Author: Eric Ugland Narrated Byneil Hellegers
Date: 2021-10-05 00:00:00+00:00
Description: He's tried to ignore them for too long. But the long-simmering conflict between Montana's holding at Coggeshall and the Night Goblins who also occupy the valley is about to boil over. Usually, goblins aren't anything to write home about: an enemy without much size, intellect, or weaponry. But these goblins? Well, that's just not the case. These are goblins with limitless resources, never-before-seen tactics, and horrifying monsters at their disposal. Worst of all, they don't fear death in the slightest. They just might force a good guy to become what he has always struggled to defeat. Killing
Publisher: Tantor Audio
Rights: Copyright 2021 Eric Ugland. All rights reserved.

Killing Them Awfully

Eric Ugland

Air Quotes Publishing

Air Quotes Publishing, Inc.

V 1.2

Copyright © 2021 Eric Ugland

Cover by Sarah Anderson/No Synonym

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of Fiction. Of Fantasy. All of the characters in this novel and series are fictional and any resemblance to people living, dead, or undead is purely coincidental and surprising. Mentions of places are incidental, accidental, and mostly inconsequential. The magic and spells have been researched in absolutely no way whatsoever, and any ill-effects after you attempt to cast them are completely on you.

Those of you looking for the thing, we are still holding off on the game because I’m trying to make it fair for all you guys, not just the kiwis who read books.

To Whom It May Concern,

Have you considered extending
your car’s warranty?

1

Just as I was about to enter my room, I ran smack into Darius, my face hitting his chest.

He looked down at me, a rare smile on his face.

“It’s happening,” he said.

“I need a bit more information,” I said, trying to extricate myself from the big guy and make my way toward the shower and bathroom.

“The egg!” he exclaimed. “It’s hatching.”

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“I’m not — look!!” He pointed, and, sure enough, I could see small cracks forming across the shell.

“Your grace!” came a call from behind me.

“In here,” I yelled back, my attention on the egg, wondering what sort of monster was about to come through.

“There’s a challenge being called at the doors,” Nathalie said, out of breath from running up the stairs. “A devil calls you to fight, or he will destroy Coggeshall.”

I leaned back, staring upward, and shook my head.

“Motherfucker needs to take a fucking number,” I shouted.

“What number would you suggest he take?” Nathalie asked.

“Who is this fuck-wad?”

“A devil.”

“Why would I go outside to fight a devil?”

“He claims to have the means to destroy Coggeshall.”

“Aren’t devils notorious liars?”

“Yes.”

“Then why—”

“Because the devil says there are individuals already placed inside Coggeshall, ready to invite devils in unless you emerge to fight him.”

“And you believe him?”

“It seems to me, at the least, that he is telling the truth.”

“And why is that?”

“Because a devil who had been invited inside delivered his message.”

“By whom?”

“That’s the issue — I know not who did it, but someone did. The devil remains inside, waiting patiently for your grace. It is entirely possible said devil will begin inviting its kin inside any moment, regardless of the others secreted about MountainHome.”

I looked over at Darius, but his complete attention was on the egg.

“How much time do you think I have?” I asked.

“He is waiting now,” Nathalie said.

“Darius,” I said louder, giving Nathalie a bit of side-eye, “how much time do I have until the egg hatches?”

“It’s a mystery egg, Montana,” Darius said without looking at me. “I have no idea. It could burst out right now, or it could spend the next few days working—“

I walked over to the egg, letting the big green chain clank behind me, and put my hand on its shell.

“You need to wait a spell,” I said firmly.

The egg stopped moving.

I looked over at Darius with a smile of wonderment. He looked back with wide-eyes and a frown.

“How did you do that?” Darius asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied.

“Your grace?” Nathalie asked.

“I know,” I said, “I’m coming.”

I grabbed my knapsack and tied it to my belt. Then I made sure the chains were wrapped around my arms in a way that they wouldn’t affect my mobility too much. I pulled a cloak on, and nodded at Nathalie.

“Ready,” I said.

“Are you going to remove the chains?” she asked.

“Eventually,” I replied.

She frowned, but turned on her heel and led the way down the stairs.

