Tempers flared between the two, a sword thrust between them halting the escalation.

“If the results don’t meet your expectations, be more precise with your orders next time,” Becket interjected, defusing the situation.

Stick tried to swallow his anger. He stared down the smiling Reacher. How can they be like this?

Reacher, on the other hand, was delighted with the outcome. He strolled to his horse, retrieved rope from his saddlebags, and tossed it in front of the miners.

“You know what to do,” he instructed.

Struggling to calm himself, Stick glanced at the rope on the ground, a reminder of his first day. He then turned his gaze to Titor, whose face was unrecognisable with blood. His eyes darted around the shanty town as though searching for an explanation for the witnessed violence, or perhaps trying to avert his gaze from the violence his plan had caused. Something I caused.

His eyes met Cadmun’s. Ensuring he had Stick’s attention, Cadmun discreetly flashed two hand signals. His right little finger pointed to Stick’s hidden stash of meat, while his left thumb indicated the fireplace in the slave camp. Stick blinked to confirm. The plan’s still on. Thank you, Titor!

Reacher, having cleaned his armour and mace of blood, called out to Becket. “I’m off then.”

“Make it quick,” Becket replied. “I need you back at the mansion ASAP for the food delivery. And ease up with the weapon this time. We can’t afford more workforce losses.”

Comfortably in his saddle, Reacher smiled. “See ya in a bit.”

The horse set off eastwards, dragging Titor’s body behind. Without Protection from the God of Life, his skin scraped against the ground, leaving a blood trail.

“Stop staring, we need to move,” Becket said.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

The horse trotted on without waiting for Stick’s response. Stick jogged to keep pace with the last row of shanties. Fortunately, Becket, too agitated, failed to notice the shanties had been worked on. Like Stick, he stared eastwards until Reacher’s horse, its rider, and the slave tied behind it disappeared behind a hill.

“Not much longer and you’ll be a city guard,” Becket murmured. “Tomorrow he’ll be out of your hair.”

They had managed to separate the knights, progressing to the plan’s second phase. The hope of a successful escape reminded them of the Players’ danger. Now I need a way to get Becket back to camp. Or should I wait for Reacher to bring the food delivery? I hoped we’d eliminate his healing powers first. But there might be many like Stamos at the Initiation. It might be the best chance for the Lords’ escape without me. They won’t need my Inventory then. How long will the Initiation take? How long can I stall to keep him isolated? On the other hand: who knows when Reacher will be back from the Slaughterhouse? What if the Initiation ends too quickly and we lose our advantage? We can’t face more than one at a time. Damn it. What will it be? Becket now or Reacher later? If only I had more information. This Initiation’s thrown us off.

Ascending the hill, Stick felt the clock ticking. He weighed both options, knowing a decision was needed before reaching the mansion at the hill’s summit. After tossing around “ifs” and “whens,” he concluded any Initiation-related scenario had too many unknowns. What he knew was Reacher was away, most Players awaited him for his Initiation, and Becket was right in front. They reached the tree stumps, Varyan’s childhood hideout beneath the mansion, when he decided to act. This is the only way!

image [https://i.imgur.com/BN2kC8l.jpeg]

“So, um…” Stick gulped, crafting a convincing lie. “How important is the Letter?”

Becket halted his horse abruptly, his eyes disturbed.

“What did you just say?”

“I, uh…,” Stick stammered. “I was just wondering about the Letter of Initiation’s importance for, you know… the Initiation.”

“Are you serious?” Becket moved closer. “How will the game flag you as a Carnifex member without the item?”

“I don’t-” Stick fumbled for an answer.

Becket wasn’t having it. “Where’s the Letter, Stick?”

“I don’t know.”

“Stop playing games!” Becket shouted. “Open your inventory!”

What’s with them today? Why are they so aggressive?

Stick struggled to stay calm. “I think I left it at camp.”

“You won’t ruin this for me! Not now!” Becket brandished his sword at Stick’s neck. “Open your goddamn Inventory right now!”

Stick’s mind raced for an escape, but then he noticed movement by the building. Figures emerged from the pantry, descending swiftly. A shiver ran through him as he realised it was the servants. Shit, why now?

To his horror, Becket’s gaze followed his, spotting them too.