Inside the Crystal Goblet’s ramshackle common room, Dalthan Sol’Magor sat sullenly on a rickety chair that creaked alarmingly each time he shifted his weight. Like the rest of the tavern’s furnishings, his seat seemed to be the product of a lazy, cross-eyed carpenter. One of the chair’s legs was noticeably longer than the other and the seat had a slant to it that threatened to spill him onto the dusty wooden floor at any moment. Dal was eager to avoid that fate considering the cracked hardwood beneath his boots looked as if it’d never seen a broom, much less felt one’s tender caress.

The table wasn’t much better. The thief had briefly leaned forward to rest his elbows on its pitted surface only to immediately flinch back as he felt the bite of no less than four different splinters eagerly sink into his skin. The smug look Zap had directed his way while he tugged the offending oak shards out of his flesh had made him reluctant to test the table a second time.

Unable to stomach the sight of Zaplixel’s amusement, Dalthan’s green eyes drifted across the spacious room. A half dozen tables were spread across the room, each one surrounded by the same shoddily crafted chairs their gracious hosts had ushered them into. Upon those tables, and spaced evenly across the walls, were some sort of oil lanterns that were, thankfully, unlit. With plenty of sunlight streaming in through the dirty glass windows decorating the front wall of the tavern, there was no reason to spark the lanterns and add even more heat to an already uncomfortably warm environment.

Thankfully, Dalthan didn’t have to worry about the press of drunken patrons adding to the room’s stifling warmth because it was utterly devoid of occupants save for his party and his cheap knock-off. There was a bartender slumped over the bar that ran along the length of one wall. Dal didn’t bother counting him though, initially because he’d thought the man dead and then, after a more careful examination, he’d determined the man to be sound asleep. For him to remain asleep after five people and a golem stomped into the tavern made the thief believe that the proprietor was magically ensorcelled. It seemed likely to be the handiwork of Drowsy.

Dal might have spent more time looking over the slumbering barkeep if his attention hadn’t been repeatedly drawn back to Sebastian Lutri, the [Doppelganger]. Initially, he’d thought the spy to be his exact replica. Further scrutiny, however, allowed him to find a few key details that certainly separated this pompous fake from the genuine article.

“My nose isn’t that big,” Dalthan muttered to himself as he grumpily watched Sylvia and Sebastian brazenly flirt on the other side of the table. “His eyes aren’t even green. They’re hazel.”

Everyone else seemed to be hanging on the [Spy]’s every word. Everyone except Shale. The [Stone Golem] was standing off to the side and it shifted slightly at Dal’s words. The thief was certain he saw the golem tip its pumpkin-sized head a fraction of an inch in acknowledgment. The gesture sent a wave of relief rolling through him. Shale saw it too. He knew he didn’t have a nose that big.

Dal turned toward his cheap imitation; his lips pursed in a thin line of distaste. “I hope your other disguises are more convincing than that one. Anyone who knows me would be able to tell the difference between us.”

“I think it’s amazing, Dalthan,” Keysha said, arching one eyebrow as she directed a speculative look toward the thief. “He’s even matched the clothes you’re wearing.”

Dal urgently pointed at the other man’s most offensive feature. “But his nose is the fucking size of Brightwater Bay!” the thief said incredulously. “A drunk helmsman could sail a frigate through those nostrils and not worry about scraping the hull!”

Taken aback by Dalthan’s insistence, the [Sharpshooter] looked toward the spy with a more critical eye.

She wasn’t the only one. Sylvia was biting at her lower lip while her amber eyes flickered from Dal to his imposter, and then back again. “I don’t think it’s any bigger than yours,” the nymph finally ventured her hesitant words equal parts statement and question.

“It’s a bit larger,” Sebastian conceded. The spy’s words caused a relieved smile to blossom across Dal’s face a moment before it withered into a scowl when the slanderous scoundrel continued. “It’s also not the only thing of mine that dwarfs what he has to work with.”

Dal’s anger swiftly transitioned to horror when he saw how intrigued the two women were by the baldfaced lie.

“Can we move on?” Zaplixel’s nasally voice made the two women start. The bald wizard was twisting one of the numerous rings on his finger as he spoke. “As much as I enjoy watching Dalthan lose his shit, we do have more important things to talk about. I, for one, would be extremely interested to know why you and your team are here. Where are the rest of them, incidentally? I’m sure that there are more than just you and Drowsy.”

If Dalthan hadn’t already despised Sebastian, he certainly would have after the [Spy] made him appreciate having Zaplixel along.

“I guess we had to get down to business sooner or later,” Sebastian said with a reluctant sigh. The schmuck then had the audacity to flash the two women an apologetic smile. Keysha looked strangely embarrassed by the attention. Sylvia, on the other hand, was brazenly glancing between the thief and his evil twin with an eager twinkle in her amber eyes that Dal had very conflicted feelings about.