“Long night,” I said after a moment of walking together.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Did you get any sleep?”

“No.”

“Are you eating that dwarven stuff to stay awake?”

“No. That stuff rots your insides.”

I frowned, and shoved the tilbabow leaves I was about to offer her deeper into my pouch.

“I have been staying awake because I need to stay awake,” she said. “It is my duty to you and Coggeshall.”

“I appreciate it,” I said.

The stairwell was empty. The hallways were empty. We were very much alone, all the way until we approached the main entrance of MountainHome.

Twelve guards stood around a lithe, ruby-skinned creature with wings folded tight to its back.

The devil was tall enough to look me straight in the eye. Its features were human, but in an inhuman way, an apocryphal uncanny valley effect coming on strong. It had purple irises that seemed to swirl and move in physically impossible ways.

Oddly, as the devil turned to face me, I realized its clothes were like a sleek, semi-modern black silk suit.

“Montana of Coggeshall,” the fiend said with a slight bow of its elegant head, revealing horns that laid perfectly flat against its hairless scalp. “What an absolute pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh,” I said, surprised by the clipped, perfect diction and peculiar politeness from a devil. “Likewise. I mean, I, uh, who are you?”

“Verraslagter,” the devil replied with another bow and a wide smile, which showed off crimson fangs.

“Verraslagter,” I replied, “it is nice to meet you.”

“Pleasantries aside, your grace, I come before you to request your presence outside these vaunted halls. There you may meet my master on the field of battle and die a horrific death, followed by uninterrupted torment in the hells below, until such time as you agree to become a soldier for the hells and fight against the horrors who seek to destroy all that we know.”

“Oh,” I said, trying to make sure I was parsing through all that had just been said. “So seems like no real upside for me.”

“It does seem that way, yes.”

“Why would I go out there, exactly?”

“If you refuse, I have been authorized to welcome in any and all fiends who wish to visit Coggeshall.”

“There are devils who want to come here?”

“More than a few, your grace,” it replied. Verraslagter scanned the room and stopped on a young guard with a pretty face. The fiend licked its lips, kept its eyes on the pretty face, and said: “This place is practically bursting with souls ripe for the harvesting.”

“Ah,” I said. “Then I guess that’s a pretty good incentive to, you know, head outside.”

“Depends upon your feelings for your, well, underlings.”

“I tend to like ‘em.”

“Pity.”

“It’s put me in some tough spots, but, you know, they’re worth it.”

Verraslagter looked at me and raised one slightly spiked eyebrow ridge. “I highly doubt that.”

“Might I have a moment?” I asked.

“I have been advised to not give you overly long,” Verraslagter replied. “Our night nears its end, and my master is disinclined to wait another year.”

“So you’re just going to start rattling off devil names if I take too long?”

“Yes, your grace. I have a fantastic list to start. In fact, if you wish, I could invite an arch prince! I have his name right here,” Verraslagter held out a small notebook and quickly showed me a list of names. A rather long list, but I made sure to pay attention, and caught the one at the top.

* * *

Jurthruran

* * *

I wasn’t exactly sure I was supposed to actually see the name, but now I had it. Though I’m not sure why I felt like I’d pulled one over on the devil — what use was a fiend’s name when I really didn’t want to have anything to do with the fuckers? On the other hand, maybe I was supposed to see the name, and it was really just a decoy. That suddenly seemed more likely.

“No,” I said, “that’s not necessary. Bit crowded in here and I’d hate to show a big devil a bad time.”

“Then I suggest you join me outside where we might engage my—“

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, “I get it. Let’s go.”

“Your grace,” Nathalie said, her eyes wide. “You are going outside?”

“There’s not exactly a choice here, Nathalie,” I said. “I go out or you all pay the price.”

“Your grace,” she tried again, “I think—”

“You’re in charge until I get back.”

“Your grace, I, what do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.”

“But—”

I gave her a smile, and because I was extremely tired and definitely not thinking straight, gave her a thumbs up as well.

She frowned and looked at her own thumb, trying to make sense of the gesture.

I just shook my head and followed Verraslagter out of MountainHome.

2

Night still hung over us.

Constant night.

