“What do you want to know?” he said, avoiding her eyes. “But keep it brief. Moon’s getting high in the sky, and me and Jore have to head out early next morning.”

“Don’t worry, it’s just two little things.” She had been thinking very carefully about what she wanted to know. Not particularly in order of importance, but in order of how annoying it felt not to know it. “First question. How do heroes gain experience?”

The question had been nagging her ever since Brutus brought it up. Villains killed for it, but heroes? It was still a question mark in her mind.

“Historically, or current day?”

“Current day,” she huffed, sensing she would get a lecture if she wasn’t careful. “Right now.”

He frowned. “Well, right now it’s rather simple. They exchange a villain’s soul for money.”

Akemi choked.

“Exchange their souls?” She coughed. “And how exactly is that more noble than a villain slitting a hero’s throat?”

He shrugged. “Well, depends on how you define noble.”

“I’d expect your average person to define it with less manslaughter.”

Kobe laughed. “Well, the way a hero sees it, it’s not manslaughter. They’re just lending your soul to Kyndra for cleansing. Heroes don’t see what happens to your body after it evaporates into shiny gold coins, so they don’t have to worry about the ethics of all of it. But in the practical sense, you’re being sold. Your soul goes to the Immortal Marketplace, where it’s put up for auction to all kinds of creeps and freaks—soul-slave traders, archangel politicians looking for free interns. Kyndra does save some for her personal collection, I hear, but mostly she just disposes of them there.”

Akemi pursed her lips, digesting the information. She was mildly—no, thoroughly—impressed.

“This Kyndra, she’s the hero goddess, right? She sounds… diabolical.”

Kobe nodded, agreeing vaguely with her assessment.

“Heroes and villains, it’s all just semantics. Kyndra and the Dark Lady are good pals, as far as I’ve read. In fact, wanna hear something that'll blow your brains out? No war has ever been waged by their suggestion. It's always some mortal throwing a brick at another mortal under the pretense of this goddess told me so. Why? Because no common person bothers to read the actual historical texts. A whole lot of disagreements could be settled if the average citizen picked up a book.” He groaned. This was obviously a sore subject. “I chose the path of the villain because it's the most lucrative. Simple as that. I see it as a means to an end, like any other job. Most heroes live like despots in those communal housing situations. Not me and Jore. We’re aiming to live like kings.”

“With the crowns and everything,” Jore added smugly, grabbing two twigs and placing them on his head for emphasis. “Kobe will bring in the money, and I’ll make sure a gourmet dinner of steak, cheese, and berries is on the table every night. Ain’t that right, Kobe?”

“You seem to have conveniently forgotten the catering business you swore you’d start once we got things going.” Kobe glared. “This isn’t about to be a single-income household, you jerk.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Jore giggled.

“One last question,” Akemi said, waving her hand to get their attention. The moon was decidedly high in the sky, and she sensed Kobe’s patience was running thin. “Do you happen to know who the Avatar is?”

Kobe gave her a strange look. “The cow?”

“Yes!” Akemi shouted excitedly. “Yes, the goddamn cow.”

“He’s the System Arbiter. Settles… disputes. Not much is known about him other than that. I’ve tried to find good books about him, but they’re all rather verbose. The type of books that say a lot without saying much at all. There is one interesting tidbit, though.” His eyes glinted again. “It’s said that he occasionally bestows gifts, especially in the form of skills and abilities, but other sources disagree about the terminology—that he does not bestow gifts, but counterbalances. He’s predominantly concerned with equality, after all, not winners and losers.”

That sounds familiar.

Akemi realized quickly that she didn’t care so much to know about the cow—and especially not about his philosophies—but about what to do with his so-called gifts.

“If one were to receive one of these skill-type gifts, would there be a way to improve that skill? Upgrade it? I’ve only seen the ability to upgrade skills that are from classes you have chosen, not for skills that were… bestowed, or whatever it is.”

Kobe’s facade of disinterest fell to the wayside, his mouth parting slightly in obvious curiosity.

“Have you received a blessing from the Avatar?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“You must tell me everything,” he demanded, blinking quickly. “Your first-hand account is better than any shabby book I could dream to find in Grimguard’s libraries.”

She considered it. She didn’t particularly feel like telling him anything. But he had been useful to her, and she didn’t feel like killing him right now—her back ached from the walking, and his brother was slightly too helpless to fend for himself (see: Akemi's code for murder, doctrine I)—so with a roll of her eyes, she gave him a concise recap of how she ended up here.

“Fascinating. Just fascinating,” Kobe said. He was scribbling into a small notebook, recording her every word like it was gospel.

“Sorry to hear about your village back on Urth,” Jore mumbled. “I would be mighty displeased if my home went up in smoke like that just before I got to play your, er, vid-ae-yo-game?”

“Videogame,” Akemi corrected.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

With the tension between them diffused, the group found themselves talking until the fire was mere cinders, and the sun had begun to break through the horizon. Akemi, never a fan of conversation unless it concluded in either money or food, found it all unexpectedly tolerable. Mostly because Kobe was surprisingly intelligent. He knew about a wide assortment of subjects, from the Emberheart Plains’ geography to the history of the various guilds. He was the type of person who would have excelled on Jeopardy, if Kodra had such a thing.

“I must say, Akemi. If I’m honest, I was thinking of chopping you to bits and selling the armor, but you’re alright,” Kobe said. “In fact, I… I was thinking maybe we should stay in touch. In case you remember anything else about your experiences with the Avatar. Or if he reaches out again, and so forth. In exchange, I’d be happy to, er, answer a question here and there, when we have the time.”

“Yes! Me too!” Jore said gleefully, clopping his hooves together. “I don’t think I’ll be too helpful on the question front—unless you’re asking about how to season a mackerel—but I’d love to come check in on that doggy of yours sometime. I’m sure he’s gonna grow up real big and fluffy.”

Akemi didn’t have the heart to tell him that she doubted the pika was going to grow bigger than a handbasket, so she didn’t. But she did accept their offer.

“You can add us as accomplices,” Kobe explained. “It’s a perk of being a villain. Heroes have to use old-fashioned ways of communication—letters, doves, the like—but if you mark us as accomplices, we can send each other messages through the System.”

“Really?” Akemi raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That seems like a huge advantage over heroes. In battles, wouldn’t that act as a form of telepathy?”

Kobe gave her an impressed grin. “It has a certain message radius. You can only use it to send messages to accomplices that are out of your immediate range. So no, no battle telepathy.”

“Hm. Too bad. But still useful.”

She added them both as accomplices. Just as they were about to fold the flap closed on their tents, it crossed her mind to ask the obvious.

“Kobe, one last question,” she ventured. “Where the hell is Grimguard?”