“So. No exits other than the door they shuffled us through.”
Frank tugged on the bars blocking the windows one last time, while Salem resumed their current situation.
Goreth–who finally gave them his name–snorted angrily, smacking the bars he failed to dislodge. He glanced back behind them, then nodded to himself. “Then we go through them.”
Hel’va gulped, and Salem crossed his arms and glared around at the walls.
Frank wasn't thrilled about trying to rush their way out. There were so many ways that could–and probably would–go wrong. But it wasn't all doom and gloom. He turned to Salem.
“I know they can’t kill us, but how far are they allowed to go?”
Salem shrugged, still frowning at the walls. “Enough to put us in debt with the Healer’s Guild, I bet.”
Hel’va coughed, and when Frank and Salem turned to her, she spoke. “They’re not allowed to just attack us. I think. But if we attack them, then they could arrest us. I… I don’t think they’re even allowed to keep us prisoners here… but I don’t know why nobody’s helping us out. And I’m sure they’ll have no choice but to release us once the first trial starts. I think…”
Her eyes widened as she trailed off, and Frank and Salem shared a look.
“What do you think Hel’va?” asked Salem, uncrossing his arms.
Hel’va startled, then wrung her hands together. “I think they’re keeping us here so we’re pressured to sign the contract. If we’re stuck here until the Trial starts, we miss out on everything available in the Hall. The instructors, the marketplace, finding a good team… everything.”
Ah. Smart. Shitty, but smart. They can’t directly threaten Champions into signing, and they shouldn’t have even been allowed to imprison them. And sooner or later, the mayor would be forced to let them go.
So he piles up the pressure until we crack and sign.
Wait a second…
Frank glanced around the room and at the barred windows, then his eyes landed on the door that led out of these chambers.
He narrowed his eyes.
A theory began taking shape. But if he was wrong, they’d still might need to force their way out through the guarded door and whatever else waited for them between here and the streets of Tinecea.
But if he was right… they might not need to.
----------------------------------------
The group settled on heading out in an hour or so. Enough time to rest, prepare, and try to wake the resting Champion.
In the meantime, Wilbur sat on the ground and studied a book of odd symbols, pausing from time to time to take notes or close his eyes in concentration. The others were each busy with their own thing.
Frank put his back to a wall and sat down as well, then willed his reward from the quest to show up, but not before addressing the lingering empty feeling in his chest by downing the rest of his mana potion.
I should have drunk this as soon as I had finished with the alpha. The broken arm and the adrenaline had been distracting, it seemed. But he should be more careful in the future. If another beast had showed up, he wouldn’t have been ready to deal with it.
His reserves replenished, and he nodded to himself while pocketing the empty vial.
Things could get hectic. And in that same spirit of preparation, there will be no better time for him to open his gold-pack and re-arrange the cards he had available
In response to his thoughts, the unopened pack appeared without him needing to search for it.
Neat.
The gold-pack floated in front of him, slowly rotating in the air. Frank glanced around to see if anybody else was seeing the display, but no one paid him any attention. Salem kept staring at the ceiling, back against the floor and hands clenched together with the thumbs nervously tapping each other.
Better get this over with quickly.
The pack lazily spun in front of him and when the latch finally faced him, something clicked, and the lacquered cover slowly lifted. The sound of trumpets filled his ears along with a slow and rhythmic set of percussion that only got faster as the box’s content revealed itself. And when the fanfare reached its peak, a trio of cards rose in the air, shining above the luxurious red padding of the box.
Frank grinned and began examining them. This was exciting. There was a new background color for the cards, and a new border color. A light green background for Summon-type cards, and a golden border for the Epic-rank rarity and best of all, the best card of the pack seemed to have both.
The other two cards, although most certainly useful, were definitely less exciting.
[Artemis' Bane]
Rarity: Epic
Type: Summon
Level: Adaptive
Description: A descendant of one of the most annoying companions the goddess had ever hunted with. An obnoxiously irritating hare that would attract your enemy’s ire as long as it breathed.
