In the morning, Lenya woke first and was gone before we woke. While stretching out into a few different poses (whatever vague recollection I had of yoga), I found solace in the stream of my inner power. Casting my mind’s eye inwards, I stepped into the warm, softly-flowing water and gazed down at the points of light within: [Battle Tactics] was there, two crimson dots; of course [Weapon Mastery], two, steel blue; [Vigour], two, burnt orange; then what I understood as the burgeoning forest green [Beast Mastery] and sandy brown [Survival]; and then there were also three others, one a natural off-white, like the creamy colour of thistle flowers; one a shining, arcane deep purple; and another that, while I focused on it, shifted between blue, grey, red, brown, and back again.

I sent out a probe.

SYS? I know about [Beast Mastery] and [Survival] — those make sense, given the trials I’ve gone through thus far. What are the other three?

Bzz.

The little bronze orb popped into existence beside my right ear. The electric blue eye stretched over its form and seemed to peer past my skull. Reluctantly, with what I’m sure was an inaudible sigh, the voice came back:

// SYS : [Herbalism], and it appears [Mysticism] and [Elementalism]. //

I blinked.

Huh. [Herbalism] I guess I understand, I’ve eaten a couple of herbs, but the magic ones? I guess Skills grow as you are exposed to them?

// SYS : Not ordinarily, no. Skills are gained normally through weeks or months of daily use, think as an apprentice sculptor learning under a master. Something strange is happening with yours. I can only think that it might be because you have been directly involved in Lenya’s use of her own magic. . . . I have said before, you have an ambitious cap— //

Yes, an ambitious capability, thanks. I watched the new colours for a little while longer, not quite present enough for me to reach out and grab, but growing. Of them, it seemed to me, [Survivalism] was almost ready.

Vigorously warmed up, a few beads of sweat on my forehead, I found whatever I could use as a mirror — a plate-sized shining, polished bronze disc. My arms were corded muscle, flexing came as aggressive twitches that bulged the skin. My neck was thicker. My thighs were powerful. But my body was compact, sort of like coiled, I thought — I wasn’t nearly approaching the sheer bulk of Alator, though.

Perhaps that’s due to body type? I coped. I stepped over Alator’s sleeping form and out the door.

The morning was much like the others since the Scouring, with a few morose faces pottering about. In the light of the late dawn, with the suns well over the tops of the jungle forest but not yet out of sight behind the tier above, I could see one of the vigilant mourners, dressed in black. There were also a few jungle-folk and others who had a little more energy to them, mostly crafters, but a few others — slowly returning to their normal lives.

Or else, no longer able to fully grasp the situation they’re in, I darkly thought.

The bronze sphere glinted in the light.

SYS, in your view, how’s my progress?

// SYS : This question again. I do not have your destiny mapped out, Talbot. You are a Guardian of the New Worlds, a Warrior of the Gods, I have simply set you on the path. //

Okay, Gandalf.

She ignored me.

// SYS : Your progress is stellar. Your improvement thus far — being only on Barbican for two fast weeks — is nothing short of miraculous. //

My chest grew two sizes and a weight was lifted from my mind.

// SYS : But do not grow complacent. //

Then the System faded from existence with a buzz. At that moment, I spotted Lenya turn a corner and walk towards the house. She had a long loaf of bread and a wrapped parcel — I guessed cheese — in one hand, her ever-present staff in the other.

Back inside, spreading soft cheese over the bread and chowing down, still not touching the sides of my new insane appetite, Alator awoke. He did not touch the food, just did his normal back walkover to stretch, and I saw a soft yellow smoke drift from his eyes and dissipate as he must have tested his access of his own Skills.

“Plans for the day?” I asked as a corporate reflex.

“Nothing. If you have no better ideas, Talbot, I implore you to consent to our continuing our journey. I have heard of a great city a few days’ walk along the Trade Road, Uruk. It is our best bet to learn more about the World-Eater, and sounds as fine a place as any to fortify and prepare for its coming.”

Over the meal, we explained our plans to Alator. He was still steaming, cranky and flinching at everything, but at least spoke to us both like adults. In particular, he showed much more respect to Lenya than he had been — certainly more than the night before.

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His form of an apology, I guess. Or else . . . he just enjoyed how she berated me.

“So now we’re fully just dogs for the wardens?” he asked.

“Listen to us,” I said. My psyche was still rocked by Lenya’s accusations, and felt on edge around Alator, but through the course of the conversation, he had . . . warmed is certainly not the right word, perhaps cooled.

“Before we handed Yariq over to the wardens,” Lenya said, her voice light and melodious, losing that imperious edge, “We forced some information out of him. An organisation called the Crimson Crown knew about the coming attack.”

Alator’s eyes shot wide and he leapt to his feet, as if to immediately physically attack the notion.

“Calm down,” I said. “And listen to her.”

