It’s nonsense. All of it. That shimmering glamor, the tyrannical mischief, the flowers, especially the flowers. The Fae are the most overrated species ever to “flitter” over the dirt that life walks on. Whimsical does not plow fields. Spectacular does not grow turnips. While good men and women, with their sweat, tears, and blood provide for the greater good of society, Fae merely entertain and arguably only entertain themselves. No amount of fancy magic can hide the undeniable fact that they are utterly useless illusionists.

----------------------------------------

“Isn’t it marvelous!” Rose exclaimed, attempting to harness her inner princess. It was anything but marvelous.

“No. No. I’m not doing this again. Not the four limbed immortal freak, not the seemingly sketchy but slightly generous immortal. I don’t want anything to do, with anything of the sort.” I rambled.

“What’re you on about now, bone snuggler? Perk up a little bit, be amazed by the wonder. We were trudging around with blood, death, and corpses. Now we’re… Now we’re going to collect some treasure.” Dren admonished me.

“Does the time at Esmeralda’s mean nothing to you, Rose? Where is your burning hatred for magic that makes you so unique?” I mustered.

“But this is something else. If your magic looked something like this then I’d be on board. Look at how pretty and eye-catching the vial of bubbling liquid is. The way it changes colors, shifting like a rainbow inside a tube!”

“There’s nothing eye-catching about it. There's deceit and evil hidden inside that thing. There’s nothing wrong with necromancy anyway, it's useful. Drab things can be pretty too. ” I argued. Although, I must admit that the vial did look sort of pleasant. A sort of pleasant that was too good to be true. A nasty sort of mana lingered from it.

Any vial sitting on a podium found inside a room with glowing purple light was always questionable.There were plenty of other vials in the room that didn’t quite draw the eye like the glowing color filled abomination. No, their dusk covered gray glass and crumbled cork stoppers weren't much to look at. The mechanical machines and gizmos that surrounded the vials had rusted long ago. Mana leaked out of most of them, each type was unique.

Rose walked forward. She reached for the vial.

“Stop! That’s a red herring!” I shouted. Rose paused. Dren took a step back.

“What is it with you and this red herring? That’s clearly not a fish.” Dren chimed in.

“Think about it, Dren. You were right that we had to solve the puzzle backwards. We aren’t at the end of the puzzle but rather the beginning and the end. This isn’t a reward, this is a test. One of those vials contained the ability to give someone mana sight. Another one of those vials is a prize of sorts. Probably, nothing good.”

“Explain. How can this place be the beginning and the end? What sort of pretentious wizardry bullshit is that?” Dren asked.

“Well, this tunnel was carved out by a wizard. We know that. It stands to reason they’d think like a wizard.”

“Very true. Klopthjir the Tyrant was a part time wizard, that’s how he accidentally ended up as a monkey hat. He showed me memories of him licking goat armpits. That’s just what wizards do, isn’t it.”

“Licking armpits?”

“Yeah, licking armpits.”

“I’ve never licked goat armpits. That’s odd.” I insisted. The look on Dren’s face insisted that he didn’t believe me.

“Guess you’re not a mighty wizard then. Don’t worry your secret's safe with me.”

“Anyways, even if you’re right about the pretty vial, Arthur, how do you suppose we pick the right vial?” Rose chimed in.

“We should just leave it. Curiosity is the leading cause of death in dungeon exploring. Doubly so, in maniac created puzzles,”I said. That was what a second rate Druid had told me at Azog’s bar, so I figured it was the truth.

“And miss out on a once in a lifetime find?!” Dren added.

“How many once in a lifetime finds does the guards of Nosturdam have? Surely, you don’t need one more.”

“We have a lot of lives… locked up. That doesn’t mean it's worth skipping out on a good find.”

I let out a sigh.

“Fine.”

The truth was that I didn’t trust Dren. Sure, he somewhat helped during the puzzles. But that was more out of necessity than anything. I couldn’t forget how he’d thrown our lives away, just so the Church would not find out about locking up a not so holy man. He may not have been Klopthjir the Tyrant, but he was a filthy opportunist. Filthy because he was covered in dust and bone fragments.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

The picture book held the answer to the prize. The storytelling experience was the reason for the puzzles in the first place. Why else would the story's plot be so engaging? Why else would the puzzle revolve around it?

I looked around in deep contemplation, looking for any mana signatures that could possibly be the prize. The founder of Nosturdam had watched his city become ruined as his own experiments turned on him. Perhaps, this the answer of the puzzle had something to with preventing inobedience. There was a mana leaking out of one of the disclosed vials that felt constricting, almost as if you’d lose free will if you drank it. It seemed logical that this would be the answer to the puzzle, but I doubted that this was the answer.

