“And I’m telling you, Vikings liked to fight with guile and subterfuge!” Richard said, as we walked down Basecrest’s busy streets. It felt like the revelry never ended, with happy drunks stumbling around on every road and boisterous laughter from every door. It felt great. Almost great enough to make me forget my hangover.

“Well, maybe Eskil’s different,” I said, thinking to all the times the brute used his raw power to overcome enemies. Even as I said the words, though, I began to doubt them.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Greg,” Richard said. “Notice how he always fought defensively? Not a single wound on that bloke. Not one! That simply does not happen when fighting an army, no matter how strong you are.”

“He baited his enemies,” I said. “Corralled them, reduced their numerical advantage.”

“More than that, mate. I even saw him making traps. Pitfalls he lured those ice soldiers into. He’s smarter than he looks. If I’m right, much smarter.”

“Then why did he never once use his Blessing?”

Richard frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He said it himself, didn’t he? He’s a Berserker. Which means he’s got something similar to Aerion. Did you ever see him go on a rampage?”

“Now that you mention it…” Richard trailed off.

“He didn’t want to lose control.” The voice came from Aerion, and was barely audible above the din of traffic. “Losing control would rob him of his ability to think.”

“Still,” I said. “Can you even imagine how strong he’d be in such a state?”

“Except, he doesn’t have you to catch him when he falls,” Richard said. “You two make a good team. I’d wager anyone with such powers needs a partner. As strong as Eskil is, he’s dead meat if he nods off in the middle of a scrap, yeah?”

“So, knowing that, he chose not to unleash his full potential,” I said, speaking my thoughts aloud. “If that's really true, then, well... He’s a good deal smarter than I thought.”

“That’s what I’m saying! Almost makes me wonder if the bravado’s just a facade.”

I shuddered. “Let’s hope not. Because if it is, and he really is that capable, he’s far more terrifying than I'm comfortable with him being.”

“Amen,” Richard said, making the cross with his hand.

“What’s that?” Aerion asked.

“Oh, just a religious thing,” Richard said awkwardly.

“I’ve never heard of Passion requiring such a ritual,” Aerion said. “Only Cunning has anything like that, to my knowledge.”

“He means back on Earth, Aerion,” I said. “It’s from an Earth religion.”

Aerion’s eyes widened, and I could almost feel Richard prepare for another speech about Earth customs… But before he could, we arrived at Sinclair’s castle…

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“Ah, yes! You’ve been expected,” an armored guard said, greeting us as we approached the main gate. “The Lord Baron has been anxiously awaiting your arrival. Though, I was to expect only two of you. May I inquire who this person is?”

“A trusted friend,” I said. “Sinclair will want to speak to him as well.”

“And you vouch for this man?”

Both Aerion and I nodded. “With our lives.”

I thought I heard a mate! from Richard behind me, but I didn’t say that just to impress the guard. It was the truth, after all.

“Very well, then,” the guard said. “This way, please!”

Rather than guiding us through the tall central hall to the audience chamber, the guard took a left, bringing us through a beautiful courtyard filled with exotic vegetation of all sorts—most of which were alien and different from any found back on Earth.

Richard and I tried not to stare as we passed.

After a few more hallways and turns, we ended up in a part of the castle compound I’d never been to.

“Baron Sinclair’s private residence,” our guard said as we approached. “Finest in the city.”

“Best protected, too,” I said. In addition to the castle walls, we’d passed through another set of inner walls to get here. “Guess he’s the most important man in the city, after all.”

The guard led us to a great set of double doors, knocked twice, and stood aside.

A maid opened the door, curtsied, and took over, leading us into the residence proper.

Tasteful, was my first impression. Followed immediately by subtle. There was no gold and silver here. No garish colors or opulent displays of wealth. But the rugs and furniture that was present was all well-made, sleek, and complimented the rooms and halls well.

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Judging by their expressions, Aerion and Richard held similar opinions.

We went up two flights of stairs to find Baron Sinclair gazing out at the city from his solarium—a room with a wall made entirely of glass squares set into a metal frame, which curved up to form the ceiling.

The elevated location gave the room a sweeping view of the rather impressive city, with the jet-black inverted pyramid of Dominion’s Trial dominating the vista.

“Milord,” the maid said. “Greg and Aerion have arrived.”

“Well met! Welcome, all of you!” Sinclair said, approaching us and giving both Aerion and me hugs. “I admit I may have jumped with joy when I heard the news. To think you two are to thank for our city’s salvation… Again.”

“Well,” I said, glancing at Richard. “Not just us. We had the help of two Champions as well. This is Richard, by the way. A dear friend of ours.”

“A pleasure,” Sinclair said, grasping Richard’s forearm. “Any friend of Greg and Aerion is a friend of mine.”

“Pleased to hear it,” Richard said with a smile.

“Now, while you undoubtedly had help, you must surely have played a key role, yes?”

