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Diplomat Nym pulled out a sheet of parchment printed with perfect lettering. The deep elves used a printing press, though the blocky text looked more like wanted posters from the Wild West. She filled blank lines with our names and affiliations. “I confess, following Forren is your chief liability. There are many deep elf settlements with problems with encroaching Forren tunnel systems. Some claim they can hear dwarves delving into the mountain.”

Fabulosa looked at me. “I’m not giving up blessings or Slipstream on account of this.”

We were in agreement. One of Forren’s blessings, Hot Air, was Slipstream’s prerequisite, but it wasn’t clear if apostasy rendered Slipstream invalid.

Nym continued. “However, The Crystal Vein Accord makes exceptions for gem cutters, barkeeps, and bakers. Are you in any of these guilds?”

Fabulosa and I exchanged a long look before shaking our heads.

Nym flipped through a stack of oversized parchments. “No need to fear. Have you bartered open agreements with Heaven’s Falls or Fort Tilbury within the past six years?”

Again, we shook our heads.

Nym straightened. “That’s a shame. It would have simplified things. I’m afraid we must rule out a right of passage and immediate release.” She turned to a guard and spoke in a secret Deep Elf dialect the security forces used against subversives of their own kind. I knew nothing of their history, but holding Gladius under the table tipped me off. “Protocol 3b, please. I’ll stall them.”

The guard gave us a wary look and then left the room.

Fabulosa’s knuckles whitened on her blade’s hilt. I had to hand it to my partner. She could read between the lines. “What was that about?”

Nym offered an apologetic smile. “He’s running an errand to help us get sorted out. Pay it no mind.”

The tone of sincerity in her voice gave me goosebumps, and I knew Fabulosa enough to know that she would not sit still for much longer. “Perhaps it might help if I gave a complete history of our settlement—if nothing else to complete your profile on Hawkhurst.”

The suggestion piqued Nym’s interest enough to miss the fact that Fabulosa’s breath had quickened.

“We recently defeated the Emperor Veegor—almost half a legion.”

Nym nodded to note the exceptional claim. “Defeating the emperor would set you against the Shadow Weavers Guild who’s at odds with Arweald Elves—forcing us to remand you to their custody. But the Redhammers dissolved the Headwaters Trade Pact a number of months ago. The good news is our hands aren’t forced.”

“We also killed King Rezan.” Listing Hawkhurst’s achievements was risky. If the deep elves and the goblins shared an alliance, it might turn them against us. But if they warred with goblins, it might buy us some favor.

“The Bonepits? If I’m not mistaken, the Dusters and Undertoes assumed Bonepit debts to the Upper Tunnel Banks. If Hawkhurst were Bonepit adversaries, Hawkhurst citizens would be killed on sight, but luckily, the other goblin tribes have—”

“Enough!” Fabulosa slammed her palm on the table, stood, and drew her Phantom Blade. “Patch. We’re in a foreign settlement. You know what that means. I’m not gonna sit here and—”

The guard drew his short sword, and a shield appeared on his arm. The door beside him opened, and six more poured in from the hall.

I interrupted Fabulosa. “What about The Wainwrights?”

Diplomat Nym had also backed away from the table. She raised both hands, imploring everyone to still their weapons. “Wait, what did you say?”

“The Wainwrights—the guild! They’re everywhere in Miros—at least in the West. We negotiated a trade agreement with them almost a year ago.”

Nym made another gesture to keep the guards from attacking. As she spoke, she became more animated. “Hold on—wait—yes. Trade route settlements are exempt from Westmine’s Declaration of Casus Belli! The Articles of Way clearly state that citizens facilitating trade along Wainwright traffic channels cannot be impeached!”

Fabulosa watched Nym’s wide grin with tensed muscles—waiting for any false moves. She clearly didn’t understand Nym’s excitement any more than I did. She alternately pointed her weapon toward Nym, then the guards, sidestepping to optimize a position to strike. Fabulosa’s eyes widened in confusion. She turned to me. “Patchy, what in blazes does any of that mean?”

I turned to Nym, afraid to answer.

Nym clapped her hands. “It means you’re free. We have no cause for holding you, and you may go about your business.”

The guard’s shoulders slumped as they lowered their weapons. One muttered to his companions as they left the room. “I knew I shouldn’t have drawn my weapon. The bureau is so jumpy this time of year. Now we have to file incident reports.”

Nym opened and closed scrolls, finally stopping to a paragraph and pointing. “Yes. Here we go. You haven’t drawn deep elf blood, and you’re an associate of the Wainwright’s Network as defined in the terms—yes. You’re definitely free to leave. Oh! I didn’t know this—you’re eligible for membership in the Grenspur League of Commerce!” She eagerly awaited our response.

Fabulosa lowered her weapon last. “That is so tempting, Nym. Really, but if y’all could show us out of here, that would suit me just fine.”

Nym’s face fell before returning to her normally ingratiating self. “Of course, we’ve kept you here too long. Commander Nalia’s intel must have been wrong.”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that. Bircht and Duchess seemed to be very opposed to inter-alliance enterprises. Flagboi might not have been wrong about them.”