In the picture, the hare had a wide-eyed look on its face, with its mouth hung open, and it was the strangest hare Frank had ever seen.
Beside its bright, almost fluorescent orange fur, the thing looked to be at least as big as some of the largest dogs Frank had ever seen. If the perspective of the illustration was to scale, of course. But the most important aspect was the effect the hare should have. A distracting effect… he wondered if it was just its color that created the distracting effect or if it was magical.
In any case, one thing was clear. This will fit right in with [Quick Step] and [Viper’s Fang].
A mobility card, a weapon that should put any enemy on a timer, and now a distraction.
He was now sure that the contents were not random. Not always, at least. His early cards might have had some randomization, but it seemed that they were becoming more and more coherent as things went. Frank had little history with axes or magical missiles, and [Grasping Grass]... well, that one might be thematic. He did work as a botany teacher after his retirement.
The hare, though? That would have been pivotal against the pack of Wild Climbers.
Frank examined the card again. It wasn’t a consumable card… so was it safe to assume that the creature couldn’t die? He’ll need to make sure of that. And now that he was examining it, he saw the ‘adaptive’ tag.
What does that mean?
He checked the other cards.
[Healing Potion - Life]
Rarity: Rare
Description: A Life-type, low-grade healing potion.
Somehow, this healing potion’s description was shorter than the one he had previously used. The title was self-explanatory though… so that’s fine. But this one had some additional details he wasn’t sure he was understanding. Life-type?
I really need to find some sort of encyclopedia about magic. Maybe the book he received earlier would help. Once he got around to examining it.
And then there was the third card, which added even more questions.
[Ambrosia]
Rarity: Rare
Description: A delicacy mostly used to curry the favor of the gods.
Favor of the gods? Frank shook his head. That was a whole other can of worms he’d have to make sense of, and for now, there were more urgent questions to get answers to.
He needed to prioritize what cards to put in his Hand, so figuring out the significance of card descriptions was more important than trying to understand something as nebulous as gods and offerings.
And thankfully, he wasn’t by himself in the forest anymore. He could ask the people around him.
Frank glanced up. Wilbur was still studying his book, taking notes on a smaller leather-bound notebook, while Salem stared out the window. The Minotaur was sitting as well, eyes closed, in meditation, and Hel’va was still away, trying to wake up the last person. The other two Humans had not shown up again since the scuffle at the door.
“Do you guys mind helping me figure out some details about cards?”
Wilbur glanced excitedly and nodded. Goreth ignored him, and Salem turned away from the window and clasped his hands behind head and leaned against the wall. “Shoot.”
“What does ‘adaptive’ mean? I got it on a summoning card.”
Frank asked only about that one for now. Both the Ambrosia and Life-type of the Healing potion didn’t seem very relevant to the current situation.
“You’re kidding?”
Salem was wide-eyed while Wilbur slowly stood up. “Can you show us?”
Even Goreth stirred. Frank found him looking at him before the Minotaur closed his eyes again.
“Is it good?”
Salem paused as he thought for a moment then shrugged. “Not necessarily. It depends on the card, I guess. Adaptive cards are good in general. And they’re rare. But we won’t be able to tell for sure unless we see it,” he added with a fake-apologetic smile that Frank ignored. He didn’t know if sharing card details was taboo or not, but he didn’t see why he should be secretive. He needed any information he could get.
He glanced around the card in his vision, then looked up. “How do I show it?”
Salem and Wilbur shared a look as if Frank had just asked them if water was wet, then Salem spoke slowly. “You just do it.”
A snort came from the right, and Goreth spoke. “What the cook means is that with the Great Automaton’s interface, you can often think of something and it will respond to your will.”
Frank did as Goreth said, and he got a prompt. As soon as he confirmed, the air shimmered in front of him, and his card appeared.
The duo studied for a moment, and even Goreth leaned over to see it. After a cursory glance, he snorted, then went back to his meditation.