I could not fathom a wizard who was this passionate, would want to turn the world into mindless followers. Alric had plenty of those, and they lacked personality, they lacked functionality. Someone who showcased a desire to learn the secrets of magic, would not want to stifle the free thinking of others.

By now, I had come to realize that the Dark One could have possibly created this sanctuary, deep below the city of Nosturdam. No where else had I seen the purple glowing walls, nor the implicit desire to spread knowledge. Maybe this was his origin, here in this ancient city.

“Hey, could you stop staring at the wall you lunatic?” Dren asked.

“Ermph.” I mumbled, as I jolted out of my daydream.

“Ermph, doesn’t solve puzzles. That’s what your stinky wizard brain does.”

“I figured it out,” I lied.

Dren rubbed his hands. Rose let out a hooray.

The vial that we’re after, can be found in the corner over yonder.” I said, as I pointed at the vial with the constriction mana.

“What does it do?” Dren asked.

“It gives the drinker clarity of the mind.” I said. I marched to the vial and pocketed it.

“We’ll figure out what to do with it once we leave,” I suggested.

“Sounds fair to me,” Rose said.

While Dren didn’t look as enthusiastic, he did nod in agreement.

On close inspection of the walls, there was a metal ladder clung on to the stone exterior. As most ladders do, it led upwards. Climbing said ladder was long and hardly fun, but eventually Rose reached the top. She pushed on what looked like a sewer vent. It opened surprisingly easily, for an ancient grate. After a slightly longer amount of time, eventually Dren and I pulled ourselves up the ladder.

Above the ladder, we found ourselves in an old dried out sewer. It was an outdated sewer that had been replaced with a new shinier, less obsolete sewer ten blocks north. The dried out water bed smelled a little but years of neglect had turned the sewer into no more than a glorified cave.

The first thing I noticed was the three tiny men, standing past a sign, right outside a broken sewer grate. These men were so tiny, in fact, that you’d probably assume that they were dwarves. You’d be mistaken, of course, since they were actually gnomes.

Three Gnomes. Ten elite soldiers. Four priests. Two messengers. And a gloomy looking executioner. They stood disapprovingly, tapping their feet in boredom.

“Shit.” I said.

“Shit is right. You three little muskrats have found yourselves, digging where you don’t belong.” Said the smallest of the three gnomes. He had a large nose, larger nose hairs, and a large black hat. He twiddled his leather suspenders, which were all the rage wherever gnomes gathered. It screamed sophistication and classiness that other races could only aspire to be like.

“And who in all that is holy are you?” Rose snapped back. She pointed with her crooked finger more like a village witch than a princess.

“I’m Rasctifus Borbus, attorney at law. No one litigates their opponents to the death better than I.” said the rather sophisticated gnome.

“Well, I can’t read that well. So try litigating me to death.” I clapped back.

“It’ll take a little more than your poor grammar and slow reading ability to nullify my laws. I’m afraid this is where the road meets the pavement as they say. You three are trapped. The moment you step onto the other side of that line you might as well have been shot by Grand Magus Bolt.” said the Gnome, as he did a little jig for stylistic effect.

“Then we won’t!” shouted Rose. “You’ll wait here until your stupid little feet grow sore!”

“Woah, not cool, Rose. You’d say that to a sophisticated gnome?” Dren added unhelpfully.

“You don’t think I’ve thought of that. Bring out the prisoner!” bellowed the gnome.

The guards parted. Behind them Azog sat on his knees, chains adorned his wrists. Fancy magic runes were carved into shackles. His ragged clothing and messy hair, showed how missing his greatsword was affecting him emotionally. I couldn’t quite tell from a distance, but I swore I saw a tear run down his face.

“Say it!” Mr. Borbus commanded Azog.

“Step away from that naughty place. It’s time to turn yourselves in. Or else face an even worse contractual obligation then this speech that I am forced to say. Yes, even this word right here is a part of that speech. Truly, Mr. Borbus is powerful, wise and a distinguished gnome.” Azog monologued.

Rose turned to me.

“I don’t think he means that. I think it's the inflection or something.” she said rather loudly.

“Yeah, Azog would never say the word naughty. I didn’t even hear one Aye or Listen here. How do we even know that Azog is in front of us?”

The executioner with his very menacing ax, tapped on the small gnome's shoulder. He bent down and whispered something into the little gnome's ear.

The gnome sneered at the big man with the big ax.

“We won’t have to resort to your barbaric methods, Charles. The law will come out on top eventually. It’s just a matter of time until they come to their senses.”

Charles hunched over a little bit and dropped his ax into the mud. Ever since the lawyers had taken hold, he’d become no more than a glorified figurehead. It was difficult for him to stand tall, when he knew his days of lopping off heads had ended long ago.