Every time Zarian entered Ride-or-Die Village the mundane way, he couldn’t help but chuckle from how over the top it looked.

Corma, the World of Castles and Caverns, was a high fantasy medieval setting. Yet, a new Outsider wouldn’t know that from the slight futurism Hannah had built into the village.

There were magic lights shining from the top of magic poles on every street corner. There were magic signs that glowed with colorful neon lights from over entrances and on the sides of various cubic buildings. There were even magic lights that shone from the streets themselves, highlighting when traffic should move, stop, or cross intersections cautiously.

Beyond the lights, there were the buildings. Ride-or-Die Village wasn’t built wide, it was built high and low.

Most buildings reached up to a hundred and fifty feet into the air, staying well under the height of the walls. However, the length of the buildings extended downward as well, taking full advantage of the ground’s stability and depth.

The newcomers couldn’t help but gawk around, unless they were paladins.

Bernard’s people looked at everything distrustfully, as if this medieval futurism was the work of devils in the Hidden Hell. They were sourpusses like that. The striders making it through the gate reacted way better.

“By the gods, good and evil, I thought this place would be a shithole from the name of it!” a strider woman yelled.

“It all looks too amazing to be real. I can already feel my coin bag dwindling away to nothing, and I haven’t bought anything yet,” a strider man said.

“I don’t even want to know the taxes of this place. How many people have they deployed to make all of this? It must’ve taken thousands!” another strider man shouted.

“I think I want to live here forever. This is way better than my old village back in the windy kingdom,” a strider woman said.

“How can anyone think of this place as anything but evil?” asked a random paladin who was outside of Bernard’s group. “They even let in man-eating beasts.”

Ezda had never gone into Ride-or-Die Village before. She’d only seen things from the outside. Even with her bestial shifted face, Zarian could see the amazement showing through her hanging maw and wide-open eyes.

The giant gnoll was even taking careful steps to not crush anyone under paw while looking about and sniffing at new things. People scattered quickly to get out of her way still, but for the most part, everything was fine with Ezda.

The striders were more amazed with the village than the deadly gnoll elder in their midst, too. They were quick to assume the Madness Wizard was in control, and they were right to do so.

Zarian was trying not to snicker because the new people had seen nothing yet. There were more unique features and amenities inside of the buildings. Right now, they were crossing through a gatehouse marketplace that was filled with hustle and bustle.

Along the sides of the marketplace, there were vending stalls. Each hawker and seller had their own designated position highlighted with more lights, some brighter than others depending on the packages they selected when they paid for their permit to sell.

Everybody was mostly on their best behavior as the security skeletons made their patrols around the village along with rolling golems. Though they were mostly a show of force.

The real eyes and ears on the ground came from someone far scarier than most people in this world could appreciate. Ignorant of Hannah’s reach and power, the striders, gardeners, and the few paladins working the stalls yelled out hoping to make some coin by nearly whatever means that wasn’t too illegal.

“Get your anti kobold oil right here! One whiff of this scent and the nasty kobolds might run away!” hawked an oily strider.

“We have blessed armor here, my friends. Chain mail. Scale. Plate. And yes, they are all blessed to keep you secure from the foulness of evil! You don’t want to go into the wilds of the frontier without some blessed armor, my friends!” shouted an entrepreneurial paladin.

“Foreigners won’t know the lands like us gardeners do! Get our services to keep you on track to complete your quests. All for a cheap price. We’ll take any coin from strider or paladin, as long as it’s in gold or silver!” offered an eager gardener.

Zarian wasn’t a fan of that last vendor. He didn’t care if it was cutting into the business of the Ride-or-Die Guild. That wasn’t a big deal. The guild had plenty of business.

The problem was that any gardener acting as if they knew the frontier was mostly lying. The first people who knew the area around North Crown Peak had died to the wolf kobolds and wolf dragons before Ride-or-Die Village became a thing.

Granted, the gardener playing second-rate tour guide could’ve learned from Zarian’s guild first before striking out on his own to take advantage of an opening in the market.

Either way, someone among the Hemlock Family must’ve approved it, and so far, Rhea’s people had done a somewhat decent job at running the village’s admin side while serving as Hannah’s peons.

“Is something a bother, milord?” Roland asked, dressed in armor that looked like weaves of roses, vines, and thorns. He was one of the few young men who had the amazing fortune of getting an epic class that suited him.