Salem straightened back up and clapped Frank on his shoulder before giving him the smile of a lying parent. “At least it’s an Epic-rank. Congratulations.”
Then he went back to his window without another word.
Frank repressed the desire to throw one of the small pillows at the back of the man’s head.
“It can be useful. I think?” Wilbur frowned, thinking.
“It’s a coward’s Summon.”
Goreth spoke, and Salem’s shoulder tensed. He turned back, eying the Minotaur as he rubbed the back of his neck, and Frank caught him glancing at him worryingly. But Frank shrugged at the chef.
He didn’t care about the Minotaur’s views on valor. The card seemed useful to him, and that’s all that mattered. Sure, someone with an over-inflated ego might think less of hit-and-run strategies, but Frank knew his style worked, and he wasn’t trying to be some glorious honor-bound hero. Or a knight from the old stories.
Those died quickly. Or the people around them did.
Frank shook his head and forced his muscles to relax. Not the time for that.
What mattered for now was survival. And looking for those dear to him. In fact, if Frank could sidestep this whole Trial business he just might.
“Adaptive means the more power you put in, the stronger the Summon would be. And a nicer way of saying what Goreth said is that there are more useful Summons. Whether they are mounts, war beasts, support creatures or any other. The rabbit would fall under the support category, I’d say. An efficient distraction. If you’re into that sort of thing.”
Salem seemed worried that another conflict might erupt. He might have seen the tension that entered Frank’s posture, but of course, it hadn’t been at the Minotaur.
Frank looked down at the card on his interface. It was perfect. “Thanks.”
Salem nodded then went back to his window, and Wilbur finally spoke up. “Can I study the summoning script?”
Frank looked down at the excited Suinah. Study what now?
----------------------------------------
[Viper’s Fang] shone in his hand. As soon as he touched the weapon, the connection snapped in place between them, and as he triggered the enchantment, he felt a small portion of his mana be pulled into the weapon, and the blade’s edge gained a light, moisture-like sheen.
The paralytic agent was ready.
Frank had agonized over what to have in his Hand for their grand escape. He had been running [Grasping Grass], [Hand Axe], and [Force Missile], which were the first cards he had gotten and used. But since arriving at the city and picking his new cards, he hadn’t really gotten the chance to sit down and change his Hand. And now that he did?
He had too many cards he wanted to take, and not enough slots.
In the end, he ended up going with [Viper’s Fang], [Quick Step] and [Force Missile]. He had been really tempted to take the new Summon instead of [Force Missile], or even [Grasping Grass], but [Grasping Grass] had been costly to use, and he doubted the Summon would cost any less. Plus, [Force Missiles] were cheap and versatile, while the sickle and [Quick Step] should provide both offense and mobility.
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Plus, he had an immobilizing effect with the sickle’s magic. As for the Summon…well, aside from the probable high cost of using the card–which was an assumption that might be completely wrong–they were inside the building. Tight corridors would restrict their movement, and the guards would most likely be waiting at the exits. He doubted the hare could distract them away from such a simple position.
He just didn’t see how the hare would be a better choice than any of the three cards he already selected. There was also [Floating Shield], but he wasn’t sure how he would be using that one. And all the other cards he considered felt more useful.
Might be a good card to sell…
Looking up, he felt more confident in his choice. This wasn’t going to be a stealth mission. This was a breakout. And Frank wasn’t the only one ready to fight his way out.
Goreth already had both of his hammers out, while Salem had a kitchen knife in hand. They had also finally wrenched Wilbur away from trying–and failing–to copy what he had called the “spell formula” from Frank’s new card so he could get ready.
It turned out that his card–and most others–had complicated drawings and designs hidden within them that could be revealed at will. Those were the blueprints of the card’s magic and theoretically, if one could follow their instructions, they would be able to cast the spell–or effect–without the card.
Theoretically. When Frank had asked if it was possible for him to cast the summoning spell without the card, Salem had laughed himself sick, Goreth had chuckled, and Wilbur had looked up from his copying and grinned. “We totally can. It might take a few years, but how amazing would it be to have a Summon that didn’t need a card?”
