The muddy road had long given way to pavements of cobblestone and tar when the quartet of weary travels moseyed into Faria Junction. Their arrival was just in time to witness the aftermath of a bustling market day. Kate’s arms had grown steadily more exhausted from the weight of the chest. She continually rejected offers of help from Arb or Jibkup, feeling that this task was her’s alone—ensuring safe delivery necessitated that she alone bear the burden of the chest.

The outskirts of the Junction were marked by an industrial district of mostly warehouses which in turn backed up to a network of canals.

The canals ran from the Rascal River in the west to the Longtrout River in the east. These waterways allowed for barges to start their journey at the ports of Old Marianna and Fishtown, bringing imports as far as the high country of Wildnook and the glittering halls of the Sanctum. To accommodate the commotion of boat traffic the Junction operated hundreds of wood bridges that could swing up and away at any given moment. It was like nothing Kate had ever seen before.

On the streets, teams of plumeclaws drew farmers’ wagons from the market square. The massive flightless birds heaved in rows of two and four, occasionally letting out a powerful caw in response to the snap of a coach driver’s whip. They were stout draft animals, still a ubiquitous fixture of pastoral life in those times. A half-mile caravan of these smallholders slowly made their way through the rough-paved streets. The measured sound of trotting was echoed by the voices of quarrelsome milkmaids, half-drunken fish-mongers, and relentless peddlers of wares: sundry and strange.

Smaller, leaner breeds of the plumeclaws called klucklucks—capable of covering seventy miles in a given day—had been the premiere mode of transportation from time immemorial—until the Rattlers and their trains came to the forefront of Valerian society.

The three-story railroad station stood prominently at the center of town—backed by a sprawling train yard and an imposing, granite office building. The four of them marveled at the system of wyes which allowed for traffic to switch from one direction to another. Faster moving trains could pass older engines, even turn around, all without the need for stoppage.

Faria Junction was the hub of it all. Whether by rail, boat, or bird, the city of the plains was port of call for stock traders, transcontinental travelers, and upstart entrepreneurs. No small number of smugglers and refugees also made their home at the Junction. If you needed to get anywhere in Valenaria, then Faria Junction held the ticket.

Some of the merchants were still boarding the openings of their semi-permanent stalls or loading unsold goods back into carts when Kate spotted a familiar face.

Under the awning of a red-brick rowhouse stood a robust-looking Crafter, of perhaps sixty years, stacking books into piles and bringing them from the street to a basement-level storage of room.

“Bren!” cried Kate.

She recognized her old school teacher without a moment’s hesitation. She, Toby, and all the other Crafter children had spent the formative years of their youth learning arithmetic, literature, and the natural sciences under Bren’s tutelage. He retired from teaching some time ago and moved to the Junction to set up shop as a bookseller, but no one had heard much from him in the intervening years. Kate remembered him for his ferocious scolding and the gentleness of his instruction in the classroom.

“Who is that? Kate Redrock! I’ll be darned. What you doing out here?”

“Travelling on business for the forge.” Kate set the chest down to rest her arms for a moment.

“And where’s Cash? Red-money himself somewhere in this commotion? Lose him at the Bottomless Flagon?”

“Dad’s not with me, he’s back at the forge with Toby and Mom.”

“I see. He sure sent you out with a strange entourage. Is that an imp?”

Jibkup made an almost-sinister gesture of confirmation, raising his eyebrows as a sort of ‘hello.’

“Dad didn’t send me with these guys. They were with me when the train was attacked. Well, at least Hela and Arb were. Jibkup is a new addition to our group.”

“That thing has a name?!”

“Hey, fella. No need to rude,” said the imp.

“And he talks?!”

“Yeah, yeah he talks. Sometimes too much,” said Hela. Arb couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

“Arb, Hela, Jib, meet Bren Makenty, old schoolmaster of the Ashvale Youth Academy.”

“Wait… Kate, you were on the train carrying Luca Xeshi? The papers are all saying there were no survivors.” Hela’s eyes drifted down and away, where they met with Jib’s oddly-comforting gaze. “You need to go immediately to the Guild Office and make a report of what happened that night. Are there other survivors?”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Makenty. I am Arbuck Miz of the Uz Elder Council,” interjected Arb. “We’ll make a full report of the attack in the morning but tonight we’re in dire need of food and rest.”

“A Frognari councilman?!… I’m just closing up for the day. You’re all more than welcome to stay with me. I don’t have enough beds for everyone, but I have a sofa and plenty of extra blankets. Please, I’m at your service. You can make yourself at home. I’ll make a call to the butcher and have a..”

“We appreciate the offer, but we wouldn’t want to impose,” said Arb. “Besides, after trudging through hill country for the past week, we all deserve a nice, soft night’s sleep in a proper bed.”

“Let me at least buy you all dinner.”

“I have good standing with the innkeeper at the Willow Ridge Inn, so if vacancies permit, we’ll stay there and sup in the tavern sometime after eight. Come and join us but leave your wallet at home.”

“The Willow Ridge, eh? Alright. I’ll look for you in the tavern hall.”

Arb pointed to the high roof of the inn someways in the distance, and signaled for the four of them to start moving again. Kate bent down to grab the chest from the ground and noticed that Bren had an assortment of pulp novels mixed-in with the more academic texts.

“Bren? You wouldn’t happen to have any copies of Ilsa, The Unflappable Sailor Girl? I lost mine on the train.”

“Just volumes two and seven.”

“I’m looking for Volume 3, never mind.”