“How would you know?” I asked.

“Well, for one… Do you know how the dungeon fell?”

My eyes narrowed. “And if we do?”

Sinclair’s eyes brightened. “I knew it! You were there, weren’t you! You helped bring down the core. Please, sit. You must tell me everything! May I get you some tea? Or food, perhaps?”

I smiled at the overeager Baron. He was like a child, with all of his questions.

“Maybe some tea,” I said, glancing at Aerion. “And I hope you have a few hours, because this is going to be a long story.”

Sinclair beamed. “Believe me, Greg. There is nowhere I would rather be.”

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I spent the next while telling Sinclair about our exploits, from the ambush in the forest—which Sinclair knew about, thanks to the guards we ended up sending back—to the details of the dungeon, our meeting Passion’s Champion, and all the shenanigans that ensued. To avoid Sinclair getting suspicious about my identity, I just said I was a Boonworthy. That was the story most people around town believed, anyway, so I rolled with it.

Other than Rocky, and the fact that said Champion was sitting in front of Sinclair at that very moment, I left almost nothing out.

“Incredible,” Sinclair said, leaning back in his chair as he ran his fingers through his hair. “It would seem this city owes you a great debt, then. Not only for identifying that our squads were being attacked, not only for braving the dangers of the dungeon on your own, but for working with the Champions to destroy the core…”

“Just doing what we can,” I said, neither denying our contributions nor playing them up. There was no need to; our feats stood on their own.

“I must arrange for a suitable reward. What would you like?” Sinclair asked. “Alas, were I a Viscount or higher… I could’ve granted you both titles of nobility. As it stands, the best I can do is put in a recommendation with the capital. I shall travel there personally to argue your case.”

“You’d do that?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. As surprised as I was, Aerion looked downright stricken. While I didn’t know exactly what a nobility title did, I had a few guesses.

“For the saviors of our city? Of course, I would!” Sinclair said, looking at me like I’d asked the most ridiculous question in the world.

“Well, er, that would be an honor, sir,” I said, not sure quite how to react. Luckily, Aerion swooped in and saved the day.

“While we are humbled by your offer, and while we did not delve this dungeon out of purely selfish reasons, we’d certainly appreciate more immediate benefits, that we might be better able to continue the fight against the Cataclysm monsters. That fewer innocents might perish to those vile forces.”

“Well said, Aerion,” Sinclair replied, and I had to agree. She really had a knack for bargaining. Which, of course, only made me want to learn about her history even more, but there’d be time for that. Aerion promised she’d say, and I had no doubt she would. I just had to let her find the right time.

“Let it be known that the City of Basecrest honors its saviors. As I promised before you set out, you may take your pick of the armory. Any weapon or armor, no matter the value. Take as much as you’re able to carry on your person.”

A generous offer. I wondered if spatial inventories counted toward that limit.

“Furthermore!” Sinclair said, holding up a hand when Aerion was about to speak. “You will both receive a sum of two thousand gold for your contributions. Each. Enough to live comfortably for the rest of your days… Or to buy one or two mansions in the nicest part of the city, should you wish.”

“That is… quite generous of you,” Aerion said. “We gladly acce—”

“I would wait until you’ve heard all I have to say before accepting,” Sinclair said, a twinkle in his eye.

Of course… This was Sinclair. While I respected the man, he was as sly as they came.

Aerion’s eyes narrowed. “That’s hardly fair, don’t you think?” she said. “You withheld part of our payment for assisting with the Tarquin affair, getting us to agree to delve the dungeon to obtain our full reward. Now, you seek to do the same? After we saved the city?”

While not rude, Aerion’s tone had an edge to it. It was the most angry I’d seen her get, and to be honest, I felt the same. I’d always felt like Sinclair won that round of bargaining, back when we’d spilled the beans on Tarquin. At the time, we’d both felt like we didn’t have the sort of bargaining power to argue with a Baron. But now?

“Will you at least hear my condition?” Sinclair said, his palms open.

“We’re listening.”

“Well, I understand you two disdain pomp and fanfare, but I’m afraid I can only grant you your award if you agree to appear in public. Basecrest has suffered much, and lost a great deal. It needs its heroes. It needs someone to shine light upon the nightmare that has ravaged us. May I ask this of you?”

“Oh…” I said, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. I exchanged glances with Aerion, who’s ears had turned red. “Er, of course. We’d be happy to…”

Sinclair, on the other hand, was grinning from ear to ear. As was Richard.

“Well,” the Baron said, clasping his fingers in obvious glee at his practical joke, “Now that that’s done, allow me to introduce someone.”

A tall, slender elf man wearing elegant fabric armor entered the room and nodded his head at the Baron, then at us in turn.

“Elwend is a messenger, from the capital. He has a proposal for you… Considering your penchant for travel, I believe you will be most interested in hearing it.”