So Frank decided to aim lower. [Force Missile] or [Grasping Grass] would be easier to master. The complexity of casting a spell increases with the rank, Goreth had said. And summoning was notoriously difficult.
Frank rolled his shoulders as he paced. Hel’va had come out and said that the sleeping Champion was finally up, which was good news. He hoped she could help. Salem had said that she had been carried in bloodied and unconscious only yesterday–which worried Frank at first, until he learned of how good the healers could be–and now he suspected she also had gotten an initiation quest.
That meant that she might have a Gold-pack as well. Frank was happy with what he had gotten, but right now, he wouldn’t have said no to something with more firepower than a distracting rabbit.
He inhaled deeply, and his lips quirked-up. Nerves, really? It has been a while since–
He froze. Something rippled in the air all around him, and Frank felt his chest shudder, as if a shockwave went through his soul.
He turned, instinctively knowing the source of whatever that had been, and his eyes landed on Wilbur. A glowing circle of strange brown-gold symbols had lit up around him, making the air around shimmer and ripple.
Just looking at the odd manifestation made Frank’s skin tingle.
A moment later, a tentacle-like limb of clay slithered out of the marble floor.
Frank took a step back, and he wasn’t the only one. More limbs came out, slowly wrapping themselves around the short Suinah and within barely seconds, Wilbur completely disappeared behind a wall of clay that kept rippling and inflating with every moment.
It looked oddly disturbing. And alarming. As Frank watched the Champion disappear within what might as well be hundreds of pounds of Clay, he hoped the young Suinah had enough air.
Then the tendrils coming out of the ground were cut off, and a new set of runes lit up. The clay began to move and twist, quickly shaping itself into an armored–and very-lifelike–Suinah that was as tall as the Minotaur, and twice as wide.
Then a final set of runes lit up, and the air rippled with trapped heat. What Frank assumed to be some sort of baking process only lasted for around five seconds, then the circle of runes began fading away into motes, and a wave of hot hair spread out of the armored figure. The eyes of the clay-armor lit up, and a massive hand rose to point at the Minotaur–
–who burst out laughing? Goreth stepped forward and slapped the clay warrior on the shoulder. “A summoned Suit! You are a warrior, after all.”
The clay warrior nodded at that then slowly turned to face the door. His arms lifted, and he raised both fists in front of him in a pose that reminded Frank of classic martial arts. “I am ready.”
Frank blinked.
The voice was the same as his un-armored form. Only amplified. And spoken in an oddly deep and slow tone that was most definitely not the effect of the Suit.
Frank bit his lips in an effort to prevent his smile. Salem, though, was grinning and nodding. “I think our chances just got better.”
“You bet your ass they did. Hey, William.”
Frank froze up, then slowly turned to the new voice.
An oddly familiar voice.
A young woman was staring back at him, a wide grin on her face. And he immediately recognized her.
“...Esther?”
The green emerald eye that shone like snake scales. The short silver-blond hair. That nose and that chin.
She looked the same as she did nearly forty years ago. The last time he saw her alive.
She tilted her head back and looked left, posing. She breathed out, “The one and only.”
Then she grinned again and opened her arms. “Come on! Give me a hug.”
Frank smiled as he hugged her. They had had their differences a lifetime ago. But decades after last seeing her, he became fond of recalling the adventures and stories they got up to. “Do you remember what I told you the last time we met?” He let go, and she took a step back.
She frowned, trying to recall, then her eyes widened.
Frank nodded at that. Then pointed a finger down at her legs, and a bolt of luminescent force shot out of it.
----------------------------------------
“Yeah but why Frank though? It sounds so old!”
Frank shrugged as his old acquaintance rubbed the spot where the [Force Missile] had grazed her thigh. All in all, his reaction had been pretty mild, considering the part of his life she had been from.
He had worried that if anyone from his past were to show up, they would bring along with them some of his old unhealthy habits. That he would find himself suddenly submerged in a fog of paranoid defensiveness. He had even expected it.