“Can’t help you there. But here, if you’re looking for something to read, I’d recommend this. Might come in handy on your travels.” Bren handed Kate a copy of Hildegard’s Traveler’s Guide to the Valerian Territories. “It’s a little elven-centric, but it will fill you in on the unwritten laws of the Valeria.”

“What do I owe you?”

“No charge, Kate. I’ll be over at the Willow Ridge just as soon as I’m packed up here. I want to know all about your trip from Ashvale and how you made it out of the goblin raid.” Kate tucked the book in her dress pocket and retrieved the chest from the ground.

“We’ll see you in a bit then,” she said to her old schoolmaster, who had picked up the pace of his work, eager to learn what adventures his old pupil had gotten into.

The foursome continued down the narrow lane to the thatched exterior of the Willow Ridge Inn. As they entered their senses were enticed by the clank of pot-lids and smell of fresh linens. Traders and travelers crowded the busy lobby, trying to get a room. Immediately upon seeing Arb, however, the troll innkeeper shuffled through the crowd to meet him. He was a jovial sort, with a remarkable physical stature, standing well over seven feet tall and practically half as wide.

“Arquebus! Welcome, back friend. What can this tired, old troll do for such an honored guest?”

The hotel was nearly booked-up, but Arb was able to negotiate a suite for the girls, while reluctantly agreeing to a glorified closet for Jib and himself.

“The suite’s going to be fifteen guilders per night and the closet—I mean—economy room, that’ll be half-a-guilder,” said the innkeeper.

“You can bill it to the account, Sieg,” replied Arb.

“Of course, oh and don’t mind the maid. She’ll need to stop by your room to change at some point. It’s usually her quarters, but tonight it’s the kluckkluck stables for that one.”

“Some way to treat the poor girl, isn’t she your niece?”

“Yes, and she’s a good woman. So, no funny business!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” burped Jib from the height of the troll’s knees.

The innkeeper let out a hearty guffaw. “And where, might I inquire, did you pick up this creature?”

“That, Sieg, is a long story, best saved for another day.”

“Fair enough, friend. Here’s the keys. The ladies’ suite is just up the stairs and on the left—first room, you can’t miss it. To get to the other room you need to go all the way down the hall and make a left. You’ll see a door that leads to the back stairs, follow them down to the cellar, and your room is the second one on the right. Just let me know if you have any luggage, and I’ll have one of the porters carry it to your rooms.”

“I’m travelling light these days.”

“Very good. The tavern will be serving food until midnight, although we’re running low on some of the entrees. I’d get down there soon if you expect to see a menu.”

“Thanks for the head’s up. Ladies, Imp, let’s see the best rooms Frognari credit can buy.”

The party ascended the grand staircase of the hotel to the second floor landing. There was eruption of hubbub from the would-be lodgers as Sieg, the troll innkeeper, made the announcement that all rooms had been booked, and that he had absolutely no vacancies for the night. There were other inns in Faria Junction and the crowd slowly dissipated from the reception area.

Arb opened the door to the suite, making sure everything was in order before handing Kate the key. He showed them how to work the gaslit sconces and warned them that it was very important to put out the lamps before heading to sleep.

Kate placed the chest under one of the broad bay-windows that looked over the market square. She could see the last of the merchants loading tents and tables into the backs of their plumeclaw carts.

“We could all use a change of clothes at this point,” he indicated, gesturing to the their mud-stained outfits. “Jib and I will try to catch the outfitters before they’re closed for the night. We shouldn’t be more than hour, then we can all tidy up before heading down to eat. If you get hungry in the mean time, just give a holler to old Sieg in the lobby. He’ll make sure that you get what ever you need.”

“Do you need money for the clothes?” asked Kate.

“No, I’ve got it covered. Take ‘er easy.. We’ve all had a hell of a week. Let’s just use tonight to decompress, and we’ll get back to business in the morning.”

“Wait…You’re just going to go buy us clothes like that?” asked Hela.

“If it’s OK with you? Truly, I’m not trying to be doting. I just figured, you know, because of the smell, that it’d be an appreciated kindness.”

“But, Arb, you don’t even know what color I wear,” continued Hela.

“HA! And what color do you wear, Hela?” replied Arb.

“I was thinking a nice clover green or perhaps lapis blue. I want a plain cut dresses—the type with a traditional bodice, no corsets. Do you know how uncomfortable it is to walk in these things?” She drew back the top layer of her dress to reveal the taught article. “And another thing, I don’t need any bustle making this butt look bigger. I’m looking for a plain cut—the skirt should go to right about here,” she said indicating to just above the knee. “And the sleeves should only go a quarter way down the arm. Did you catch all of that?”

“Talk about a choosing beggar!” blurted Jib.

“That’s a tall order for seven at night, but maybe we’ll get lucky. And for you, Kate? Any particular color?”

“I’ll leave it to your discretion. You have my full faith and confidence, Arbuck Miz.”

“We’ll be on our way then. We shouldn’t be long, but if you’re not here when we return, we’ll know to look for you in the tavern.”

Arb and Jib ventured down the service stairs to assess the situation of their cramped room. Neither the Frognari nor the imp were too disconcerted by the dank of the cellar—one was accustomed to another order of magnitude of moisture, the other was accustomed to far, far worse.

Arb made sure to knock before opening the door, but there was no sign of the maid. A single-wide, iron-pipe bed and crocodile skin trunk were the only furnishings in the room.

“Not exactly a room for two,” said the imp.

“No, but maybe if we had a second blanket. Check the trunk for linens,” said Arb.

The imp opened the top of the trunk, but instead of an extra blanket he only found the vast, elephantine garments of the troll charwoman.

“I’m beginning to think we should have stayed with the school teacher,” said Arb.

