’t have much left to work with,” Roth protested.

“You have enough. The key to finding the spies is knowing how many of them there are.”

“Yes, three.”

“Conversely, that means that four of the seven ministers are loyal to the queen. The riddle states that loyalists only speak the truth. The spies, however, won’t necessarily tell the truth. They might lie to divert attention or even tell the truth to deflect suspicion. Yes?”

“I’m with you so far.”

BlueFire cleared his throat and explained, “Let’s start with Dareth, who is accused of being a mole by both Cael and Galen. If Dareth is a spy, then both Cael and Galen could either be loyal, or they could be spies lying about him. We don’t know yet. So, let’s check other clues. If Dareth is loyal, then both Cael and Galen, who accuse him, would have to be spies because loyalists can’t lie. So, in this case, the spies would be Cael, Galen, and a third one we need to identify.”

This was when the words coming out of BlueFire's mouth became a meaningless droning sound to Roth. He couldn't keep up with the speed at which BlueFire worked through the logic of the riddle.

“... leaving no room for doubt. After you cross-check all possibilities there's only one possible solution. The moles are Belin, Dareth and Faelan."

“So Arin being sweaty all the time and Erynd’s ring were red herrings,” Roth said.

“Yes. But the cedar shield and Dareth’s shadiness weren’t. It’s a trap within a trap. Finally, the second trap in the story is to get you so caught up in figuring out who the spies among the ministers are that you end up forgetting about the kings and the queen, characters within the story.”

Roth was blown away. He had always known that BlueFire was a capable man, but this display of intelligence was downright scary. He didn’t know how to feel about their history. That he had managed to lead BlueFire by the nose several times meant Roth was also really smart or lucky. However, this story and lecture had already tired him enough, so instead of trying to figure out which, he decided to settle with being happy that they were now on the same side.

“Thanks, BlueFire. I couldn't have done this without you.”

“See you around.”

And he was gone. Roth double-checked that the answers he had written down matched what BlueFire said.

Are you sure you want to lock in the answers? [Y/N]

Roth confirmed.

Congratulations! You’ve obtained a perfect score.

All others have turned in their answers. You scored the most points.

Congratulations! You’ve won the undercover mole competition!

You win 10,000 gold;

You can manage the molian trade agreements for a month;

+100 reputation with all molians;

+5 permanent intelligence (You can only gain this bonus once);

+50 ep (You can only gain this bonus once).

Roth wiped his brow and sighed in relief. He had won. He had overthrown Eron. The only surprise in these rewards was that he hadn’t broken a record. Probably, Eron had done that already. It was sad that he couldn’t get a free level as a result, but Roth decided to settle with having won the game.

Roth had bittersweet feelings about his win. He now had the power to overturn Eron’s deal with the moles and steal his business. On the other hand, this was the only event in the Molympic Games that he hadn't won on his own merit.

Or did he? Now that he thought about it, wasn't his guild part of his strength? The decision to join the Ogres hadn’t been easy. He had put in a lot of effort to draw their attention and get them to protect him and his family. What if he had asked for help from BlueFire? Hadn't Eron asked for Zin’s help clearing the first two games? The realization soothed Roth’s guilt, and he set his eyes on the very last competition, the cockroach races.

*

“Hi, Zin.”

Zin sighed. He didn’t even have to ask how Eron had done in the undercover mole competition. The broker’s sad tone of voice was enough. “It’s OK, Eron. We still have the last competition.”

“Right, right. I’ll go get my roaches ready.”

“I’ll be on the other side. Just make sure you mark them clearly, as we’ve discussed.”

“Sure.”

The broker disconnected the call.

Despite sounding confident in his conversation with Eron, Zin was worried. He had been everywhere in the game, and, as far as he knew, an event like the Molympic Games was unique in all of AstroTerra. The reward for winning all four games for the first time had to be spectacular. He dared not underestimate the rewards the moles could hand out based on their level. Despite being level 63, Zin could barely keep up with the cursed diggers in their stupid, rigged games. The difficulty was a prelude to generous rewards.

Additionally, according to Eron, despite being far from his highest-leveled suppliers, they ranked among the most profitable. All the ore and gemstones they dug up in the mines sold well in human cities.

Roth wouldn’t win all four games. Zin would make sure of it.

For once, the entrance of the Charlesville mines was filled with adventurers and fighters rather than minors. The monthly regional event drew players between levels 20 and 30 from the nearby cities of Green Country and Rock Canyon.

Zin wormed through the crowd and approached an NPC wearing an exterminator suit and holding a pad on which he was noting down the names of participants. “Hey! You! Sign me up.”

“A-are you sure you want to participate in the Bug Extermination Event, sir?” the NPC in an exterminator suit asked.

“Why? Can’t I?” Zin hadn’t read anything about a level limit in the forums.

“It’s just that… Well… someone of your status and experience…”

“Is it against the rules?” Zin pressed.

“No, sir. It isn’t.”

“Then, sign me up. I want to kill some bugs.”

You’ve joined the regional event [Charlesville’s Cockroach Extermination].

Once a month, an inexplicable swarm of giant cockroaches springs from the dark depths of the Charlesville mines. Help the town get rid of the disgusting bugs. All participants can exchange points for rewards from the city’s mayor. The one who kills the most cockroaches will win a special prize!

Zin drew his daggers and disappeared into the shadowy mines. It was time to kill every cockroach in the games except for Eron’s.