“Let’s get the simple stuff out of the way.” Sebastian then rose to his feet and made his way toward the bar, weaving around the empty chairs and vacant tables as he went. “My crew is focused on clandestine activities, so we’re a small group. The only member of my team that you haven’t met is Melody, a [Siren Illusionist].

“So, your entire team is based around mind fucking people?” Dalthan scoffed, offended on behalf of everyone who could be hocus pocus’d into submission.

Stepping around one end of the bar, Sebastian made a see-saw gesture with one hand. “Sort of. We prefer not to lean too heavily on those skills because, with the right tools, even an idiot can neutralize mental domination.”

Zaplixel leaned across the table, dropping his voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s calling you an idiot.”

The smile Dalthan turned toward the wizard held all the warmth of a snow-covered tombstone. “I wonder what he’s going to call you when he finds out you can’t get hard for anything with a pulse.”

“Boys,” Keysha groaned. “Save it. The adults are talking.”

“I don’t know why you keep interrupting him. I thought you loved to hear yourself talk.” Sylvia shot the [Rogue] a mischievous wink.

“That’s not…He isn’t…” Dalthan groaned and tossed his hands into the air. “Fine!” Dal said haughtily. “Carry on, Sebastian.”

The bemused look on the [Doppelganger]’s face made Dal wonder, for the first time, what he might look like with his guts spilling out of his stomach. Would that count as masochism or sadism? Did he care so long as he rid the world of another potential mind fucker?

Blissfully unaware of Dalthan plotting an inevitable betrayal, Sebastian unceremoniously shoved the dozing innkeeper off the bar. The heavy-set man crumpled bonelessly onto the floor with a muffled thump that was loud enough that it made the [Rogue] wince. Amazingly, the man slept through the entire exchange, never once showing any signs of rousing himself from the grip of his deep slumber.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

With the innkeeper now out of the way, Sebastian began gathering up a stack of the tavern's namesake goblets. “There is one undeniable fact that nothing I say will change.” While he spoke, Sebastian began pulling bottles of various liquor out from behind the counter to place them onto the bar.

“The fact is, no matter what I say, none of you are going to believe me if I tell you what our mission is. To be fair, I wouldn’t believe any of you either.” After searching through every dusty bottle, the bar had to offer, Sebastian settled on one half filled with a caramel-colored liquor. Carefully balancing the glasses and the drink, the [Spy] gracefully worked his way back to their table.

Dalthan’s brows furrowed as he watched himself nimbly work his way through the maze of furniture. “Why don’t you just show us your quest scroll?”

Sebastian frowned at the question, but before he could respond Sylvia spoke up. “They can’t. We can’t either. After a team leaves the Hub with a quest, no one outside their party can read the scrolls.”

The [Spy] nodded as he arrived at the table and began to pass out the empty glasses. “It wasn’t always like that. Or so I was told. The quest system prevents high-rank adventurers from accepting low-rank quests. This has been true for ages. What hasn’t been true, is that long ago high-level entities would hunt down low-tier adventurers while they were on missions. At the time, the System prioritized quests being completed over who actually accomplished the goal. Lord Balerik eventually changed it because too many low-rank adventurers were dying. But the change didn’t remove the milestones that the more aggressive rankers had gained from killing their fellow citizens and taking their quests.”

“Some of the most powerful citizens of the Hub gained their strength during that era.” The voice that whispered through the tavern’s common room was the most hauntingly beautiful thing that Dalthan had ever heard. “While the history of the Hub is not a secret, there are those among the truly powerful that would prefer to believe the past is better off forgotten. Tread carefully if you decide to share this knowledge.”

Like a fish being reeled in on an angler’s hook, the rogue’s attention was pulled across the room to the enchanting woman stepping down the stairwell. Dal had seen performers stop traffic on the streets of Wavecrest with their charisma and showmanship.

But he’d never seen anyone like this before.

She wore simple sandals and a thin, gauzy white dress with a hem that fluttered gently against her ankles as she walked. The outfit was impossibly clean, without so much as a speck of dust clinging to its pristine threads. Like her clothes, her pale skin was unblemished and perfectly sculpted. Bright golden hair, like spun sunlight, cascaded across her slender shoulders in artfully sculpted ringlets that trickled their way down to the small of her back. Cinched around her waist, just below the last strands of her golden hair, lay a belt made of colorful seashells. The only accessory she wore held her dress tight against her stomach, letting the otherwise loose material hint at the generous curve of her hips and the equally tantalizing swell of her chest.

Dalthan had never been in love, but it had to feel like this.

Dal was wondering how much Zap would charge him for a couple of rings when a sudden pain shattered his giddy thoughts like a sledgehammer striking a clay pot.