Pure darkness, all the fucking time.

And because, you know, WINTER, it was snowing. Granted, not like, blizzard snowing. More Norman Rockwell, pleasant-flakes-drifting-by-the-window snowing. But being that I wasn’t dressed for much of anything, and had holes in both my clothes and my armor, I felt the sting of the cold.

Verraslagter didn’t seem phased in the slightest, blithely marching along in front of me.

“Any chance you want to tell me who your master is?” I asked.

“And spoil the surprise?” Verraslagter asked in mock indignation. “Never.”

“Okay, what’s it like in hell?”

“Hellish.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“And yet, apt.”

“Come on — it’s a childish response and you know it.”

“There are several hells,” Verraslagter replied with a sigh. “It is hard to categorize them all. What if I asked you what it is like on Vuldranni? How might you respond? Would you say your experiences in Glaton apply to those in, say, Strug Lia?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Well, having been to both nations, I will tell you it differs greatly from here.”

“What’s it like?”

“Normally I wouldn’t bother answering such a question,” Verraslagter said, “without payment of some form. But given that we have more to stroll until your demise, I suppose I might give a little.”

“How generous of you.”

I got a smile in return. A predatory one, but a smile nonetheless.

“Strug Lia is far to the south, in the opposite hemisphere. Nearly on the other side of the planet,” Verraslagter said. “Dense rainforests cover much of the flatlands, with cloud forests shrouding the few mountains. There are tiny isolated pockets of civilization here and there. No humans have ever made it to them, and they only have stories of the existence of bipedal races.”

“They’re not bipedal?” I asked.

“They are not. Tentacled.”

“Like an octopus or, um—”

“Yes, your grace. Though cephalopod would be more accurate. The great jungles hide the ruins of a mighty civilization, one more advanced than Glaton, or even Trüle. Though the current residents have yet to realize what lies under their feet. Or, rather, under their suckers.”

“Do they live underwater?”

“The Pfeffari are arboreal, though they can breathe air and water with equal ease. Fascinating types, though, as I already stated, very different from here. Or you. And I am sure they would offer me a completely different picture were I to ask them what Vuldranni was like.”

“Point made.”

“I appreciate when one can admit their errors.”

“I’ve had quite a bit of practice.”

“I have heard you are quite stupid. But in my experience, that has not proved true.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“Yet.”

I rolled my eyes.

We strolled up the stairs of the wall. At the top, we looked out across the cleared area to the trees, and I saw a large figure standing alone.

“That’s your master?” I asked.

“For the moment,” Verraslagter replied.

“Are you looking for new employment?”

“It would be uncouth for me to break a contract. My kind tends to frown on that.”

“Care to make a wager on the fight?”

“No. Should you win, I would not be happy to be in your debt. Should you lose, you have nothing to offer me.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

Verraslagter smiled, unfurled its wings, and shot up into the air.

I sighed, and dropped over the wall into the deep snow. I floundered for a moment, trying to pull myself out of the ditch, and waded through the windswept drift until I was mostly on firm ground with just my lower legs in the snow. My opponent did not have the same troubles.

The devil waiting was larger than me, wore more armor than me, and also had horns. Which I lacked. It also had a beard that was forked and braided. Which I thought would look good on me.

I tried to swallow my jealousy over his majestic facial hair, but I couldn’t. The devil was very human, almost preternaturally so, and without the whole uncanny valley problem Verraslagter suffered from. Large wings loomed over his back, and his horns swirled up and out, ending in vicious points.

His face looked somehow similar.

“My opponent returns,” he said in a profoundly deep bass that echoed off the wall behind me. It sounded strange and disconcerting.

“Not sure I’m returning,” I said.

“Then mayhaps I am returning.”

“Mayhaps?”

“It means perhaps. Or maybe—”

“I know what it means, just, who the fuck says mayhaps?”

“I do, you clod.”

“Clod? Similar, I know what it means—“

“I regret not killing you the first time we met.”

“I have no idea who the fuck you are.”

“Hard to believe.”

“You can believe whatever you like, bub. But I’m pretty sure I’d remember a face as ugly as yours with horns only a goat could love. I do like that beard though.”

