He should have seen this coming. Damnit, he should have seen this coming. In a sense, he had, and yet it still blindsided him. It wasn’t enough to have predicted this, he should have expected it.

Elzio kept his fists and mouth closed tight as the three of them left the castle. No one said anything. Only once did Elzio glance up to catch Syrene’s glance. Her lips were drawn, but her eyes were burning. When their eyes met, she nodded tersely. She wasn’t discouraged, wasn’t planning on riding this thing to her grave, which gave Elzio the faint scent of hope. Maybe they didn’t lose here.

But it wasn’t looking good. Ythrel would have five heroes, all well-trained and highly skilled. Syrene was a godsend with her years of experience and numerous levels and specialties, but she couldn’t take on a full team. This wasn’t Pyrthet. These heroes had done battle against other full-fledged nexi and lived to tell the tale. Elzio stood in the midst of their greatest achievement, the flourishing kingdom of Ythrel.

What do we do?

Echo asked the question the moment they crossed the threshold to the great courtyard out front the castle. Her voice was strained as she asked, and Elzio could sense unease in how her light fluctuated.

We can’t waste any time, he said. We have a day and a half to plan. But it’s imperative that no one hears what we have to say. Every potential trick we have up our sleeves is going to be essential.

Tricks and plans will only get us so far, as outnumbered as we are. Syrene’s thoughts were grim. Yes, Elzio can create a number of doppels of me, we can present quite the fighting force, but we have no idea what we’re up against. Most of your victory against Pyrthet could be owed to the amount of knowledge you had on your old team. We’re lacking that here.

As she spoke, Elzio’s chest grew tighter with each word. She was right. It hadn’t just been the doppels, it had been years of gathered intel. Intel that would be impossible to learn here.

Or was it?

Elzio squeezed his eyes shut, remembering the cold hallway, the hopeless look on the dissenters’ faces. The younger man specifically, who had spoken up in a vain attempt to sway his fellow counselors back to reason. Perhaps it was another fool’s errand, to hope help could be found in the heart of the enemy, but it was potentially their only way to learn more.

He opened his eyes, once again in the sunny courtyard.

“I have a plan.”

—

It was surprisingly easy to get in touch with the young counselor, which was either a testament to how desperate the man was or it was indicative that this was another trap. But what use did Ythrel have of traps here? They had by all accounts, already won. And Elzio had, by all accounts, already lost.

A gamble was all they had.

Elzio met up with him alone. Syrene and Echo returned to camp to start drafting battle plans based off the histories of Ythrel battles in the past. It was legwork they desperately needed to start, and besides, their presence would probably have turned off the councilor from meeting. He wouldn’t want a publicized meeting.

The chosen locale was a small tavern down the street from the Hall of Heroes. It still felt broadcasted to Elzio, but it was close to the castle and to the city gates, and with how little time they had, an extra hour to traverse the depths of the city could waste too much of a precious resource.

Elzio found a seat far enough removed from other patrons so as to not be overheard, but not too out of sight that they looked suspicious. While Elzio was a dead man walking, the councilor still had much to lose. Ythrel’s ultimate fall to Deluuth would put anyone not already in Deluuth’s pocket at risk, but that didn’t necessarily mean a death sentence. Elzio needed to court the man with sufficient consideration for his long-term safety.

Several long minutes past as Elzio sipped at his drink and picked at his food, not wanting to look out of place, but not hungry in the slightest. Would the man even show? Was this just an attempt to waste of his time? What paltry trick would that be?

He’d finished maybe half of his plate when a figure took the seat opposite to him. Elzio hadn’t noticed the councilor enter. In fact, it was almost difficult to recognize him in the dingy light. There were dark shadows under the man's eyes, bags that hadn’t been apparent in the great hall. He wore a hood, which cast further darkness into the creases on his face, giving his face a haunted look.

“Elzio Shilon,” he said as he sat. “Councilor Tylin. I appreciate you meeting with me.”