Jib was incapable—even with the widest stretches of his arms—of fully inspecting the massive brassiere, but certainly not for a lack of trying.

“Put that away!” scolded Arb. “We’ll just have to ask about extra blankets at the desk when we get back. Maybe the fates will be merciful, and they’ve got a cot lying around. Let’s hit the streets, Jib, I only know of one place that stays open this late and they ought to be closing up soon, so we better hurry.”

Upstairs in the suite, Kate was appreciating how the room’s high-ceilings and timber-frame construction lended the space to a comfortable, old-world atmosphere.

Hela, meanwhile, was astonished to see the room came with both a cast-iron tub and attached water closet. Running water was as much a rare luxury in those days as gas lights and train cars.

“Look, Kate. Do you know what that is?” said Hela opening the door to the wash closet.

“Fancy, city-folk chamber pot?”

“Not just any chamber pot. Check this out!” Hela pulled the iron chain that emptied the contents of the porcelain high tank, drawing the toilet water down and into the pipes below.

“Wow! Is it magic?” exclaimed Kate.

“Not magic, they call it plumbing.”

“Might as well be magic.”

“If you think that’s exciting than check out the tub.”

Kate walked over to the tub and turned the faucet for the hot water and waited. She could hear the approaching discharge, then was bemused to see the piping hot water arrive from such a simple signal.

“I am Kate Redrock! Summoner of hot bath-water. Fear me, dirt and aching muscles, for with this power I shall banish thee for all eternity!” she laughed to herself; Hela even gave off a sort-of nervous: Ha!

It wasn’t long before a knock came at the door. It was Arb, followed by a levitating stack of boxes.

“Can I put these down now?” came the voice of Jib from somewhere behind the apparition of cardboard.

“You can place ’em over there, Jib.”

Arb didn’t see any dresses that fit Hela’s exact description. They had ones with the old-fashioned bodices, but they were navy blue and certainly not a lapiz blue. And then there were even some that had a clover green color, but the sleeves went down to the wrists, and basically the Frognari didn’t have patience for any of it, so he just bought a half-dozen dresses hoping something would suit Hela.

For Kate he did his best to guess her size—picking three pairs of trousers, suspenders, and rough linen shirts. He also bought them each neat, leather luggage bags to carry the garments.

For himself Arb purchased another pair of overalls.

And for Jib the only thing that would fit was a child’s red-striped, seersucker suit.

“Wash up and meet us down at the Tavern. Sieg said they’re running out of food, so don’t tarry too long or we’ll be back in the woods looking for rabbits.”

The imp and the Frognari bid the ladies adieu, heading down the grand staircase to coax a blanket and wash basin out of the troll innkeeper.

Hela rushed over to the tub, opening both valves to get a quick-fill.

“We better not take turns if we’re going to make it in time for supper,” said Hela.

“I’m inclined to agree,” said Kate.

Hela disrobed in a flash, revealing a crescent shaped birthmark on the small of her back, and hopped into the warm water.

In an arm’s reach of the tub sat a brass bath cart on caster wheels. Kate spotted a bottle of Miss Millie’s Miraculous Rose-Water Liquid Cleanser and poured it into the steaming water, before getting undressed herself. The soap created a thick, decadent layer of froth. She slid into the the hot water with Hela. And the two of them, taking sponges from the cart, proceeded to wash off a week’s worth of dirt and grime.

When all was said and done, there was a prominent ring of icky filth left on the wall of the tub, but the women were already too busy drying off to notice.

“Just look at all these dresses,” gushed Hela. “That old geezer sure knows how to show a girl a good time.” Then a pang of sadness came over her—a pressing sorrow that one might identify as survivor’s guilt.

Kate opened the boxes set out for her and pulled the khaki trousers from the boxes.

“Whoa! He got you man clothes? Oh, you’re lucky. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“They’re… interesting?”

“Well try them on. You know they’re more comfortable than anything that us girls wear.”

The pair of women didn’t delay in putting on the clothes. After getting the trousers, shirt, and suspenders all set, Kate used the tub to clear the dirt off her boots and strapped the belt with her guns around her waist.

“You’re bringing guns to dinner?” asked Hela, who had settled on the navy blue dress.

“Can never be too careful,” said Kate. ‘Did I really just say that?’ she thought. Before last week, she had barely seen a gun let alone shot one. Now she wasn’t comfortable without one?

Kate helped Hela tie the bodice, and the two of them were ready to eat.

They descended the grand staircase once more. Nobody waited in that lobby now, except for the troll innkeeper, lazily thumbing through a factory catalog from behind the check-in counter.

“Looking beautiful, ladies,” said Sieg, “Arquebus and you’re imp friend are waiting for you in the tavern. Just through those double doors.”

Hela curtseyed, saying, “Thank you kindly,” as the pair made their way through the stained-glass entryway of the tavern.

The tavern at The Willow Ridge overflowed with aromas of spiced meats and spilt ales. From a huddled corner near the fire, a quartet of string-players performed a repertoire of jigs and shanties. Joyous cries of jubilation bounced across the packed dinning area where elves, trolls, gnomes, and goblins joined in the music making by adding their own bawdy verses to the mix.

Arb and Jib were already devouring a loaf of Ifindi sweet bread, with Bren sitting next to them around the wide, oak table. the schoolmaster was apparently enraptured by some discussion of Frognari politics.

“Ladies,” shouted Jib, “Over here!”

“Wow and look at you. Ya’ clean up nice for a little devil,” said Hela.

“Hey, I’m an imp, not a devil. There’s a difference you know,” replied Jibkup.