It had taken him more than a year to stop jumping at shadows, once he had retired.
Still, Frank felt a bit uneasy. From the general situation, not from Esther. Without his knowledge or consent, the organizers–who somehow knew quite a lot about his old life–had picked him and enrolled him into these games. They dropped him into a forest to be attacked by beasts, then, as soon as he got to this city, he had been escorted–again, against his will–to a meeting with a mayor that literally messed with his thought process with magic. And now, there was someone from his past life. Right here, right now.
The sense of unease grew, and Frank frowned. Now that he framed it like that, it was unnerving.
He shook his head. He would deal with this thing one step at a time. Plus, he was young! There was magic, and now he had reinforcements. He looked sidelong at Esther who was stealing glances around, taking notes of everyone. Competent reinforcement.
Yeah. This doesn’t feel like a coincidence. And that worried him. Who else’s going to show up in these Trials?
He caught her eyes, and she pouted. “You hold on to grudges too long, Frankie.”
Frank rubbed his eyes. Inhale. Exhale. Focus on the task at hand. “You stabbed me in the back. I almost died.”
She raised a finger. “I stabbed you in the back of the shoulder. Not as dangerous. Definitely would not have killed you.” She waved a hand dismissively and put the other on her hip. “I barely grazed you.”
Frank’s eyebrow twitched. Maybe he should leave here, after all. “The bloodhounds tracked me because of it. I spent weeks in a Belgian prison eating moldy bread and cheese until the incident got resolved.”
“It was forever ago. Come on. We all died in the end didn’t we? Plus, that’s kinda on you for trusting me,” she shrugged. “Not as if we were working for the same team.”
Frank nodded. Fair enough. He glanced down at [Force Missile] and began raising his hand. Sensing the danger, Esther spread her hands placatingly as edged closer to Wilbur’s armored form. “I’m sorry! Alright? Come on. Let’s get a drink. My treat. Okay? Okay!”
She beamed at him and straightened up as if it was a done deal, then she gestured around. “Where are we, by the way?”
Frank sighed. Esther was a backstabbing weasel. But she was good at her job. And even though he felt a smidge of worry that his old lifestyle was inching closer and closer to who he wanted to be, he really had little choice.
No one answered her yet. He expected one of the spectating Champions–excluding Goreth, who was studying Wilbur’s summoned armor–to chime in, but they all continued acting busy, as if they weren’t obviously listening. He shook his head. “We’re in a mayor’s mansion. He wants to strong-arm us into signing some sort of sponsorship contract. Beyond that, I’m… still getting my bearings. I woke up barely a couple of hours ago. They probably know more about where we are,” he added, nodding toward the other Champions.
“That’s fine. We’re getting out of here right? We can figure out the details later.” Esther took a step away from Wilbur to take him in. “This is so cool,” she breathed as she circled the Suinah, poking at the clay armor. “What’s your name, big fella?”
Wilbur pulled his arm away from Goreth’s inquisitive hands, then the tusked helmet tilted down, eyes glowing amber. “I am Wilbur.”
Frank and Salem shared a look. Is he going to keep talking like that?
She nodded solemnly. “Nice to meet you Wilbur. Can I ride on your shoulders?”
The Suinah froze up and before he could answer, Goreth straightened up and spoke.
“If we are all ready, then we should set out.”
Esther slowly turned, then tilted her head back at the Minotaur as if she had just noticed him. She blinked once, then twice, then turned to Frank. “Are you sure we’re not high on something?”
Frank chuckled and shook his head. “I’m still asking myself the same thing. But yeah, I think this is all happening.”
She blew out her cheek for a moment, then exhaled and clapped once. “Alright then.”
Frank smiled at the perfectly relaxed smile she was sporting. But he knew better. Her eyes kept flickering around. Her movements were slow and deliberate.
She was tense. She had been since she’d arrived. Maybe it had to do with where she woke up? Then he paused as he remembered a detail mentioned earlier. Meeting her eyes, he nodded at the door. “Were they the one who injured you? When you were brought here, that is.”