“Eh, it’s nothing to worry about,” Zarian said. “Well, except for the bird poop on the statue. Poor Stony deserves better.”

Roland turned to look at a pleasantly aesthetic fountain in the middle of the marketplace. The fountain had a statue that featured Stony the Wall Crusher Master as the centerpiece.

Of course, the statue was much smaller than the actual giant, but the spirit of the showpiece remained the same. It was Zarian and the others’ way of saying thanks to the giant, even despite his desertion.

Stony had largely contributed to their success when they had to put down defenses for the first version of the fortified dwelling. So they had statues of him made everywhere, which was confusing for newcomers, because they didn’t find Stony appealing enough to deserve such.

Zarian found it humorous when visitors kept trying to understand why the statues of Stony were so important.

The ditches didn’t dig themselves, Zarian thought. If you’ve never had to dig fox holes and dugouts and trenches, you won’t know how annoying and tedious that can be without major help.

“I can clean the droppings off of Saint Stony, milord,” said another guild member.

“Nah, Osbert, the skeletons will handle it. You go on to the library and get your hot cocoa drink. That goes for the rest of you once you drop off your loot. Now, as for my paladin friends here.”

Zarian turned toward Bernard.

The Battle Priest looked back with barely contained contempt. The man was clearly exasperated with a situation that was out of his hands and out of the control of his gods.

Zarian couldn’t help but add salt to the wound, first by dumping half of the kobold bodies in front of Stony’s statue and letting everyone in the marketplace see it.

Then Zarian said, “I don’t want payment, friend. There’s nothing you have that I need. Think of this as a charitable effort.”

“We are deeply appreciative of your aid and continued efforts to conduct yourself for the greater good,” Bernard replied by rote, noticing the stares and growing silence from everyone in the gate marketplace.

The kobold bodies were worth a lot. More importantly, everyone was paying attention to the conversation.

Zarian dialed up the free evil +3. It wasn’t as scary as before. But he didn’t need to be scary when he could be darkly attractive and convincing, his monstrous cloak fluttering with sudden grace behind him.

“For the greater good? Nonsense!” Zarian boasted. “This is the power of freedom! I’m free to save your lives when you and your people nearly got yourselves killed by kobolds. And I’m free to help carry these bodies without asking for a price. No greater good necessary, just plain old freedom.”

Zarian had never thought himself much of a politician. He was leaning on his free evil +3 to help him mostly. But once he was on a roll, it was kind of fun.

Yeah, good had the benefit of power ups.

But evil was surprisingly flexible, while displaying cunning and smarts in different areas beyond the narrow scope that good applied itself. In other words, Zarian had the extra juice buffing his finesse, and the old priest was finding himself outmatched.

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“No, no, that makes little sense. Good should define freedom,” Bernard tried to counter hastily.

Zarian kept punching down on him with charismatic words. “There’s no need for the old ways of good or evil. Nobody should ever have to feel trapped by that anymore. It’s because we are free that we are the last stand against the wolf dragons and the wolf kobolds. It’s because we are free that striders can make their way here without ridicule from gardeners and paladins!”

“Hells yeah!” a strider shouted.

Zarian winked at the crowd who was reacting positively to his words. Bernard shook with anger as his carefully crafted character of a calm old man was slipping away.

Just when he was about to say something that he would probably regret, Ezda returned to hang over Zarian like a loyal giant of a beast. Bernard hesitated, and Ezda took advantage.

“It’s because of freedom that I’m no longer of the evil alignment,” she said. “I’m a free gnoll. I’m not in the mood to eat all of you all the time. Not like before.”

The marketplace still had some conversations circling about even at a low volume. When Ezda spoke, everyone fell completely silent, surprised that the giant creature could talk, and even more surprised that a gnoll had joined the freedom alignment.

If that wasn’t a big enough sales pitch, then Zarian didn’t know what else he could do today other than close out.

“Well, I better get going. You know how it is? A lord is always busy, especially one who’s spreading freedom. But if you ever want to switch alignments, you can go see a member of my guild at the central library. Or find a friend who’s already in the freedom alignment. Join the winning side and spread freedom!”

As an invisible bird cried out with heart and passion somewhere in the background, Zarian walked off with Ezda and his kiddos, leaving Bernard stewing with rage without having much of an outlet. The marketplace became a whirlwind of conversation, and most of it was leaning slightly toward the positive about the brand-spanking new freedom alignment.