The fiend snarled. “Your arrogance will be your downfall.”

“Is that hubris? I can never remember.”

I just got a blank look back.

“I wasn’t great at school,” I said. “Kinda forgot—“

“Yes,” the fiend intoned. “Arrogance can be construed as hubris.”

“Thanks. Different topic: why are you here?”

“To kill you, of course. To take your soul to the hells where I can torment it until—“

“Right,” I said with a snap of my fingers, “Verraslagter did mention something like that. Still don’t remember you, though. I feel like I’d remember meeting a devil.”

“I was not a devil then,” my opponent said. “A mere mortal. I am now what I intend to make you. Though, naturally, I doubt you will ever match me.”

“Seems like I already matched you. And bested you.”

“Cheap shots!” the devil roared. “You were a poor fighter, and—“

“We were fighting to the death?”

“Always.”

“Then it’s all fair game, you whiny bastard.”

“You have no honor.”

“You’re the fucking devil.”

“And I fight a greater fight now. One you cannot possibly understand.”

“I mean, seems like since you already called me an idiot, you’re getting kind of boring with these insults.”

He snarled.

“I am Titus,” he finally boomed, standing proud and looking as if I should be cowed.

“Who?” I asked.

“Titus. I am—“

“Do you have a last name?”

“I only need one name—“

“All evidence to the contrary. No memory of any Tituses.”

“I—“

“Wait a second, didn’t I take your jaw? And your sword?”

Titus sneered at me. I could feel power radiating out from the slaving asshole. It was as good a moment as any to reach into my bag.

“Our last meeting was a wake-up call for me,” he mumbled. “I have spent the time since learning new methods of combat. Making myself more powerful than you could ever imagine. My patron bid me come here for you, though I would love to be anywhere else because I see you as worthless. But—“

“You have a patron? I have a patron.”

“I know you have a patron.”

“Who’s your patron?”

He blinked a few times, then shook his head. “Never you mind my patron. Focus on your impending death.”

I pulled out the Sword of Weight and held it up.

“Hey, look at that,” I said. “I still have your sword!”

* * *

The Sword of Weight

Item Type: Epic

Item Class: One-handed Melee, Two-handed Melee

Material: Hepatizon

Damage: 100-250 (Slashing)

Durability: 500/800

Weight: 18 lbs

Requirements: Str 18

Description: An oversized sword designed for cutting and slashing, hits with triple times the weight.

* * *

“You will regret boasting about this moment,” he said. He held his hand out, and a massive flaming blade coalesced into his palm. It was easily ten feet long, with huge flames licking around the glossy black metal blade.

“Boasting?” I asked. “Maybe I was just trying to give you your sword back.”

He paused and squinted at me.

“Although, if I remember correctly,” I said, “weren’t you a slaver?”

“I wasn’t a slaver, I was the slaver. I was by far the best at capturing live sentients. I had more gold than most kingdoms and was poised to become so much greater than a dolt like you could ever imagine.”

“Okay, now I feel dirty just talking to you. Let’s get this over with.”

I got a shield out of my bag and strapped it onto my arm, making sure my tiny celestial spoon was also in my shield hand. Then I held the sword back, ready to receive the charge I knew had to be coming.

Instead, a line of fire roared out along the ground from him to me.

I dove to the side, sliding in the snow and hurrying back to my feet.

This was going to be an entirely different kind of fight.

3

As my feet hit the ground, I had to get my shield up to absorb the blow from the huge flaming sword. When the blade hit, sparks shot off and blinded me.

The hit was monstrously strong. Not quite enough that I felt outmatched, but enough that I knew this guy would pose a problem.

I shoved his blade off my shield and swung the Sword of Weight around in a big arc. He got his sword up to block, showering me with another round of sparks. It was like we were in the last fight of Highlander.

After holding our pose for half a second, he leaned in, gritting his sharp teeth at me, eyes quite literally ablaze.

“Prepare—” he began, but I just head-butted him.

He stumbled back a step, and I swept my sword in a downward chop.

Chunk.

My heavy blade bit deep, cleaving his cloven feet.

I leaned into my shield and bashed him with all the strength I could muster.