She raised a brow. “No. I dragged myself to the gates of the city and passed out. Woke up in the other room for a minute then passed back out. Why?”
Frank’s theory was feeling more solid by the second. “Did you try leaving?” He looked at the others. “Did any of you?”
Salem blinked then spoke to him slowly, as if he was talking to a small child and Frank considered casting another [Force Missile], but he shouldn't be wasting mana. “There are guards in front of the door. Guards to stop us from leaving. Did you not see them?”
Frank shook his head. “Did you try, or not?”
Esther tilted her head at him for a few seconds. “Why? No wait. Let me think… Oh. Oh. That would be funny. You think they’re bluffing?”
The other champions frowned. The room was quiet for a few seconds, then the penny dropped. “Motherfuckers,” cursed Salem, stomping his foot.
Frank nodded. “Yeah. Even though the guard that led me to the mansion got threatening near the end, and even though the mayor made it seem that we don’t have a choice, at no point did anyone physically force me inside the mansion. Or through those doors,” he said, nodding toward the doors behind them. “And the mayor has some sort of mental power that made me…friendlier than I should be. I think he might have been able to get me to sign with that power, but he didn’t.”
“This is embarrassing,” growled the Minotaur. “Have we all wasted all morning here when we could have just left?”
“I arrived at dawn,” proclaimed Wilbur.
“Yesterday,” whispered Hel’va. Her cheeks were beet-red, and somehow, Salem was even more embarrassed than she was.
When the Champions turned to him, he glared back for a moment, then threw his hands up. “Shut it. I don’t want to hear it.”
Frank gently patted him on the shoulder, and said nothing.
Esther stepped forward. “Well, it should be easy to get some answers. Let’s see…”
She straightened up, brushed the tunic and pants she had been provided, then combed her hair with her hands as she strolled to the door. And before anybody could stop her, she swung the door wide-open.
----------------------------------------
The door opened and Hieron’s hand reflexively went to his truncheon as he turned to face the doorway. He gripped it for comfort, but he didn’t take it out. Their instructions were very clear about that.
Nikias still messed it up.
His baton was already out as he glared at the young women who stood before them. Hieron saw the word form on his colleague’s lips. “Ge–”
–[Officer Spell: Carry Out Orders].
Hieron’s card took effect, cutting off Nikias’ voice and preventing him from taking any actions other than what their briefing had listed. And he remembered the woman standing in front of him. She was the one that had come through the north eastern gates.
The gates that led to the cemetery.
Nikias hadn’t seen it himself, but he had heard the gossip. Two dozens of reanimated corpses, all with stab wounds through the head.
He shivered. That was the stuff of nightmares.
He peered over the woman, and when he saw the rest of the Champions standing behind her, he started typing.
I’m too slow, he thought, as he pressed the letters one by one without moving his fingers. I need to get better at this.
“Hi,” said the woman. “Do you boys mind scooting over a bit? We’d like to come out.”
Nikias stood still and, thankfully, so did Hieron. “Champions moving,” he sent to his captain.
“I’m just–going to–there.” She gently put a hand between his and Hieron’s shoulder, and at that point, they had to step away.
At no point were they allowed to physically block the Champions.
The look of surprise of the women turned into a wide grin. “I think you were right, Frankie.”
“That’s not my name.”
She stepped past them, quickly followed by said Frankie–the one who got here only a an hour or so ago–then by a tall and thin man, by the Minotaur who crouched to slip under the doorway and–
Nikias involuntarily took a step back as the massive golem shimmied itself through. No, not a golem…
“Suit-user incoming. Large. Earth. No weapons.”
A damn Suit? The other teams had their work cut out for them, that’s for sure.
----------------------------------------
A few turns, countless paintings, and seven locked doors later, the group finally had an exit in view.
Esther cursed. “I told you we should have broken through a window from one of the other rooms. They’re waiting for us.”