“The sentiment is shared, I hope.” Elzio shook Tylin’s hand as he placed down his meal. “I won’t spend too many minutes on formalities. You know why I requested an audience?”

Tylin’s face grew even graver. “If you’ve sought me out for the reasons I predict, then it was a poor use of both our times. I can’t sway their opinion any further. Rataga, she’s sewn seeds of isolation into the minds of both Danyien and the nexus for over a year. We don’t treaty with anyone. They wouldn’t have worked with you if you were representatives of the Pyrthet Nexus itself.”

“Is there any chance Rataga is a Deluuth agent?” Elzio asked. It was blunt and to the point, but time was a luxury he didn’t have. “We had one in Pyrthet, the head of our board, who would have challenged Deluuth the moment we reached level 5. Is it possible she’s been swayed by their threats and promises?”

At these words, Tylin looked both stricken and resigned. The lines on his face Elzio could now tell were not denoters of age but rather told a tale of the stress he’d been under over the past year. Tylin himself was likely not even older than Elzio.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

“That’s the conclusion I’d come to but after so long drawing lines of conspiracy only to be summarily dismissed, I don’t trust my own theories.” Tylin stirred distractedly at his food while his fingers drummed the table in agitation. “Rataga has been on the council for six years. Has she been working with them for that long?”

“Maybe. But they may have just paid her off. Promise her freedom and comfort.” Elzio sighed, barely remembering to eat his meal. They had to look natural, even if it was the last thing he felt like doing. “Thomas was. He was like a father to many of the heroes. Or, at least, so we thought. There are people out there who are not so hard to win over. With the threat of Deluuth’s seemingly imminent victory, Rataga probably assumed it was better to take their side while she still had something to gain.”

Tylin sighed. “Maybe that’s true. I can only hope… Rather it’s better to think she’s been swayed than to think they’ve had their claws in us for over half a decade. I only joined the council in the past year, and even I can tell things have been growing… amiss. Your presence is the piece that ties many shapeless ponderings together. I have my theories written down, scattered in safe places throughout the castle, but even if I gathered them now and presented them, they wouldn’t be enough. Just conjecture. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from the past year, it’s that without concrete proof, I can’t act. I still cannot change their decision. I don’t have any sufficient evidence that Rataga is working for Deluuth, and she’s far my senior. It would just be slander.”

“I’m not asking for political gain.” Elzio leaned across the table. “I need intel. I need to know who we’re going to face in that arena. What they can do, how they think, how they fight, anything you can share with us.”

Several seconds passed after this, and Elzio felt each with growing tension. He watched Tylin’s fingers tap against the table, one eye twitching towards the door. Was he going to make a break for it? Had Elzio pushed him too far? Was he going to call for help?

“All right.” Tylin’s words were so quiet that they almost didn’t seem to break the silence. His fingers maintained their same rhythm, his eyes still darted to the door, his lips still tight. “I can’t promise you anything, but I can give you a lead. In two hours, go to the Hall of Heroes. Ask to speak to Carlin. They’ll… they’ll know who you mean. Don’t introduce yourself, regardless of what happens. If Carlin comes to meet you, take it from there. If not, I’m sorry. That’s really all I can offer. I’m not in charge of heroes and if I started digging frantically now for information, it would be of little use to you and would only serve to endanger myself.”

Well, Tylin was right about that. A single councilor who wasn’t specifically in the employment of hero recruitment and training or nexus battle management really wouldn’t have had much to offer Elzio. So a lead was the best case scenario. Still, Elzio wanted to impress one last thing before he left.

“Thank you for your time,” he said, standing up. “I recognize that you’re putting yourself at risk here. Just remember, when Deluuth comes for Ythrel, you’ll be remembered among the people as one of the few who stood in their way.” Elzio paused a fraction of a second, just long enough to see the corner of Tylin’s lip lift. “And Deluuth will also remember that.”

Then Elzio turned and strode from the tavern.

