Will counted Pigeon’s AP crystals to try and riddle out what skill—or skills—she had used for that attack. She had been at 14 at the start of the fight, and now she was at 11. She hadn’t spent enough for it to be an amp combo, at least he didn’t think so. She hadn't used any verbal commands or hand signs, but that was to be expected of a Level 30.

Her legendary advancement was in ‘Compress’, whatever that was. It had to be related to that somehow.

In any case, now he knew beyond any doubt the caliber of the woman they were dealing with. He had already assumed that she possessed such power, but now he had seen it for himself. It was clear that this display was far from a sincere effort, too. More like the lowest baseline of her power.

<>

I’m not drooling.

<>

Will snorted, glancing as she jogged up a rope bridge towards him and Pigeon. Oh, the horror. Anything but that.

<>

Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll gas you up plenty.

Bee radiated smugness at that. She approached Pigeon and looked down at the shorter woman, flipping up her hat so they could look each other in the eye.

“Nice fight,” Bee said. “We’re all very impressed.”

“Thanks,” Pigeon said blankly. They were little more than a hand’s breadth apart, but the Jeweler didn’t show any sign of discomfort.

Probably not the time to be mad-dogging a Level 30, Will suggested helpfully, though he already knew it would fall on deaf ears.

<>

Will laughed out loud, and Pigeon frowned over at him like she was looking at a crazy person. There was no way for him to explain himself, so he just cleared his throat and shrugged.

“You know, you’re very pretty,” Bee continued with a smile so excessively friendly that it bordered on psychopathic. “Of course, some men prefer a woman with a bit of meat on her bones, but I'm sure there are many admirers of your conventional beauty.”

“Is she like this all the time?” Pigeon asked towards Will.

“Pretty much,” Will said, sighing. “I think she’s… marking her territory. Please ignore her.”

“Noted. Listen, Miss Whoever-You-Are, I promise I have no interest in your man.”

If anything, Bee looked equally offended at that. “Why not? What’s wrong with him?”

“I…” Pigeon looked to Will once more for assistance, but only got a shrug. “I’m sure he’s very nice. But as much as I’m enjoying this conversation, I would appreciate us moving it along. The wretcher has begun mobilizing. Not much time for us to act.”

“How do you know this?” Will asked.

“I have my ways. No need for you to know them all.”

Will reluctantly accepted that that was simply how it was going to be, and took Pigeon at her word. They went down to the dead Artificer’s shop in order to take their fill of the restitution they had been promised.

The corpse had been disposed of, but his blood had pooled into the floorboards and gone all black and sticky.

Pigeon held up a hand to stop him when he was only a few steps inside. “I’ll go first,” she said. “You can have the leftovers. Reckon I’ve earned it, since I killed a man on your behalf.”

“Sure, that sounds fine,” Will forced out with all the false graciousness he could muster.

Pigeon used a command with the Inventory passive to open a circular black void, about the size of a man’s head, before her. It followed her as she walked around the shelves of parts and products. Whenever she deposited an item into the void, it vanished and left no trace behind.

Will had plans with Inventory himself. He would have Bee pick it at Level 10. But that was an issue for another time.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

In the end, Pigeon didn’t take much, only an assortment of random baubles he had no use for. Depending on how many ranks she had in Inventory, it didn’t hold much volume anyway, so she was presumably being strategic to avoid overburdening herself.

Will had free rein of the rest. He took the rifle along with a bag of several dozen rounds, and the double-barreled shotgun with a handful of slugs. He didn’t hope for much in terms of reagents, since this was an Artificer’s abode, but he tossed the place in search of some regardless.

His potion stock was running low. He had hoped to replenish it before they moved on, as they would certainly need them with what lay ahead.

He found four bottles of an organic oil that would likely serve to do something, a bag of crushed-up seashells, and six packets of powder paint pigments. Beyond that, about what he had expected. Not much of use.

“How much are we allowed to take?” Will asked, taking an odd goggled helmet off a shelf and turning it over in his hands.

“We can keep going until someone tells us to stop,” Pigeon said with a shrug.

I doubt anyone’s going to do that anytime soon.

Fuck it, then. Everyone in this town probably hates me already, so I might as well go nuts.

In addition to his other spoils, Will found a small enchanted lantern along with a self-winding wrist watch that wasn’t very pretty, but seemed to be in decent working order at least.