The men shuffled their chairs to make room. Kate sat next to Bren towards one corner, whereas Hela sat between Jib with Arb on the opposite side.

“So, you’re one of the elder counselors of Uz. I’m correct in understanding that there’s only seven seats? Which one are you?” asked Bren.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“I’m the Watchmen.” replied Arb.

“Oh, are you like Frognari royalty?” asked Hela.

“There’s no nobles in Frognari society, you dope!” cried Jibkup.

“That’s right. We’re a collectivist society. As far as I’m concerned no Frognari is more important than any other. Crafters have a similar outlook, do they not?” asked Arb.

“After a fashion, yes. We’re a sort-of micro-federation, families are the fundamental unit of Crafter society, and decision making for the Ashvale is done through referendum—one vote per family,” said Bren.

Just then a pair of goblin youths, a boy and girl, who couldn’t have been older then sixteen years of age, came into the tavern. Their clothes were worn-through and their atrophied frames showed the sure-signs of malnutrition. They pleaded with one of the bar maids before being shown to a table adjacent to the party. Arb and Jib took note of the two, while the others continued to ponder Arb’s peculiar history.

“Tell me why an elder councilman goes around riding coach and sleeping in hotel basements?” probed Kate.

“In this life, I’ve learned never to take more than I need, but that’s a personal decision and not indicative of my peers.” said Arb.

“Then please remind us, Councilman Miz, what exactly is the role of the Watchmen—do you command the Army?” continued Bren.

“No, that’s our Marshall.”

“You watch the finances, then?”

“No, that would be our Treasurer.”

“Then you’re the spiritual leader, a watcher of souls?”

“Our Arch-druid.”

“I give up!”

“The Watchman is essentially an information specialist. I watch the world outside of Uz, and relay the information back to homeland. Only when we have an understanding of the global situation and can we make informed policy decisions.”

“You are a spy!” gasped Kate.

Arb pulled their attentions low and close to the table. Speaking in a hushed tone, “I’m not a spy, Kate. I’m an information specialist.”

“What is your business in the Junction?” Kate continued to probe.

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Luca Xeshi!” exclaimed Bren.

“No, my current search is not part of official business. It’s a personal matter.”

“Perhaps we should change the subject?” added Bren. “Kate, seems like you have a story all your own. What’s this business Cash has you coming all the way out here for?”

Kate pulled one of the guns from its holster and plopped it on the table just as the bar maid—almost dainty for a troll—came to take their dinner orders.

“I’m sorry, Miss, we don’t permit weapons in the tavern. I’ll have to keep this behind the bar until you’re done eating.” She snatched up the revolver with a frantic energy of someone who’d seen one too many bar fights gone ugly. “I see you’ve got another. Come on make with it if you want to eat tonight.”

Kate removed the other holster without protest and passed it to the woman. “Sorry, didn’t know the policy. Won’t happen again.”

“That’s alright, now what’ll it be?”

The five of them placed their orders and the bar maid scuttled along, making sure to choose a secure spot below the bar to stash the two pistols.

“Kate!” scolded Bren, “I can’t believe my eyes. You would bring a gun to dinner among friends?”

“You asked about my business, well, those are the business.”

“You mean to tell me that Cassius fancies himself a gun-maker? Were you grandfather alive to see this. And what does June think?”

“Mom? Probably not thrilled, but I didn’t stick around long enough to get her full perspective on the matter,” said Kate, “I’m on a mission, Mr. Makenty. Back in our suite, I’ve got six more prototypes and the full designs of the guns. Dad sent me to secure an ongoing provisions contract with the Sanctum Guard. That’s why I’m out here.”

“Good heavens! You’d be a mere child in the endless chaos of the vipers’ den.”

Why do people keep saying nonsense like this?

A well-dressed Digger then approached the party, he leaned over towards Arb and began to whisper, so very quietly that only the Frognari could hear him over the loud noise of the music. Kate thought she could see the faint glimmer of an ax head from the corner of the man’s suit jacket, but she convinced herself it was nothing more than a trick of the low-lamplight and her imagination.

“I just thought you should know,” said the Digger before disappearing into the crowd.

“What was all that about?” asked Hela.

“Probably spy stuff!” said Kate.

“Definitely spy stuff!” agreed Jibkup.

“Quiet down, you fools.” added Bren, “We don’t want to draw any attention to the councilman, or by association, to ourselves.”

Jib took a deep, emptying gulp from his mug of ale, before proceeding to stand on the table and shout, “We got a spy over here. Look everyone the Frognari is here to infiltrate your bar!” No one in the room seemed to break from their own revelry or even notice the outburst. “I think we’ll be fine, old man.”

“Jib,” said Arb in a patient tone. “Please don’t ever do that again.”

“You got it, boss” said the little imp in the red seersucker suit.

“Arb, can you tell us what the Digger said just now?” asked Kate.

“I was about to before you all had to go and interrupt me.”

“Well?” said Hela.

“I don’t know if I should now. I keep trying to coax an ounce of maturity out of you all, but you keep going on like a bunch of fully-grown children. I can understand, Jibkup, over here clearly has a strong case for an excuse of arrested development, but I’d expect more from a proud Ilfindi subject and a grown Crafter woman, who apparently comes from a good family, but fate’s only know if they taught you any manners.”

“Please, please. We promise to be absolutely discrete,” pleaded Bren.

“And you, Mr. Makenty. I only told you I was a councilman, so that you’d show some deference to our cause and stop asking painful, insensitive questions about the violent attack we all experienced not but a week ago.”

“Well?” said Jib.

“Well what?” retorted Arb.

“What’d that Digger just tell you?” continued Jib.

