“Hello, Roderick.”

Ike tore the metal pod out of the wall. The lights dimmed, and the puppet stilled. He leaped up. At the corner of the throat, he grabbed the puppet’s tongue and crawled out of its now-gaping, motionless mouth. He hopped to the ground.

“What’s that?” Wisp dropped from the sky, descending on a spider’s thread.

“Roderick,” Ike explained. He turned the pod around, searching for a way in. At last, he found a seam on its side. Sinking his fingers into the seam, he ripped it open.

Thumping. Throbbing. Beating.

A heart sat in the center of the pod. Above it, lungs and a brain. Below it, a core, a stomach, and all the other organs a mage would need to live. Two eyes stared at him, without eyelids or eye sockets.

Wisp blinked. “What’s that?”

Ike looked at her. “I just told you. Roderick.”

“Gross. Kill it.”

“Who did this to him? Surely he didn’t need to be in this form to operate the puppet,” Ike murmured. He tilted the pod back and forth, getting a better look at the organs. The eyes stared emotionlessly, but the heart beat faster.

“No, the fool did not. But he foolishly consented, and so, I did it thus.”

Ike and Wisp both whirled. Even as they spun, an arrow shot past them. It slammed into the heart and stopped it dead. The organs let out a sigh, and died.

A man stood opposite them. He wore a broad-brimmed blue hat with a big white feather. A shock of green hair burst out from underneath. He looked down at them, dressed in blue-and-green robes, a bow still held loosely in his hands.

Behind him, the black armored puppets massed. They stood there unharmed, totally uninjured by Roderick’s tantrum. They’d been thrown around, but they’d taken no damage.

“Who are you?” Ike demanded.

The man took the hat off his head and bowed, flourishing it all the way down. “I am naught but a travelling salesman. You might call me Llewyn.”

“You’re the one who sold him the puppets? Or rather, the equipment to make the puppets?” Ike guessed.

Llewyn straightened up. He planted his hat back on his head and smiled. “The action is correct, but you have misattributed for whom I did it.”

“Right. The New Republic was triggered by something. Clarina gave us that quartz that compelled us to look away from here. It was her parents who asked for the puppets—the black puppets, who need to be fueled by the flesh and blood of mages. And then, after Roderick took over, you sold him the large puppet,” Ike guessed.

Llewyn’s smile widened. He gave Ike a small bow.

“But wait, if that’s the case… why continue making the puppets? Isn’t that what he protested against to create the New Republic?”

Llewyn tutted. “Puppets are such a useful thing, though. And the New Republic has many enemies to kill, just as the old kingdom did. If they’re going to execute traitors and dissidents anyways, why not create more puppets? Ah, it’s righteous, now! The puppets are made from the enemies of the New Republic, for the sake of the New Republic!”

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“What a twisted way of thinking,” Ike murmured.

“Honestly. Humans are wild,” Wisp agreed.

That still doesn’t answer why Clarina’s parents acquired the puppets in the first place, but that’s a question for later. Ike narrowed his eyes. He drew his sword and leveled it at Llewyn. “What’s your connection to Lord Brightbriar?”

“A salesman never reveals the identity of his clients,” Llewyn said smoothly.

“Are you a salesman, or a creator?” Ike asked. I thought Lord Brightbriar was the one making the puppets, but I’ve never seen anyone actually make a puppet. I guess he could have just bought them.

But then, Rosamund…

Llewyn laughed. He waved the black armors away. They trooped toward the walls. “What do I owe you, that I must answer?”

“Nothing, I suppose.” Ike narrowed his eyes. “But I won’t let you leave here until I know.”

“Oh?” Llewyn’s aura suddenly changed. Until that moment, Ike had barely been able to sense it. He’d gauged Llewyn as Rank 1, maybe low Rank 2. Then aura slammed into him. The weight of Llewyn’s strength pressed on his shoulders. He almost dropped to his knees. If he hadn’t reinforced his body earlier, he would have.

Llewyn raised his brows. “Interesting.” He backed away, swishing a blue cape. “Keep growing like that, boy, and you might stand a chance.”

“You aren’t… going… anywhere!” Ike stomped forward, fighting Llewyn’s pressure.

“But I think you’ll find I’ve already gone.” Llewyn swished his cape again. It swirled around him, hiding his whole body. The fabric spun in a circle, growing smaller as it spun, until it vanished. Not a scrap of fabric nor Llewyn remained.

Ike glowered. “Dammit.”

“Hey, Ike? Where’d the black-armored things go?” Wisp asked.

Ike startled. He looked around. He’d been focused on Llewyn, but now that she’d drawn it to his attention, the black armored puppets were completely gone. “What the hell?”

“I don’t know. He must have sent them somewhere while we were distracted.” Wisp grimaced. “I don’t like that guy having an army full of puppets.”

“No. Me neither.” Ike sheathed his sword and put a hand on his chin to think. Llewyn had sold this town puppets, and they’d converted their citizens into the armored puppets. Now Llewyn had the puppets. He grimaced. “I can’t help but feel like this town was dancing in the palm of Llewyn’s hand, start to finish.”

“Yeah. It’s a gross feeling, isn’t it? Being manipulated by someone else. Makes me want to kick this Llewyn guy in the nuts.” Wisp walked away. She poked around the walls of the room, searching for something.

Ike followed her lead. He checked the opposite side. It was possible that the black armors had simply funneled into some hidden room here, but given the way Llewyn had vanished, he probably had a way to vanish the puppets as well. As he searched the walls, he frowned. Llewyn was clearly related to the puppets in some way. He’d introduced himself as a salesman. Was that all he was? An agent of Lord Brightbriar?

Or was his initial guess of Lord Brightbriar as the puppets’ creator incorrect? Had he simply purchased a high-end puppet from Llewyn, and the creator was either Llewyn or someone Ike hadn’t met yet?

But Rosamund is so real. And I know he pulled a second Rosamund easily out of the Abyss. If he had simply bought a copy of his beloved daughter, would he really buy enough copies to be able to easily pull out a replica? Pull out a replica with so little worry, in fact, that he didn’t even search for the one who destroyed the original?

No. Lord Brightbriar is definitely deeply involved in the puppet-making. If he isn’t the puppet-maker himself, then the puppet-maker is under his thumb to the point that he can be considered an agent of Lord Brightbriar. Thus, I’m going to go ahead and assume that Llewyn is also an agent of Lord Brightbriar. I don’t think this is enough to change Lord Brightbriar as the mastermind of… whatever scheme he’s building with these puppets.

Armies of puppets. Other towns, converting their mages to puppets. Ike gnawed his lip, then scowled. It wasn’t a pretty picture. He imagined the plains, again, the mountains marching off to the king’s imposing peak. In his mind’s eye, each of the smaller mountains changed from thriving metropolises to cold, empty peaks, laden with puppets.

And all of them pointing in the same direction. Toward the king’s stronghold.

I don’t know much about the king, but based on the total neglect Lord Brightbriar showed us slumrats? I don’t think he deserves to rule this region. No—I don’t want him to rule this region. I’m going to stop him. If I have to ally with the king or unite the disparate cities together, I’m going to keep him from taking over. Ike clenched his fist, determined.

But first, I’ve got some research to do.

“Over here, Ike. I found something!” Wisp called.

Ike turned. He jogged over. “What is it?”

She nodded at the wall behind her. All the other walls were clad in metal. This one alone remained bare stone. “Check this out.”