Nym nodded while she walked us out of the room. “As non-Hawkhurst officers emeritus, their fates will rest on different criteria.”

Fabulosa audibly sighed and focused on the floor as we walked, wanting to hear no more about deep elf politics.

I tested Fabulosa’s patience by asking Nym one last question. “What do you think will happen to them?”

“It’s too early to say. As citizens of different settlements, we’ll need to interview and process them separately.”

“This is a shame. I just hope you’ll be as thorough as you were with us.”

Nym handed us a scroll called a Writ of Passage that identified us as associates of the Wainwright Network. After thanking her, she passed us to a group of guards heading north for a patrol. After we told her we wanted to go to Blyeheath, she arranged for an escort to show us a shortcut through the mountain. She shook our hands before parting ways. “The guards will lead you north.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The tunnel wasn’t much to speak of besides its polished masonry, but the ceilings accommodated our height, perhaps one of the few good things we could say of our encounter with the deep elves.

After hours of winding through hallways, junctions, and lobbies, we arrived at a door fitted with glowing, colorful gems.

We marched far to leave the dot listing Bircht and Duchess on the contest map. The mitosis turned Fabulosa and me into a separate cell, one that I hoped would not split apart again. Our liberation meant I wouldn’t have to think about that horrible shrunken head hanging from Bircht’s waist.

When we stopped, the guards offered us bags with glowing amber stones, indicating we should put them over our heads.

Fabulosa shot me a look before she donned it. “They’re lucky this doesn’t mess up my hair.”

The bags not only blinded us but prevented me from using magic, stopping spells like Slipstream or Magnetism to navigate.

I heard the doors open and felt the rush of cool air. The guards marched us forward before gravel, grass, and sticks crunched beneath my feet. Hands steadied me by my shoulders, and I shuffled to maintain my footing on the uneven ground.

Thankfully, they took the hoods off after fifteen minutes of twists and turns. We stood over Grenspur’s foothills, overlooking a vast plane of fog that I knew to be Blyeheath. It was late in the day, and many clouds rolled over the landscape. At least we’d be traveling downhill tomorrow.

Fabulosa exhaled loudly, smiled, and nodded to the departing guards who wished us fair travels in their own language.

I didn’t have Gladius drawn, so I couldn’t be sure. “At least it wasn’t a goblin mine.”

Fabulosa took a deep breath of high-altitude air. “Yeah, well. I say we could have fought our way out. Bolas and nets wouldn’t work in any of those narrow hallways.”

I rubbed my eyes as they adjusted to the light. “And how would you get past that door?”

“Not my department. You’re the stone whisperer.”

“For a while, I was tempted to try an Earthquake back in the cells, but it didn’t seem smart to try underground. Besides, the range was too short to affect the prison’s jail. Those cells were enormous.”

“Earthquake, huh? It sounds like you picked a few tricks, too. That was a long haul of a dungeon. I just wish we could have knocked out Bircht and Duchess when we had the chance. Final six, baby! Do you still have the Dark Room?”

“I do indeed. Do you think it’s smart to use? The more I use it, the less likely I’ll be able to surprise anyone with it.”

“It’s your call, but being well-rested has a value on its own.”

I unwound the rope from my waist. “That’s true. Speaking of which, it’s a shame we didn’t get to rest there. Those mattresses were comfortable.”

Fabulosa hummed in agreement. “It made me miss my couch.”

I cast Detect Magic to search for Darkstep’s Improved Eyes but found nothing. The news that no one knew anything about Darkstep made me paranoid. It seemed everyone knew or had heard something about other contestants. We all started in newbie zones near other players. Had Darkstep made no friends? Had he killed everyone near him, or had he run for the hills and adopted my old log cabin strategy?

Before we retired to the Dark Room, I showed Fabulosa Gladius Cognitus.

“That’s some name. How does it work?”

I pulled out the weapon and showed her the contrail that the glowing tip made in the air. She was more impressed by his +50 damage than his linguistic enhancements. I felt a little like a boy showing off a toy or gadget to someone. “He also talks. Gladius, say ‘hi’ to my partner, Fabulosa.”

Her eyes opened at the blade’s strange vibrating voice.

“Greetings, fair Fabulosa. How are you this evening?”

Fabulosa laughed. “If that don’t beat all—you found a talking sword! He sure is a beaut. What’s your name mean?”

“My namesake harkens to my essence—a self-aware instrument of bellicosity.”

“That explains it. Can you hear Windshadow?”

“I’m afraid I cannot.”

“Well, she says you’re gorgeous. Does that little light ever go away?” Fabulosa peered into the squiggle of blue light emanating from Gladdy’s tip.

I sheathed the sword, causing the squiggle to disappear.

Fabulosa put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “That’s a hoot, Patch. When you upgrade, you really upgrade. Conga-rats to you, big time.”

I thanked her, still grinning at the praise.

Inside the Dark Room, we discussed strategies before falling asleep. It felt good to talk to someone again. Working with her released a mental pressure valve. I could bounce ideas off her without fear of being backstabbed. I told her about the adventures and battles she’d missed.