“Harumph!” said Arb before once again pulling them close to the table and relating the information in hushed tones, “There’s been a rift between the Centaurs and the Goblins. What started as a disagreement over strategy spiraled into a full-blown ideological dispute. For now they’ve gone their separate ways. Xeshi and his ilk were last spotted ridding a team klucklucks south to Port Dag. There, he’ll probably hire a ship and try to seek refuge in either Antevalencia or the Far Reach–those being the only lands beyond the influence of the Ilfindi Empire. For the Centaurs it means that they have to restart their search for the messiah. On the surface this seems like good news. Xeshi is still loose in the world, but he’s lost a powerful ally. If we look beneath the surface, I feel there’s a lot of consequences for stability in the region. The Centaurs saw that they can successfully disrupt and destroy outlander infrastructure, given the right help. They were drawn to Xeshi for this destructive capacity. It’s likely that will seek a similar ally.”

The elf and gnomes were enthralled by the show of deduction, meanwhile Jib seemed to be turning a certain thought over in his mind.

“Xeshi and Queen Mag have had dealings in the past, mostly an exchange of Elves for certain unholy services. They met just a week before Xeshi was captured. This time was different: they were discussing an upcoming meeting with some powerful figure, they kept calling him the flea. Presumably that other meeting never happened but one thing they kept saying stands out to me, Queen Mag kept repeating it, ‘The flea will demand the blood of all gnomes,’” Jib was earnest, the others did not doubt it for an instant.

“Fascinating,” said Arb.

“Fascinating for a Frognari. Who the hell is this flea?” demanded Kate.

“I don’t know,” said Jib. “Mag and Xeshi met over a month ago. I’ve never seen the flea and I would venture to guess that neither had Queen Mag. All I can say is that they called the rendezvous point, the firepot room, but I have no idea where or what that place is.”

“Do you know this flea, oh-knowledgeable information specialist?” asked Kate.

“I’m afraid that this is all a mystery to me as well, but I promise you that my ignorance will be remedied in due course.”

The barmaid brought them their meals, and Bren gawked at the way the famished foursome tore through plate after plate of fried kluckluck and cavern shroom pie. The barmaid would come to remove the empty plates, and Kate would beckon her to bring another. Eventually she prepped a collossal platter to satiate their near-bottomless appetite.

The five of them made merry until last call, sharing more intimate tales of note. Bren informed them that he was quite contented in his life a bookseller, and felt assured that his adventures would be best provided by hardback rather than birdback. As the last call rang-out he took his leave of the party, offering again his home to Kate on any future occasion that she might travel through the Junction.

“We’ll all meet back here in the morning for breakfast, then head over to the Guild Office as Bren suggested,” said Arb. On that note, he and Jib left the tavern through a back entrance that led down to the cellar.

Kate retrieved her pistols from the bartender. Then she and Hela left the way they had came in, through the double doors, which were presently being held open for them by the pair of goblin youths they failed to notice earlier.

Downstairs Arb and Jibkup were stunned to find their little closet room was already occupied—by none other than the maid.

“Arquebus!” said the elated troll. “You’ve come to keep me warm again.”

“No! No! No! Trudy… I told you last time, I’m a married frog.”

“But, Arquebus, your wife, she’s left for years. And look you’ve brought a friend?”

“M’Lady,” said Jibcup, kissing the back of the Troll’s hand, a gesture that caused her to burst into a fit of giggles.

“I’ll just sleep on the floor. Hand me one of the pillows, would you?” barked the Frognari councilman.

“Are you sure you want to sleep on the cold, lonely floor, my Arque-boo,” said Trudy the troll.

“Positive!”

“Suit yourself, froggy-darling,” she said, tossing a pillow down to the dark corner that Arb had chosen to make his bed for the night. “Now, you, on the other hand look like a man of hot, sensual mastery.”

“M’lady, I’m well-versed in all manner of sensuality. And, as for heat, it might as well be my middle name.” At the snap of his fingers, Jib produced a burst of flame that nearly caught the quilt on fire as he slid into the bed with Trudy.

In the suite, Hela was taking another bath while Kate lay in bed reading the book that Bren had given her earlier that day:

To fully understand the culture of Bowhen Manor one must understand the relationship of the Goblin serfs vis-à-vis the Elf landholders. The inferior minds and bodies of the Goblin race require the firm hand of the more capable Elves to be made productive members of Valerian society. Left to their own devices these feeble-minded brutes would revert to a state of cannibalism and utterly depraved morality. What they give to the manor-holders in freedom, they receive back ten-fold in salvation from their innate and, otherwise incorrigible, wickedness.

“Hela,” asked Kate, “What’s a serf?”

“A serf is sort-of like a servant, I guess, except they can never leave their job, and if the lord of their manor has another job for them they must take it.”

“Why would anyone choose to be a serf then?”

“Nobody chooses to be a serf, they’re born into it the way nobles are born into their station.”

“It’s just a fancy word for a slave then?”

“You could see it that way, yes. There are differences, of course. Serfs have the right to trial in the case of a crime and their bonds are abstract not literal. A serf that leaves his or her post is likely to be punished if the lord catches them, but it’s almost unheard of rare that a serf would ever think of breaking from their station.”

“Huh, doesn’t sound like a fair system to me.”

“To the Goblins? No it’s not fair, but it’s by far an improvement compared to the oppression of the human slavers. The serfs are thankful to their new masters, because they don’t use chains or whips, only decree and edict.”

“I wonder what they’d do if they were free.”

“Well, you can keep wondering because nothing short of another war will compel the Elves to free their serfs.”