All it took to move the needle further was making someone else look like a bumbling fool while giving them a ‘charitable hand’ and a gator-like smile. Who knew doling out charities and being a politician could be so useful, so fun?

Maybe Zarian was being too antagonistic toward the old Battle Priest, but the game of politics was a cut throat business. If Zarian didn’t strike first, then he was giving his political enemies room to do whatever the hell they wanted. If they saw an opportunity to undermine his people’s efforts here, they would take it.

That was part of human nature.

He wouldn’t get to play politician often since he had a lot of studying to do, but he figured he should attempt to throw in political bombs when he could. He was the most impactful figure in the entire universe and beyond, after all.

“I don’t like how those paladins are looking at you, milord,” Roland said.

“I feel the same. But the alpha enjoys playing with the softer meat,” Ezda added.

Roland looked up at Ezda with a troubled expression, stuck between wanting to be polite and wanting to say how he really felt. The gnoll elder watched the Rose Knight curiously in return, tongue lolling out as she panted over them, her every giant step a soft thud landing beside the parade of guild members.

Zarian said nothing. He figured yesterday’s enemies could learn to be today’s friends on their own. They all served under him, so they had to learn to get along somehow.

With the busy gatehouse marketplace behind them, the activity on the streets died down quickly.

Most adventurers and visitors stayed around five main locations. They were either at the center of the village around the library or staying close to the gatehouses. There was one for each cardinal direction, and different groups usually stuck to their own depending on a direction.

Striders could be seen anywhere because they were so adventurous, but they usually stayed around the eastern gatehouse. Paladins congregated around the central library because the temples for two acceptable Good Gods were there. The northern gatehouse area was a mix of everybody.

Then there were the gardeners, especially refugees, who lived at the southern gatehouse mainly. It was the closest gate for many gardeners coming up north to escape from the fierce fighting inside and outside of their kingdom.

Zarian tried to avoid going near the southern gatehouse. His appearance was a touchy subject, despite how the refugees were living in his village. He figured that was part of the package with being a controversial figure, having to make little compromises that weren’t much of a bother to him.

What he couldn’t compromise on was the general safety of the village. Crime was still a thing, but skeletons or guild members had a handle on that, especially with the guidance of Hannah’s Magi.

There had been nothing major that drew Zarian’s attention since the start of the Mythical Regional Event. He was too big and busy to deal with the small stuff in the village.

What were petty criminals compared to lesser aberrations and the horrors his wife might unleash? They certainly didn’t compare to the regional event that might start up at any time or the slight chance of an invading force from an angry kingdom.

So it was on this day when Zarian finally found something so bizarre and out of place in his village that his heart rate picked up way faster than usual while in his own home turf. He nearly lost his calm in front of the kiddos and Ezda, and he wasn’t even sure what the problem was exactly.

It was well cloaked, making it difficult for him to feel it out with Basic Aura Manipulation. The thing waiting in an empty lot between spare buildings was invisible to his spiders and might even be invisible to Hannah’s golem eyes or even Magi himself.

Zarian was very sure something was there. It was a few blocks to the left of the central street he was on that led to the library.

“Everyone, head home without me. Show Ezda around for me, please, if she can fit,” Zarian said coolly.

“I will use a smaller form, my alpha. But is there a reason you must separate?” Ezda asked.

“Yeah, but it concerns just me, mainly.”

Zarian wasn’t sure if he should raise an alarm or not. He had to check things out first.

Roland and the others didn’t seem to sense anything amiss, or they didn’t mind Zarian wanting to go alone, unlike Ezda who wanted to cling to Zarian’s side. That was sweet of her, but he gave her a look that brooked no refusal of his orders.

Ezda bobbed her big head up and down in acknowledgement and went on ahead with the kiddos. She gave Roland a crash course opportunity on how to deal with his former enemy and learn to be friends.

It must’ve been quite a strange sight for the few visitors on the street as guild members and one giant hyena-like beast paraded about. Some guild members were still hauling carts of their kills that they hadn’t sold off at the marketplace.

Before Zarian disappeared down an alley, he remembered all the magical gear in the pocket dimension and had Para dump them into a semi-empty cart that a young girl was hauling behind her. The bronze spear poked up from the top.