“We know nothing about the Crimson Crown, other than they seem to be a Barbican-wide collection of powerful and ambitious people. The Shadow Prowlers — the bandits we met on the road — knew about the attack as well. We are setting off this morning, with a warden guide named Drya, to find where the Shadow Prowlers are, learn what they know and how they learnt it, hopefully get a lead on the Crimson Crown, and, if possible, to bring General Skelth, their leader, to justice.”

Alator breathed out his lungs and settled a little.

“Then we have a plan. Take the rest of your burnt wheat and hardened off-milk with you, we’re heading there now.” And he walked fast paced to the door and threw it open.

“It’s bread and cheese, Alator. By Jove, it’s food.”

“That’s not food; it was never alive,” he called behind him.

As we approached the Wardship, we saw Teera the bookkeeper unlocking the door with a large iron key. A gaggle of wardens were set outside, awaiting their orders. Paresh wasn’t yet there.

“Bright and early!” Teera’s croaking voice called out to us.

“We are here for Drya,” Alator led.

A sweet white-grey face appeared out of the group of wardens, and Drya stepped forwards, her golden fur covered by leather travelling clothes.

“Tiki-rah, you two. Pleasure to meet ya, Alator,” she smiled.

“Yes,” he said.

“Let’s get on,” Alator said, already turning.

“Hold on, we’re waiting for Paresh. The council of Ith-Korr is awaiting word from the other cities on the Boiling Sea.” Addressing Drya, I asked, “How long is the journey?”

“We’ll get to da start of deir territory in a couple of hours,” Drya said, throwing a thumb over her shoulder. “After dat, I don’t know, but all going well ya might well be back before nightfall. I’d like to let de Captain know properly dat we’re on our way, as well. He’ll only be a few minutes. Please,” she said, indicating the door.

We followed Teera and Drya into the antechamber and set down on chairs. Only a couple of minutes passed before Wardship Captain Paresh arrived and greeted us all.

“Thank you again for agreeing, and for being here so early. You are to head into the jungle to make sense of what Drya’s contact, the Shadow Prowler named Tilke, was bragging about; that they have connections to the Crimson Crown, to find out what they knew of the attack on Ith-Korr, and ultimately . . . if General Skelth, their leader, is willing to offer any help. Now, remember, the Shadow Prowlers are criminals, but their crimes rarely extend to murder, or anything else that deserves capital punishment.”

“They’re desperate and they’re lashing out,” I said. “It’s understandable.”

“Insightful,” Paresh nodded, “But of course the damage they do hurts our city just the same. Traders on the Road? That will kill whatever trade still exists in this harsh land . . . whatever trade will still exist after the Scouring.”

Drya’s gaze dropped.

“Your primary objective is just to reach out to them. Learn more. Try to convince him to send at least a peaceful envoy to the Wardship so we can discuss this properly. We only have it on one drunken man’s word that they had knowledge of the Scouring before it happened, so don’t —”

“But he did have knowledge of the Crimson Crown,” I butted in.

“Yes,” Paresh was silent a moment, then conceded. “Use your best judgement.”

“You have my word that I will preserve what peace I can,” I nodded.

Alator scoffed next to me, but much to my relief, said nothing.

“I trust that you will,” Paresh said.

“That was the primary objective, do we have another?” I asked.

“Second is to secure the safe return of our wardens. The patrol we spoke about before was four people, all now likely prisoners in their camp.”

I nodded.

“Any word from your messengers?”

It seemed to take a moment for Paresh to understand the words. On a hunch, I touched the Analysis Card in my pouch.

Name :

Paresh, Wardship Captain, Level 16

Stats :

Str 12, Dex 15, Con 9, Mnd 4

Skills :

Battle Tactics Lvl 2 (Lvl 3)

Inventory :

Bronze Whistle, Mibege Flask, 19 Copper Coins

Weakness :

Reluctant to kill

Home :

Ith-Korr, Barbican

With a sinking heart, I realised his Mind Stat had reduced by one.

Is it possible that giving into the emotions as he did yesterday did it?

“Oh, of course, I’ve just come from there,” Paresh said, and collected his thoughts. “Only one, so far; we have word from Nekesh on the northern shore. They were also assaulted, but it seems only by the bat minions, not the larger fiend. They fared . . . better than we did; by chance there is a party of heroes there.”

A party of heroes? Now we’re talking. I made a mental note.

“That sort of thing common?”

“Heroes?” Paresh looked at one of the tapestries that depicted the red suns lowering over a beautiful jungle horizon. “Not here, at least not of your type. We understand there are many in Uruk. This party of heroes is led by a man named Yorrick the Collector.”

At my double take and Alator’s scoff, Paresh added:

“You know of him? We don’t have any other information, but I will ask for some whenever we send another messenger to Nekesh.”

“Thank you,” I said. Yorrick of Ur-Kadesh! Was wondering if I’d ever run back into him. He’s from Earth, like me. Must have headed straight there to get there so quickly. Then I straightened my back and turned to the golden-furred jungle-folk beside me. “Ready to go, Drya?” I asked her.

Unsettling hesitation passed over her eyes, but after a glance to her colleagues, she stamped her foot and said, “At once.”