—

Elzio had two hours to burn before his meeting with Carlin. There may have been time to return to the encampment, debrief Echo and Syrene on what he’d learned, but really he hadn’t learned much. If he went back and filled them in on what he might potentially learn, he would just have to undo that work when he returned with new information. So instead he spent the next two hours roaming the nearby streets of Ythrel, familiarizing himself with its people.

It was all too easy to take out his frustrations with the Ythrel councilors on the citizens of the city. Elzio had, over the past few days, noticed a growing pit of resentment within him when he thought of them—stupid people who would blindly follow their nexus to their subjugation. But those people were why he was here, who he was fighting for. And commonfolk rarely reflected the apathy or corruption of their leaders. He needed to remember what was at stake. A culture of individuals that deserved to live on without the harsh oppression of Deluuth, snuffing out every unique thing about them.

They had a dish in Ythrel, pickle fish pie. Being the only major civilization without a coastline, salted fish made up a large portion of their diet, but this delicacy rose above the others in popularity. It seemed every stall, whether it sold slippers or pitchforks or chickens also had the shopkeep’s take on pickle fish pie. Most sold ‘just a taste’ for a single half-coin, so Elzio amused himself trying them. Some of the recipes were passed down through generations, others were carefully wrought to be the finest, and some were happy accidents that turned out ‘just right.’ None tasted quite the same, and while Elzio definitely could recall his least favorite (the woman selling horse brushes had made hers far too spicy, and spice was already not something Elzio tolerated lightly in food) he couldn’t say which was his favorite. Or even if he liked the dish. But he never got tired of it, so that was something.

“New round here, yeah?” the old man behind the smoked meats shop asked. His was definitely a top contender for best pickle fish pie, which made sense given his talent with keeping meats. His sign bragged Oswald’s Smoke Shop: Finest Meats in Ythrel.

“Why do you say?” Elzio asked, as he put down another half-coin for a tankard of cold water.

“You been trying out half the pies on the street.” Oswald laughed. “It’s a sign of a tourist, sampling the sights. Always good to have folks out like you. Keeps the streets young.”

Elzio glanced down the marketplace. Many of the patrons were a fair bit older than Elzio had expected, and he turned back to the vendor. “Seems like maybe that’s in high demand?”

“Ah, well, young people build and grow, mine and hunt and farm.” Oswald wiped down his stand with a rough rag, clearing away the crumbs. “It’s us who do the selling and buying. My daughter and her two little ones keep my store well-stocked.”

“Very well.” The stall would have put many of the butcher shops back in Pyrthet to shame. “They must have quite the farm.”

Oswald laughed. “Well they own one-tenth of one at least. Big co-op. Lotta families work it and each of ‘em take their meats home to their own towns and cities. But seeing as we live in the capital, Allana’s allowed to bring home a bit more than her one-tenth, so long as she brings back the surplus coin to invest in the place. And her husband and their twins, they’re good, strong people. They put their backs into that work.”

“What a novel concept,” Elzio said. They didn’t have anything of the sort back in Pyrthet, though Pyrthet was a significantly smaller place, really only one city with a few scattered villages.

“Oh I know it. I’ve traveled about Altethia quite a bit in my day,” Oswald said. “Always thought it a waste in other places, where you’ll see a strapping lass or young lad working behind a stall. Don’t really get it, but other city’s are strange. You get that, yeah? Whereabouts are you from?”

Elzio grinned. “Not too far out, but I’ve never been to the city before. It’s certainly interesting, but I don’t think I could give up my life for it. Have a lovely day.” He backed away, bidding the man farewell before he could press into Elzio’s origins more.

Those were the people he was doing this for. Not for himself or Syrene or Echo. They could have potentially found their way without a real settled city. With their power, they could survive in the woods, find a place in the mountains to build a house. They could survive. But there were people who couldn’t, and that’s why they did this.

By the time his encounter with the meats vendor had finished, Elzio’s two hours were almost up. It was time to get back to work. It was time to visit the Hall of Heroes.