Kate continued reading for the better part of an hour while Hela soaked in the warm waters of the iron-claw tub. Slowly, the Crafter woman drifted into listless sleep, and, in the tub, Hela almost did the same.

At about half-past-midnight a shadowy figure slipped through the bay window and into the suite. With catlike movements, the intruder scooped up the chest and began for the window again. If it weren’t for the creak of a floorboard, Hela would not have noticed him at all.

Instantly, she sprung from the tub and grabbed for a pistol.

Bang!

The shot hit the burglar, with the bullet lodging itself into one of the thick beams of the timber frame. But before she could get off another shot, he was gone somewhere in the darkness of the street below.

Hela stood their: naked, soaking wet, and confused.

Kate shot up from her sleep. “What the blazes just happened?”

“We’ve been robbed. Someone came through the window and stole the chest. I was able to get a shot off, but they still got away.”

“Looks like you hit ’em,” said Kate indicating to a small pattern of blood on the floor and walls. “We’re better get Arb. He’ll know what to do.”

Hela quickly dried and threw on a turquoise-colored gown from one of the boxes. Kate threw on her boots and the two of them rushed down the grand staircase to the lobby.”

“Ladies, what is the meaning of this?” shouted Sieg, coming to the front of the counter.

“A thief came through the window of our suite. We need to find Arb. Which way is his room?” said Kate.

“Oh, good heavens, I will show you there myself.”

The innkeeper showed Kate and Hela through the bar and down into the cellar. They moved quickly through the storage room to the back hallway where Arb and Jib were staying that evening.

The vulgar sounds of foreplay could be heard from the hall. “Oh my, is that a second tail or am I imagining things?”

The green-skin of the troll began to burn brightest purple as he burst through the door of the little closet room.

“What in high heavens is going on in here!?” Sieg was livid. “Trudy! You should be sleeping with klucklucks, not phi-landering with an imp of all things.”

Kate and Hela shared a look of total confusion. Arb was in the corner pretending to be asleep, desperately trying to convince himself that this was all a bad dream.

“She’s a grown woman, fella. Let her decide what sorta’ life she wants to lead,” retorted Jib in defense of poor Trudy.

“Why you rotten little…” began Sieg.

“Jib, we don’t have time for this,” said Kate, “Someone has broke into our room and stolen the chest.”

Arb popped up and put his hands over his head in frustration. “This night just keeps getting better. Did you see which way they went?” he asked.

“No, but I was able to get a shot on them before they escaped out the window. There might be a blood trail for us to follow,” said Hela.

“Jib you got a good sense of taste?” asked Arb.

“Pretty good. Why?”

“I’ve got an idea. Let’s get moving”

“You are coming too, my dear niece. I have some questions about the sorta life you’ve began to lead. Questions your parents, god rest their souls, would appreciate me asking.”

The six of them ascended the worker’s stairs, hustling across the hotel floor to the scene of the crime. Arb led the way making sure to stop everyone at the door, so as not to disturb any evidence. He saw the splatter of blood right away and called Jib to his side.

With his index finger, Arb, pulled a drop of blood from the ground and placed it in tongue’s reach of the imp.

“Give it a lick would ya’?”

“I’m not licking that.”

“Lick the blood dammit or do you want me to pontificate on the other things you’ve licked tonight…”

Sieg grew bright purple once again.

“Alright. You’ve made your point.”

Jib closed his eyes and licked the smear of blood from Arb’s hand. He swooshed it around in his mouth a bit just to make sure that he tasted it from all angles.

“Well, what have we got? Elf, Gnome, Kobold? If I know witches, you’ve ate plenty of each over the years. So which is our thief?” asked Arb.

“Gobbo! Those kids from the tavern.”

“Dagnabbit,” said Arb, “They must’ve overheard Kate talking about the chest and waited till they thought we were all asleep to make a move. Nice work, Hela, you may have just saved Kate’s butt.”

“Just returning the favor.”

Arb pivoted to the two trolls in the hall. “Sieg, Trudy, if you were a goblin refugee living in the Junction, where would you make your hideout?” asked Arb.

“I don’t know… behind a warehouse, somewhere along the canals,” said Sieg.

“I know,” said Trudy, “You’re looking for a pair of goblin teenagers? Skinny as all heck and clothes tattered to bits? I used to bring them scraps when I worked in the tavern. They live in a shanty town where the rail yard backs up to the Longtrout canal.”

“Jib you’re with me,” said Arb, “Kate and Hela, if you don’t mind me saying so, I think you’ve both had enough action for one night. Sieg watch over the ladies…”

“No, I’m coming with.” protested Kate.

“Fine. Sieg watch over Hela and make sure nobody else comes crawling in here looking for the chest or the plans.”

“You can trust in me, Arquebus” said Sieg.

Hela and Arb checked their revolvers and with Jib in tow they headed out the front entrance of the hotel and into the street. The darkness of the city at night was only punctuated by an odd fire or candle in window.

The cobblestones were slippery with the wetness of canal fog. In the darkness Kate tripped over a rubbish pile and badly scraped her right arm.

“We don’t have time to stop now,” said Jib. He pulled a handkerchief from overalls and wrapped it around the abrasion.

Trudy’s directions were easy enough to follow and they were soon upon the ramshackle village of muddy huts.

“How do we know which one they’re in?” asked Jib.

“We’ll have to use our ears, Jib” said Arb.

Most of the huts were totally silent. A few contained the drunken fights of crossed lovers. One—particularly dilapidated—hut offered only the terse, teary-eyed, words of a young man dying.