Bee looked around with him, and became rather taken with a one-handed, bearded war axe she found. It wasn’t enchanted, just worked from slightly better material than your typical black iron slag, but that was good enough for her. After giving it a few test swings and listening to the steel sing, she stuck it through her belt and gave the flat of the blade a happy pat.

The man had kept his earnings in a small chest below the counter, which Bee had soon smashed open like a piñata. There were roughly 1 500 graces inside in bills and coins. Pigeon took half of that, and Will let Bee take the other half.

Will found a sack in the back of the shop that he stuffed most of his spoils into. He felt like a cartoon robber, toting that thing over his shoulder as they left.

Once they were finished at the Artificer’s, they still had one more home to rob, that of the Farmer Pigeon had killed. They had a reluctant marshal show them the way to a small home on the outskirts of town. Pigeon knocked the handle off the locked door with a lazy swipe of her hand, allowing them access.

The man had not been a rich sort, living the life of a slovenly bachelor. What little money he had lying around was barely worth taking, but he did have some potted herbs in his windows that Will could harvest.

He procured additional reagents from several merchants staying in town. Enough to sort out the basics. He returned to the room at the inn, and while everyone else packed up and prepared themselves for departure, he brewed what he could. Healing potions—enough for each member of the group to keep one on their person and then some—two potions of cure disease, two corrosive slime phials, and two energy potions.

Not his best lineup, but a sight better than what they’d had an hour ago.

When they had one of the lifts lower them down to the forest floor and set off north, there was only one thing that really bothered Will. He still didn’t know what was in that elixir, and the fact that Walther the Wanker—or whatever his name was—had been willing to kill him over it only inflamed his itch to find out.

He asked if Pigeon could help him with it, but she said that her Identify wasn’t high enough. He wasn’t sure if he believed her, but it wasn’t like he could compel the truth out of her.

Before they moved out of sight from Talltop, Pigeon had them stop so she could lay out a circle of small stones on the ground. She drew runic symbols inside, then said a few words, and five of her AP crystals winked out.

“Circle of Teleportation,” she explained. “Once our business is finished at the wayshrine, I will transport us back here, and we can go our separate ways before the wretcher’s scattering hordes make trouble for us.”

“Where will you be going?” Will asked.

“North. Stormfort. Lady Winter is paying me for this.”

Lady Winter was on the Council of Peers, same as Brimstone. Also known as the Witch, the only thing Will really knew about her was that she could raise the dead, and that most of the other Frontier lords feared her.

That didn’t surprise him much. She’d have to be one hard bitch to preside over Stormfort, the Frontier’s flaming anus.

If Pigeon answered to her, at least that meant she wasn’t going to try and butt in on a share of their payment. Hopefully.

They moved in among the beeches, forest growing denser and more unruly as they left the shadow of the longfather trees. Pigeon made up the lead, continually pulling ahead of them and being forced to double back so they could catch up. Oatmeal trudged along near the back with Will and Bee, as usual looking about as intrepid as a bunny rabbit. Mongrel led Zero at the middle of the pack. His demon familiar lay sprawled on top of the horse, and was ribbing him about how he walked like a pervert.

Will felt happy that at least he wasn’t the only one with a world-class critic for a woman.

“It goes without saying,” Pigeon called from the front, “but you should avoid Talltop for a while. Especially you, William Dahl. That display will not have endeared you to the general population.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Will said.

He’d gathered as much already. He wasn’t that stupid.

<>

I know, right?

<>

Super fucking weird.

Pigeon had several ranks in Orienteering, which allowed them to avoid the worst of the pitfalls in the rough, sloping, root-strewn terrain, but progress was still slow. When they made camp that evening—at 19:35, according to his new watch—Pigeon told them that they had covered about two thirds of the distance to the wayshrine. That left them with a sizable trip in the morning.

They had fresh ingredients to make dinner with. Nix whipped up a thick stew with potatoes and vegetables, and sliced sausage, along with soft bread to soak in it, and even a bit of fresh fruit for dessert.

“Now,” Pigeon said, draining a drink of piss-poor Talltop wine before shaking her cup at Number Two, who was holding the bottle, to refill it. “Let’s talk about tomorrow. You must be nervous, but I’ll see that you make it out happy, healthy, and alive.”

For some reason, Will didn’t feel entirely reassured.