The devil screamed and fell backward, off balance and in obvious pain.

I followed, sword up high, and swung down hard.

But Titus opened his mouth and blasted my entire body with fire.

I barely closed my eyes in time, and it still did a good job cooking my face and getting rid of my shitty beard-start.

Motherfucker.

A normal person engulfed in flame would have probably stopped their hit. But I knew that wasn’t the right move, so I continued to power my chop.

There was a heavy clank, and a brief resistance before Titus’s infernal armor gave up. I felt my sword sink into his chest.

I let go of the hilt and dove to the side, into the snow, hearing the loud hiss as I put myself out. No more MontanaCandle. Montandle?

At the same time, I reached out with tremorsense. I felt Titus already on his feet — er, hooves — stomping towards me, albeit having a little trouble balancing, since he was missing part of his foot. Or hoof. Both.

I rolled to the side, my eyes still not working quite right, and got to my feet, sword out in front, feeling where Titus was.

His wild swing missed, and he grunted as he overbalanced.

I reached into my open knapsack and got out a spear. I did a little spin in my hand to get a better grip and willed my eyes to open up.

They would not.

“Fuck,” I said.

“Ask for mercy, blind man,” Titus barked out, “and I might be willing to grant it.”

“As in you’ll let me live?”

“As in I’ll kill you quickly.”

“Nah.”

“You can’t see, you fool! You have—”

I threw the spear and heard it strike true. The peculiar sound of iron spearhead thunking into devil’s flesh.

Titus roared with rage and pain. I wondered if, perhaps, that spearhead hadn’t been iron.

I felt Titus take a few steps back, and felt when the spear hit the ground near him. Tremorsense was pretty amazing when it was the only way to ‘see.’ And, because Titus seemed to have a fondness for fire, nearly all the snow around the two of us had melted, making it easier for me to feel where everything was. It’s tough to catch vibrations through snow.

Titus came forward, moving slowly, testing me.

I’d missed my opening to pull another weapon from the bag, so I got the shield up and did my best at pretending I couldn’t really see, playing that my throw had been pure luck.

My sword was somewhere nearby, and I had a fix on the spear.

I could feel Titus shift his weight.

He lunged toward me, his sword whistling through the air.

I dove forward, going into a low roll, and came to my feet right next to my spear. I slid my foot under the haft and kicked it up, snatching it from the air and throwing it in one reasonably smooth motion.

There was a hard clank as the spear hit something metallic, and then hit the ground. Twice.

It had been cut in two.

This is too hard, I thought.

I crouched behind my shield and felt Titus circling to my right.

I remained in place and quickly touched my ruined face.

It was pretty well burned.

My eyelids had fused shut.

I sighed, not liking what I was about to do.

But you gotta do what you gotta do.

I took a deep breath, ripped my eyelids off, and tossed them to the side.

The dark world came alive in front of me, just in time to see a brilliant fireball angling toward my right shoulder.

I shifted my shield and tucked against the metal, closing my eyes tightly. Or, you know, trying to close my eyes, but that wasn’t really an option anymore.

The fireball hit in a beautiful explosion and pushed me back a few inches. It even got my metal shield to glow a bit.

I peeked around the edge of the shield and saw Titus approaching right behind. His fiendish body soared in the air, and his sword arced down to slice me in half.

With no time to dodge, I managed to get my shield in the way. I watched a shower of sparks rain down as the metal shield buckled in around my arm.

Titus roared and pulled back for an additional swing.

I backpedaled, ripping off the ruined shield and throwing it at Titus, who batted it aside with a sneer.

But it ruined his swing.

We stood with just a few feet between us, each rather wounded and bleeding. His blood was a nearly iridescent crimson, while mine was so dark it was essentially black.

“Where’d you come from?” I asked, the question rising unbidden. It’s like I couldn’t pass up the chance to get some sort of touchstone to Earth.

He frowned. “Florida.”

“Michigan.”

There was a barely perceptible nod from Titus.

“Shame to kill a fellow American,” he said.

“Agreed. We could—“

“It’s an order,” he interrupted. “No choice in the matter.”

“I’m assuming a respawn for me—“

“Doesn’t quite work that way in the hells.”