“I’m sorry, Bria, looks like I won’t be coming with you to Antevalencia,” said the thief. “I thought that if we made it west, we’d be able to find work, but I guess that was just another dream…”

“Stop it, Gio. You’re making a big show of things. You can’t die like this. We’ll call for a doctor. You just need to hold on a little bit.”

“Too late, and besides what doctor makes house calls to these slums? Sell the guns and use the money to buy a ticket far away from this hellish place.”

There was a long silence and then only the sound of Bria sobbing. The trio outside looked at each other, unsure of how to proceed.

“I’ll go in,” said Arb.

He gently pushed open the door to the hut. As he entered, he saw that Bria had one of the revolvers trained on his skull.

“Easy there. I’m just here for those pistols and the rest of the contents of that chest. I can pay you, more than any fence, look” said Arb pointing to a coin purse that hung from his side.

“Can you buy back the life of my brother?” shrieked Bria.

“No, I can’t do that, but I promise I can help you. Help you get out of here. Help you find a better life.”

Bria screamed and threw the pistol against the wall of hut. Had it been loaded the revolver might have caused a dangerous misfire, but alas the Bria and Gio never had a chance.

Kate and Jib now stood in the doorway.

“Hey, kid,” said the imp, “I haven’t known this guy too long, but I’ve met thousands of people in my life, maybe hundreds of thousands, and not all of them were good people, but this guy, I know that you can trust him. I trust him. If he says he’ll help you, then he’s gonna find a way.”

“Alright, you want to help me?” said Bria, facing Arb, “Help me kill the Elf that murdered my brother.”

Arb sighed a deep resounding, heartbroken sigh. What do we do when there is no most right thing, only wrong things and troubled compromises?

“I’ll bring you to her. Follow us, goblin girl called Bria.”

Kate recovered the stolen items and the four of them walked the tense mile back to the Willow Ridge without a word between them. Apart from the lapping sound of slow moving water, there was nothing but the hollow silence of a tragic night.

What was going through the mind of that wily Frognari?

Back at the inn things were no less tense.

“You have to be careful with the choices you make, Trudy. I know it’s not my place. You are a grown woman, but you don’t know this imp. He’s probably eaten more trolls than he’s kissed.” In spite of appearances, Sieg was trying his darnedest to make a good guardian. He had never married or had a family, but when his sister and brother-in-law died suddenly of Acute Ogre’s Bane, he made a promise to the fates and the stars to put the life of his niece above the business and all other priorities. Trudy was four years old at the time.

“I tell you what. You want to fall in love, meet a guy? Then you can do it through the front door, not the back. Starting tomorrow this suite is your room. But only on the condition that there’s no more secret rendezvouses. Anyone coming here to call on you has to meet me first. I want to give them the full look-over.”

Just then the four others came up the grand staircase and into the suite.

“You’ve got the thief,” said Sieg with a sigh of relief.

“Not quite. Thief is dead. This here is his sister,” said Arb.

“If the thief’s dead and we’ve got the chest, what is she doing here,” asked Hela.

Bria was wondering the same thing to herself at that moment, and for the life of her she could not find an answer.

“Hela, tell us again about Torin?” asked Arb.

“My husband? The sweetest, kindest man I’ve ever known. My only friend in this god-forsaken world. And now he’s dead, stabbed to death by some fucking gobblin,” Hela hadn’t cried in over an hour, she had made the decision to stay strong for at least the rest of tonight, but the flood of memories couldn’t be stopped. “Why do you remind me of this pain?”

“And, Bria, go on, tell us about Gio.”

“My brother? The only person on this earth I could trust. He was fearless and strong. When we escaped the manor, he made sure that I always ate first, and now he’s dead because of her.”

“And if you made off with those guns, Kate here, would have lost the only thing that could possibly save her, dooming that woman to a slow, painful death. Goblin kills elf. Elf kills Goblin. When does it stop? Is there no glimmer of hope left in the world?”

The deep sadness of the evening affected Sieg in a profound way and he joined the women in booming, cacophonous bawling. The sobbing continued for some minutes, then there was a low, solemn quiet that could only be broken by that small gift of hope called forgiveness.

“I understand now why you had to do that which you did, Elf.”

“And I too know what it’s like to be trapped and desperate. You and your brother were only doing what you needed to survive. I’m so terribly sorry he is gone.”

“As am I for the loss of your husband. I forgive you for you what you have done, please forgive my people—we are all trapped and desperate.”

This whole time Sieg continued to cry and cry, waking guests and unnerving his niece.

“Uncle Sieg, it’s going to be OK. And I accept your offer, but I have a condition of my own,” said Trudy.

“Anything. You name it, my sweet niece.”

“Bria must stay here with us.”

“I’ll clean up your old room and have it made up for her at once.”

“No, I want her to stay here, in the suite, with me. Bria has lost a brother, and I cannot fill that hole. But I can be a sister. And although I myself have never had a sister, I’ve always wanted one and would dedicate myself to being a model of womanhood and virtue. Does this suit you, Bria?”

No one beside, Gio, had ever asked Bria what she wanted in life. She couldn’t make words through the choked tears, but she nodded her head. Yes. Yes. Yes.

”Then, it’s settled,” said Sieg.

The big troll gathered up all the blankets and pillows he could find and they all had a rather unlikely sleepover there in the suite of the Willow Ridge Inn. He helped Kate clean and bandage her arm, then made himself up a chair in the corner. Under the soft glow of the gas lamp Sieg spent the rest of the night reading from that old troll tome of wisdom, The Whale of Truth:

> When we are impatient and without empathy,

> we are the small waters of a desert with no place to go,

> only little things can live inside of us: insect and shrew.