Ultimately, he was better off letting the kids figure out what to do with the enchanted stuff. They could take it as new weapons or feed it to their growing dungeon. Or Hannah might pick out some that she wanted to study if anything caught her interest before she tossed it into the belly of the dungeon.

Zarian would’ve laughed if it wasn’t for the seriousness of the situation, since he imagined that a bunch of foreign adventurers would’ve choked on air if they knew all of this enchanted gear could end up as dungeon food.

For Zarian and his people, most of the stuff was unnecessary. Hannah’s enchanted crafts were usually better.

Hell, most of the damage on Zarian’s gear from corrupted attacks had already self-repaired itself. Still no monocle, but he could live without it, and he was as prepared as anyone could be as he walked the clean alleys and side streets alone.

Wherever he passed, the magical lights dimmed, submerging him in growing darkness as the dying daylight gave way to the celestial embrace of the night.

A cold winter breeze whistled between the buildings, circling around the mini lot that was empty except for a cloaked figure. The person had their hood up, face covered, while dressed in a mix of forest greens and browns that was more out of place than it should be.

Standing like a menacing sentry, the cloaked figure had a shining great sword, the tip on the floor with both hands on the wide hilts of the guard. The cloaked figure looked like an executioner waiting for his victim to come to him.

Zarian stopped at the mouth of an alley. He glanced at the nearest spectral spiders. They were still blind to the stranger even with Zarian seeing the guy with his own two eyes.

So, was this another Ariana scenario where she would only show herself a select few times? Or did the stranger have a cloaking ability that worked a specific way?

“Where are the trees?” asked the stranger.

He had an accent that Zarian couldn’t place. It sounded very affluent and arrogant, like every syllable was a chance at putting down someone else without trying.

“The architect wasn’t too concerned about that compared to making a village habitable and safe for many people.” Zarian took a seat at a bench, his cloak fluttering and moving about to Para’s whims. “Neat trick, by the way. Staying invisible to most others except for the specific way I can sense you. So either that was a hole in your cloaking or…”

Zarian trailed off to see if the stranger would finish what he was insinuating. The man didn’t bother, leaving the Madness Wizard to assume the stranger had wanted Zarian to notice, and only him alone.

Is this guy one of the nomads?

Zarian hadn’t seen this high level of meticulous magic and cloaking from anyone else, not from the gardeners, striders, or paladins. Nomads supposedly had some decent wizard types among them, so maybe the stranger was one, which would make this meeting even more interesting.

After some tense silence, the stranger spoke further with his affluent and arrogant accent.

“I’ve heard tales from my elders of how this land was once flush with towered trees as far as the eye could see. Where fruits were plenty and the beasts were merry. I heard tales where good was abundant, and the shadow of evil was hidden deep underground, never daring to surface for long. Yet here I see the horrors you humans allow to fester without our rule, without our power to put you lowlives in your place. I see the mongrel who is darkness incarnate become leader of the Dark Era, and no true man raises a sword to fight.”

“Uh,” Zarian said. “Wait a minute, you’re not a nomad.”

The stranger reached up with one hand while the other stayed on his weapon. He flipped back his hood and revealed a severely sharp and handsome face with pale skin and eyes so green they could be mistaken for forest leaves. His hair was long spools of gold as bright as the twin suns on a cloudless morning. And his ears were long and sharp at the tips.

Zarian hadn’t used his Identify trait because he figured it wouldn’t work properly on someone so uniquely cloaked. Now he knew for sure that he was meeting someone far greater than anything he’d faced before.

“Oh,” Zarian said. “You’re an elf.”

“I’m not just an elf, Dark Lord. I am Prince Ruven, Great Grandson of the Sorceress Queen, thirty-third in line to the throne of the Forever Green Empire, Captain of the Promised Continent Slayer Scouts,” Ruven said, which was only the beginning of an overly long introduction.

Letting the elf prince say his piece, Zarian tried to use the full power of the Void Waltz spell. He had to stand and shimmy around a little, ignoring his rising embarrassment, while his Fractured Mind brought up the mad text and symbols of the spell in rhythm with his moves.

The elf prince stopped to stare as Zarian completed the desired dance and attracted the void.

“What madness is this?!” the prince shouted.

“This madness is how you get served.” Zarian infused the nearby area with the void before taking himself, the elf, and part of the lot out of the village and into a cleared field north.

That was the last move Zarian would get off relatively easily before Ruven showed him what an elf prince from the Promised Continent could do.