Fabulosa shook her head. “Two thousand orcs! That must have been something to see. I figured Hawkhurst would heat up, but I didn’t think it could hold its own against goblins or orc armies. C-Belle finally got her castle, then? You’re gonna make her regret she ever bailed to save my sorry skin.”

I laughed.

“No, seriously. You’re doing her proud. She’s really going to appreciate you sticking it through. If anyone is going to make her regret saving me, it’s me. I feel bad about leaving, especially after seeing all the laurels around your head.”

“Oh, come on. You followed your heart. She’ll understand. And as far as laurels, I haven’t won anything yet. You’re the one with a couple of bounties under your belt. Twenty-thousand dollars! And right under the wire before Crimson canceled their payout policy for knockouts.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get anything for Roadmachine.”

“Didn’t you knock out Sweetbread, too?”

“No, that was all Toad.”

I grunted after thinking about my lack of knockouts. “Do you want to go to Oxum with me? That letter from Darkstep intrigues me.”

“Yeah, about that. I can’t rightly say. Why do you reckon Darkstep wants you up there? It’s really out of the way. If he mentioned Yula, then he knows something about Hawkhurst. Why wouldn’t he send his letter directly? Did the orcs destroy the mailbox?”

“No, they never made it to the manor. I think it has information about Oxum, and being there will help unlock whatever advantage it contains.”

“No offense, but it doesn’t feel like a trap. Aside from your sword, you’re not the most intimidating player. You haven’t exactly racked up official kills, so why he’d want to knock you out of the game is beyond me.”

“And my skills are only on my character sheet. I might have some exotic powers, but I think you’re right. It doesn’t feel like a trap.”

“I’m surprised you want to go. You used to be so paranoid. What makes you think you can trust him?”

“I guess it’s what he said about Charitybelle. That I hadn’t enjoyed playing the game since she left.”

Fabulosa made a mock gasp. “What am I—chopped liver?”

“You know what I mean. You basically said the same thing before you left.”

“Does it feel like he’s watching you?”

“That’s just it—I don’t. I don’t have funny feelings about being spied upon. And whatever glimpses he gets through those Improved Eyes, he couldn’t possibly know that much about me. Unless he’s found a way to change his nameplate, I’ve never met him.”

“Me neither. I don’t recollect anyone speaking of Darkstep. That boy is playing it low.”

“Everything he said was truthful. It feels like whatever he tells me in Oxum is going to be trustworthy.”

“His instructions don’t make sense. If he can see you on the map, why not send you a letter after you reach Oxum? Claiming that he’s already sent one is an unnecessary bluff. You could get it in another settlement.”

“What if he hasn’t sent it yet?”

“Well, that would make him a liar, then, wouldn’t it?”

I bit my lip and thought about it. It was true. Darkstep claimed he’d already mailed me. “I dunno. If not Oxum, where do you want to go?”

“I wanna strike out for Heaven’s Falls and knock out Flagboi.”

“Could you see his level when you spied on his lab?”

Fabulosa laughed. “Patch, you worry too much. When I looked through Oliver’s eye socket, Flagboi’s nameplate didn’t appear.”

“Wait, then how do you know it’s him?”

“He was as handsome as that mug of yours—a player avatar, to be sure. And I could tell from the gnomish tools and deep elf architecture that it has to be Heaven’s Falls. That confirmed it to be Flagboi, and he has no idea I’ve seen him. You’ve gotta admit there’s a little advantage to having the drop on him. Besides, Heaven’s Falls is a foreign settlement, and it’s been too long since I’ve had Aggression’s damage bonus.”

“We get that bonus in Oxum, too.”

“Yeah, I guess. But there are no other players in Oxum. I’m tired of fighting monsters. I’ve half a mind to wait out Bircht and Duchess right here. There’s no sense in leaving them alive. I can’t believe I wanted to team up with them.”

“That might be a long wait.”

Fabulosa snorted. “You’re not wrong about that. They might off themselves to avoid listening to more deep elf rules.”

I laughed.

“I had my sights set on paying Flagboi my respects. You should come along. But if you’re fixed on chasing Darkstep’s scraps, I’ll wish you the best, and we can see each other in the final two.”

I grunted in indecision. Splitting up wasn’t a good idea.

Fabulosa feigned a yawn. “You’ll need a special mask to breathe in Blyeheath, you know. And gnomes make the best masks. Heaven’s Falls is gnome country.”

“What if Flagboi runs? He seems a little jumpy.”

“He won’t. He’s put down roots—he’s been in that lab forever. Besides, I wanna see what he’s been working on.”

I hadn’t known about unbreathable areas in Blyeheath—thoughts of suffocating rekindled memories of Bircht’s vacuum. “Let’s get masks in Heaven’s Falls. I’ll see what’s in Darkstep’s letter, and drop in on Flagboi. Then to Oxum?”

Fabulosa yawned in earnest, pulled blankets over her shoulder, and rolled over to sleep. “Deal.”