Frank counted the guards standing in front of a different entrance than the one he had come through earlier and frowned at the majordomo that stood in their midst. “And I told you if we start breaking things, they would use that as an excuse to keep us here.”
“What do we do?” whispered Hel’va as her eyes frantically moved back and forth between the doorway and her companions.
Goreth raised his hammers. “Rush them.”
Salem looked up with alarm. “Did you not just hear what he said? They’re waiting for us to give them a reason to use force. It’s all a bluff, and now that we know it is, they’re on Plan B. They won’t just let us waltz out of the mansion. They have a plan. I’m sure of it.”
Frank agreed. With the majordomo eying them from afar, he was pretty sure they were walking into a trap. But they had no other options. They just will have to be extra careful and not get baited by whatever the mayor’s people had prepared for them.
“We approach slowly and we play it by ear. I guess… if I say ‘banana’, then we rush them.”
“What’s a banana?” came the slow and fake-deep voice of Wilbur.
“It’s a fruit from Soleos,” said Salem as he worriedly watched the guards and the weapon they were carrying. “You can find it in big cities. It’s good with pastries. Especially in muffins.”
Esther hummed at that. And Frank had to agree. How long has it been since he’d had a good muffin? Chocolate-chip and banana muffin. Or blueberry muffins.
Focus.
The group stepped forward slowly, and when they were within twenty-feet, the majordomo spoke. “Dear guests, you are currently trespassing in areas in which you are not allowed. Please follow me back to your chambers.”
Esther stepped forward and smiled. “We thank the mayor for his invitation, but we wish to be on our way. You can escort us out to be sure we don’t trespass. We thank the mayor for his hospitality, but we’d like to leave.”
As if expecting it, the majordomo kept his face neutral and was about to speak when Esther forestalled him. “You help us be on our way, or we aren’t actually your guests, are we? As far as I know, guests are allowed to leave. Otherwise we’d be captives.”
A few guards shared a look, while the majordomo’s brows twitched for the first time since they had arrived.
He was quiet for a few seconds before he regained a small smile and nodded. “Of course. Please, follow me.”
The majordomo stepped toward them, and Frank had a thought. He raised a hand to stall the majordomo. “We’re using that exit,” he said, pointing behind the man.
“This exit is reserved for–”
The Minotaur snorted, cutting the majordomo off, and Salem took over. “We are in a rush, and we want to leave right now. There’s the exit. It will take five seconds to get us through. Please and thank you.”
“I apologize, dear guests,” said the majordomo as he shook his head, “but we have to use the exit at the front of the property, as per protocol. It will only–”
The majordomo kept droning on and on and even Frank started to get really irked. So it took him a moment to notice the smile of the guard.
Frank frowned. The smug guard whispered something to his colleagues, and they all smirked in turn. And then he heard the heavy breathing behind him.
What was happening only clicked for Frank when he felt a large hand grip his arm and move him aside as if it had been parting curtains. Goreth shoved his way forward, eyes gleaming red, jaw gnashing, as he stepped toward the guards.
“No,” Frank urged. “Goreth, they’re doing it on purpose.” Frank wanted to grab the Minotaur, but he hesitated.
The massive Beastfolk was twitching with rage. His muscles were taut, sinews almost visible, and Frank couldn’t help but notice how large the Minotaur’s fist was. Was he even in control of himself?
Then something stopped him.
The Minotaur slowly looked down at the massive brown arm barring his path. “They are right. It’s a trap,” came through the growling voice of Wilbur. And it didn’t sound deep anymore. It sounded like he wanted to charge into the trap head-first.
Everyone was getting irritated, it seemed. Being duped was reason enough for anger, but now the mayor’s people were purposefully wasting their time, and they were having fun doing it.
The words seemed to finally reach the Minotaur who started to blink and shake his head. It even seemed like the color was receding out of his eyes… when another voice reached his ear.
“Savage beasts,” said the smug guard, then spat on the ground, loud enough to be heard by everyone present.
A quiet hush fell over the scene, then the world exploded into motion.