>

> When we are kind and called to just actions,

> we are like the mighty river who knows the direction home,

> the housings of our souls bear the weight of many things: fish and bird.

>

> When we are forgiving and given to humility,

> we are like the ocean, a home unto others,

> and there is no limit to the things inside us: leviathan and whale

When Hela and Kate woke up the next morning, Bria and Trudy had already left the suite to start their rounds cleaning the hotel. Arb and Jib came into the room with a tray of coffees.

”Oh Kate, a little birdy told me you like cappuccinos,” said the Frognari councilman.

”How do you know that?” said an astonished Kate.

”I’m the Watchman! Now let’s get going we have to head over to the Guild office and then we’ve got a train to catch.”

The three of them made a full report of the attack to Guild management, and when they were finished the Guild officers asked Hela to stay behind to discuss the matter of her employment. Kate and Arb waited in the anteroom, while the higher-ups grilled Hela for the better part of an hour. When she finally came out Hela looked utterly distraught.

”What’s going on?” asked Kate.

”They’ve fired me,” lamented Hela, “Apparently there’s speculation that the Elves had something to do with the attack, so they’re letting go of all Elves without remittance.”

”Cheap Digger bastards,” cried Arb.

He burst into the office and nearly pulled his gun on the Guild officers. “I swear to the fates and the stars if you don’t give that girl her wages for the past two years, it’ll be… it’ll be an act war against the Frognari Nation.”

”Get out of here, frog, before you make a fool of yourself.”

”Don’t test me, Dwarves. I’ve got a very particular set of skills that you DON’T want to know more about. Give the girl her wages and we can leave it at that.” Arb gave the woodcutter’s ax at his side a nice, good pat.

The diggers looked at each other and then down at Hela’s record.

”Server girl, three years, eighty guilders. Take it and, now, please leave us the fuck alone.”

Hela was still a little shook up, but getting her lost wages felt like a little win.

”Come with me, Hela,” said Kate, “Arb won’t follow me to the citadel, so I’ll be all alone if you’re not with me.”

”You can be pretty clueless. And I guess that I’m looking for work, where else but the Sanctum.”

”Then we’ve got a deal. Five guilders a month, and I’ve got you on retainer as my personal bodyguard.”

”You don’t have that money.”

”But I will once these plans are in the hands of the Guard.”

”Alright, Kate Redrock, you’ve got a deal.”

When they got back to the hotel Arb went down to the cellar to gather his spare outfit. After cleaning up that dank room in the cellar, he made a knock on the next door down, that first door right next to the worker’s stairs. A sleep-deprived troll in his underwear came from inside.

”We’re out of here, Sieg. Thanks for everything and… good luck,” said Arb.

”See you around, Arb. It’s always a pleasure.” he replied. “Hey, any leads this time?”

”Nah, no leads, if she’s out there, it’s not on this continent. Been to every corner at this point.”

”Well, there’s also a lot of nooks too. You’ll find her, buddy. Just gotta keep looking.”

“I like to believe. Take care, Sieg”

”You too, Arb. Take care.”

The train ride to the Sanctum was mostly uneventful. Arb booked a pair of adjacent sleepers. Kate used the time to read more of Hildegard’s Traveler’s Guide to the Valerian Territories. Hela delighted in finding herself on the other side of the service bell. Arb mostly kept to himself, while Jib spent the two days making himself popular in the lounge car.

The scene at the platform was terse and filled with signs of things to come. Arb detached the holsters from his belt and gave the revolvers back to Kate’s possession.

”They’re both loaded with silver. You’ll know when to use ‘em. Good luck, Kate,” he said before turning to Hela, “Here’s an advance payment on Kate’s bodyguard retainer, sixty guilders. Use the money to find a place to stay. Look in the district on the east bank of the Longtrout, it’s not as glitzy as the inner sanctum, but you’ll be safe there.”

”Thank you, Arb,” said Hela, “I don’t know how we’ll ever be able to repay you.”

”When you’re ready to repay me, there’s an axe and an oath, until then consider it a gift. Now get going you two.”

The Crafter and the Elf made their way through the slick black streets, one with a chest of guns and schematics, the other with two leather bags of dresses and trousers.

”Well, Jib, looks like the term of your imprisonment has run its course. You’re free, buddy, don’t go burning down any buildings.”

The imp gave Arb a puzzled, almost pitiful look.

”I was hoping that I could tag along with you for a bit. Ten-thousand years with a witch, I could use a good influence after that.”

”Jib, I accept your apprenticeship into the Sacred Order of the Forest.”

“Whoa, hold on that’s not what I said. I’m a freewheeling imp, just that I don’t have much in the ways of family.”

“Get back on the train, we’re heading to Basher’s Market.”

Kate and Hela spent the night at a spendthrift hotel, and it wasn’t until two days later that Kate was able to get a meeting with the Crafter envoy to the Sanctum.

Because the meeting pertained to official Sanctum business it necessitated a visit to the Citadel, to the fountain and the caves. Kate left the chest with Hela and went on alone.

She was met at the tunnel gates by a clerk, who proceeded to lead her through a labyrinth of crystal and stone. The dizzying series of steps and turns made her uneasy. Eventually they reached a spot with a half-meter wide hole in the ground. The clerk explained that the room below was the appointed meeting place. and instructed Kate to climb down the thirty-foot, steel ladder. Every nerve in her body told her not to go, but she didn’t hesitate.

She could see an ominous red light emanating from down below.

When she reached the bottom, the ladder was pulled up and away.

It wasn’t a particularly large room, but it did have a peculiar triangular shape and against each wall burned the blood-red flame of three massive firepots.