The casual conversations had by the Super and Ultra Rares those days tended to turn toward two subjects: Halloween, and how the table legs seemed less saggy than usual. “All this Vigilant Patrolling must be doing them good. I think I'll take it up myself,” Solemn Declaration declared solemnly.

The efforts and vigor of the Rares did not go unrewarded. They were given even longer shifts of Common-sorting and gear-carrying, except for Stan, who often could not be found, and Evening Best, who never could. It was later than usual that they were able to return to their lounge, only to find a non-Rare had arrived earlier.

Light brown hair slightly past the shoulders! A short purple skirt that left a little skin between its bottom and her hose! Gloves! Who else could it be but Quircy Rau, pacing up and down the hall and mumbling to herself?

The Rares fell into indecision themselves, save for one hero among them. “Why Quircy, whatever are you doing here, of all places? There must be a party for you to attend, that way, or was it that way? I wouldn't know, I'm afraid, since I'm just so busy all the time, so pleeeease forgive me, won't you?”

Quircy moved through perplexity to surprise to nervousness to umbrage to boredom during the course of Sindze U. Radalo's speech, settling into haughtiness by the end. “Listen up, Rares! I'm the head night custodian for the next fortnight, which is two weeks to you! I can't have anyone running around at night getting up to zany schemes, and you guys are starting to look a little zany to me. What's with all this Vigilant Patrol business? And you cannot tell me carting some party junk around takes that long!”

The Rares gulped as one, but Quircy barreled on ahead. “Well, don't think you can get anything past me. I've never run a ship before, but if I did, it would be tight. Now get inside your closet where it won't bother anyone else when I lecture you some more.” She opened the door and pointed while looking up and down the hall for other officers who may have been bothered by the tumult, and the downcast Rares filed in.

Quircy backed in after them, checked the halls again, and shut the door. Then she turned and hopped into the middle of the room.

“Watch out for the drip.”

“Eek!” Quircy stepped a bit to the side and checked her hair for wetness. Satisfied, she resumed. “All right guys, who's up for a zany scheme? Here's the deal. Like I said, it's my turn to be the night watchman, and I want to leave a legacy. Keeping the hallways quiet isn't enough for Quircy Rau! So I thought I'd redecorate while everyone was in the lounges, and then I thought I'd need help, and then I thought of you guys.”

“A reasonable chain of thought,” Saptres Muria said. “What sort of decorations?”

“As to that . . .” Quircy leaned back a bit, crossed her left arm over her right elbow, started spinning a keyring on her right pointer finger, and tilted her head to look up at no one in particular. “Summer's well and truly over now that Moon Lynie is here, so I was thinking of giving the place more of an autumn look. Orange and green plastic leaves, cornucopias, vines . . . pumpkins . . . grave markers . . .” By the end the Rares could barely hear her, but they all got the message.

“Of course,” Saptres said as if he would never have anything more to say about it. At least he was smiling.

“Say we help you,” Dennet began.

“We help you.”

“How many of you said that? You're all going on a list, the bad kind, but anyway, if we help you, what do we get out of it? Not a Halloween alt, that's for sure.”

“Nothing. What do you think this is? Some kind of underhanded deal? You either want a nicely decorated home base or you don't. But you know. I do have the keys. If you help me with my job, I'd have to unlock rooms for you. I would make sure all the good gear and genii were accounted for of course, but I don't think we've ever taken inventory of all the Rare genii. Certainly not since Lynie's recruit session. So be extra careful, because I'd never know if something happened to those. Nobody would. Not in a million years.”

Hyune Giling pushed up his glasses and grinned. “Ah, now I see. How wonderfully devious and warped, as expected of an Ultra Rare Warper.”

“Oh, stop! I can't stand to be praised so much.”

“I think we all got it,” Tramda said, but was ignored.

“It's well deserved, I assure you. Hmhm. Ha ha. Ahahaha!”

“Heeheehee!

“WAHAHAHA!”

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

“OHOHOHOHO!”

A bold selection of brave Rares sneaked through Freegate's still night, led by Quircy Rau. The idle-challenging officers all participated except for Quille Treten, who demurred on the grounds that Santas were for giving presents, not taking them. A couple of the more sedate silvers joined as well, Hyune Giling in appreciation of the aggressive scheme and to replace the genius stripped from him long ago, and Stan because he, in his own words, “love[d] crime.”

Quircy took them to the Barracks first, where she hauled out box after box from under her assigned bed. “Where did you get this stuff? All those shops in Perandra Splendida don't sell Halloween decorations, and I'm sure because I checked, and that was last week too,” Ipons Ulsrada said.

“I traded with a friend in Dungeon Express Re:Development for some buman shavings. They think it's an aphrodisiac. Here's the pièce de résistance.” She pulled out a cauldron that was unquestionably bigger than the gap under the bed, but not everything needs to be questioned.