“Owowow, what the fuck?!” Dalthan tried to jerk away on reflex but that only made the searing pain of Keysha tugging on his ear even worse. “You’re going to rip my fucking ear off! Let go!”

“You’re drooling,” the [Sharpshooter] hissed. “Stop embarrassing us.”

“Also,” Sylvia added dryly as she looked at the rogue with a complete lack of sympathy. “She is an [Illusionist].” The nymph tossed her dark, gorgeous hair over her shoulder with a sniff. “She cheats.”

“Okay, okay,” Dalthan grumbled, not at all caring for Sebastian’s obvious amusement. “Let me go.”

The minute Keysha’s fingers relaxed Dalthan jerked away and rubbed at his mauled ear.

“Ahem,” the [Spy] said as he began filling the goblets he’d set out around the table. “Allow me to introduce Melody.”

The [Siren Illusionist] offered each of Dalthan’s teammates a heart-wrenching smile. When her deep blue eyes settled on the thief, she purposefully leaned over the table in a slow, provocative display as she offered him her perfectly manicured hand.

“Charmed,” she murmured. Her voice alone could have convinced him to dive into an active volcano.

The [Rogue]’s lips parted, fully intending to propose to her on the spot. But before he could speak the words, the warmth he’d felt earlier returned. Like the light of dawn searing away a heavy fog, the thoughts clouding his mind began to evaporate. Melody was certainly beautiful, but why was he so ready to dive into a bucket of razor blades for her? It took more than a pretty face for that. Sylvia was gorgeous as well, but he’d never considered proposing to her.

The half-witted smile that’d bloomed across his face when Melody spoke to him fractured and broke.

“Fascinating,” the siren murmured as she withdrew her hand. Without another word, she took a seat beside Sebastian.

“Alright, we’ve established that we can’t trust one another,” Keysha said eager to move the conversation forward. “How do you propose we handle this? We’re not just going to sit on our hands and ignore our quest.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Sebastian said gravely, Dalthan’s voice sounding unusually sincere coming from him. “I think we can all simply go about our business. I don’t know what you’re here for, but I feel confident in knowing what you’re not here to do. The lizardfolk troubling Sweet Water are nominally under the leadership of a cleric named Blightclaw. Blightclaw receives his blessings through a celestial that has taken up residence in the Fortress of Scorched Stone.”

“An angel is living in the lizardfolk fortress?” Sylvia gasped; shock written across her lovely face.

“There is indeed,” the [Spy] replied with a smile. Mimicking some of Dalthan’s showmanship, or perhaps possessing his own, Sebastian spread his arms wide. “Whatever mission you’re on, I’m certain it isn’t to help an angel. I see no reason that we can’t all coexist. We’ll leave with the merchant convoy, same as you all, and when the time comes for either team to act, the other will simply stay out of their way.”

“You don’t happen to know the name of the angel working with the lizardfolk, do you?” Zaplixel’s voice was casual as could be despite the tell-tale way the wizard began to fidget anxiously with the numerous rings around his fingers.

Sebastian tilted his head thoughtfully. “Rimewild?” he offered hesitantly before casting a glance toward Melody.

“Rimewyrd,” the siren corrected smoothly.

An uncomfortable silence descended on the tavern. Before it could fester into something poisonous, Dalthan dove into the conversation. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say until he spoke, he just knew he needed a distraction. Now.

“It’s going to be awkward having two of me running around,” Dalthan said sharply as he tried to ignore the veiled looks he was getting from his party members.

Sebastian dismissed the [Rogue]’s concern with a wave of his hand. “I adopted your guise because things were tense between you and Drowsy. People tend to think twice before they harm themselves or a team member, even when they know it’s just an illusion. Now that we’ve been properly introduced, I’ll change back to my earlier disguise tomorrow morning.”

“We will be here for two more days. I suppose that gives us plenty of time to iron out any issues we might have.” Keysha purposefully avoided looking at Dalthan as she spoke. A fact that the thief did not miss.

“I can’t imagine having any issues,” Sebastian replied. “Unless you need money for supplies. If so, the innkeeper had quite the tidy sum tucked away beneath the floorboards of his room upstairs.” As he spoke, the [Spy] finished filling the crystal goblets with a healthy splash of the bourbon that he’d liberated from the bar.

“A toast," urged the doppelganger wearing Dalthan’s face. “To the success of the Hub and its people!”

“Here, here!” Dalthan responded, lifting his glass and tossing his shot.

While the others were awkwardly following Sebastian’s lead, Dal decided to take a moment and look over the message he’d ignored till now.

Welcome to the Celestial Framework

Ver:h07y.e1337

System loading from hibernation mode...Load Successful

You have been awarded your first perk: Stable Mind

Full System Initialization...Error.

Attempting Boot Strap...Error.

Please see a local administrator.

This, the thief thought, could be a problem.