“How did that fit in there?”

“That doesn't need to be questioned. Weren't you listening? We can start in here. Stand outside and warn us if anyone's coming, Blue-hair.”

“I agree with sending Ipons Ulsrada away, farther if possible, but what would be the consequences of discovery?”

“Our aim is to present the other officers with a fait accompli. Think of it this way, Inferno Strategist. If we're seen before we redecorate, they'll probably tell us to knock it off and take down what we've put up. If everybody wakes up and sees the whole castle done up like I want it, they'll figure that's something the artists did. Or else, that fixing it would be too much of a bother. Now hang these bats somewhere.”

They hung bats from upper bunks and pasted ghost stickers on the walls. Orange balloons in the corner floated over a gravestone, unsettling beyond description. The Barracks offered little space for aesthetic reimagination, and therefore the redecorating crew, Ipons included, packed up and headed over to the Public Service area. The bulletin board that sent spare officers out for set durations in return for small amounts of various materials needed some sprucing up.

“But what do we do if someone does find us?” Clyse asked. “And let's angle that cardboard witch a bit. There.”

“Stuff him in the pot,” Ulrik suggested.

“Grab him and throw him in the cauldron,” Burmin advised.

“That must be a Reaper plan!” Ipons admired.

“It's also a Quircy plan. If you think it's impressive how this baby can hide under a bed, wait until you see how many officers you can fit inside. This is a genuine magical cauldron from a nightmare dungeon, not just some prop. Run that vine along the top of the board. You can reach up there, can't you, halberd guy? Tape it down. Or staple it, I don't care.”

Flanked by a witch on one side and a pumpkin on the other, the bulletin board was ready to dispatch officers on expeditions to Spookytown. Quircy crept over to a small door into the main keep, eased it open, peeked in, and waved her Rares over. “Now for the dailies,” she whispered.

The Practice Ring where officers fought and won Sparring Partners to feed new recruits got itself scarecrows on the ring posts, ghosts draped over the ropes, and pumpkins everywhere. The decorators seated some werewolf figures ringside as well.

“I know there are some vampires and mummies in that box, but don't use those. We don't want anyone getting the wrong idea, do we?”

“Yeah, about that,” Tramda Olex said. “So I get the basic idea. Halloween's coming. If it's a witch theme they give someone witchy an alt. Sure. But first, you can suggest a witch theme but you can't really force it. Second, what if someone else gets the alt? Skaya? Zimley Boe?”

“Zims getting it would be fine as far as I'm concerned.” Quircy Rau tilted her head upward. “Listen up, tiny luman. Yeah, even if it works, I'm only cutting the candidate list down by about half. Should I give up then? Not cut the list in half? Nothing ever guarantees results, but we can influence the conditions around them.”

“Wow! Is that how a Warper plan works? Man, I'm glad I came.”

“Didn't I make you the lookout, Blue-hair?”

“Reginald's doing that. He has no decorative sense at all.”

“I don't know who that is, but I'll take your word for it. Oh well, we're done here. Next is Base Exploration.”

Every officer who was any officer, so not Rares, required class items for skill leveling, and what better way to acquire them than by plundering one of Alben's bases beneath Freegate guarded by adamant automata forged in the images of representatives of the six classes every single day, forever?

“The question is, why were these particular officers used as models? Particularly Cadmos. The other five are all from Perandra Regna, but how did Alben know about him? Is he secretly a magically created supersoldier who escaped, or Alben from the past who crossed space and time to stop himself?”

“The real question is, why aren't you on lookout duty, Clipboard? Blue-hair said he handed it off to you.”

“Dennet's doing it. He has no appreciation for mystery.”

“I don't know who that is, but fine. Hang this plaster harvest moon over the entrance.”

The door off the hallway led into an antechamber. On the other side, a white door of some material otherwise unknown in Perandra Regna was set in an adamant wall etched with lines and curves of unknown meaning. Everyone knew all that stuff deserved to be covered by ghost and pumpkin stickers, but not a single officer had the guts till then.

Quircy directed another successful redecoration, and then ordered them to the rear gate where players sent off teams for Convoy Raids and Rares sent themselves to prepare zany schemes. A wagon sat there with part of it in player view.

“This wagon should really be covered for better defense in case the guys we take the gold from counterattack.”

“Weren't you the one on lookout?”

“Sindze took over for me. She said she doesn't care about money, since she can live off the land.”

“No idea who that is, but I like your thinking. Let's stretch some canvas over this thing. Paint it orange and black. Hang these streamers and ivy from the portcullis.”

“There really is canvas and paint in here. Is there anything Dungeon Express Re:Development doesn't have?” Clyse wondered.

“Event variety,” Burmin Trivvis said, and the sadness in his voice touched every heart.