“’Fraid I can’t let you kill me, then.”

He gave me another nod.

“Plus there was that whole you being a slaver thing,” I said.

“The things here aren’t real,” Titus replied. “They’re only here for us to play with. They’re pawns, and we’re—“

“We’re the fucking pawns,” I snapped, feeling a rage bubble up I wasn’t fully aware had been broiling. “We are the ones being toyed with—“

“By gods. The gods play with us, we play with them.”

“We’re here to protect them.”

“You’re a fucking tool.”

“I’m the one with free choice, though. You’re the one stuck with orders.”

“It’s an order I will enjoy carrying out.”

“Still an order, scrub.”

Titus’ lip quivered into a sneer. I could see him re-gripping his sword. I felt like his knuckles were probably white under his gauntlets.

With a flick of my very dry eyes, I saw the magical Sword of Weight in a pool of fiend fluid off to my right.

He shot a glance to follow my eyes, and the sneer shifted to a smile.

“Running out of weapons?” he asked. “I always hated when you fucking people would invade my sunshine state.”

“I just hated your state. You fuck any gators while you were there?”

He barked out a laugh and said something, but I’d stopped paying attention. He was just talking to talk, likely waiting for a moment just like this one, where I zoned out for a second. But I was tired after dealing with all the shit surrounding Fiends’ Night, and the reality of the night was catching up to me. Nikolai was gone, and I’d lost who knows how many others to a shape-changing slime monster. What the fuck was I even doing in this fucked up world? Was I a pawn being used by a god? Was it my duty to protect those under me or to abuse those under me? Why was I taking a moment of introspection in the middle of a fucking fight?

Tremorsense thrummed, and I snapped back to reality just in time to see the devil’s blade coming down at my head, a perfect chop about to bisect me.

I leaned forward, ready for all this nonsense to be over, at least for a while.

The blade glowed in the air, and hit the back of my neck.

But it clanged, bouncing off at a strange angle.

“What is this?” Titus yelled, and snapped a quick cut back at me.

I didn’t have the presence of mind to move, still caught up in the vague funk of whatever was affecting me.

His slash clanged across the links of my chain, dancing up my arm towards my head.

I ducked down and felt the soft wind from the sword across my bare, burned scalp.

My cloak, barely holding on to begin with, fell off, revealing the lengths of vibrant green chain tied to my arms and shoulders. Next the string holding it in place lost its battle, and the chain dropped to the ground, a great weight lifted from me. Sort of.

“Huh,” Titus said.

I smiled and shrugged. Then I grabbed the chain in my hands and whipped it around at Titus.

Titus got his sword up to block my swing, but the chain whipped around, smacking his face before it wrapped around his sword.

I pulled the chain back. There was a quick moment where I thought I’d snatch his sword from his hands, but the blade just came free.

Titus took a step back, shaking his head slightly. He seemed to take a moment to rework his strategy with the additional information of these chains.

I started to wrap the chains around my arms, trying to get some of their immense length under control and to have some bonus armor, in a way.

Titus lunged at me, his sword thrusting forward.

I twisted my torso, and the blade slid along my mail, popping the small steel rings off and shooting them into the night. The weight of the chain surprised me — I certainly wasn’t used to fighting with them — and I overbalanced, taking an extra step to catch myself.

But that left me open to attack, and Titus was not about to miss that chance. He swung a powerful overhand chop down, again trying to cleave me in two.

Acting on pure instinct, I reached up and caught the blade.

It sliced right through my skin, my blood sizzling as it came in contact with the blade. But the sharp edge of the sword stopped when it hit my bone, and I just stood there, holding the blade away from me.

The devil’s eyes went wide. He shook his head.

“What are you — How are you—” he started.

He whipped his sword out of my grip and swung it again.

I pulled my arm to my side in a boxer’s block and accepted the blow on my arms.

The sword slipped past the links of the chain, then cut through my mail in a spray of sparks, and more rings breaking off. The blade bit into my arm, but again stopped against my bone.

I brought my other fist around and slammed it into the devil’s sword holding hand. I hit hard.

His grip relented, and I shoved my body sideways against his blade.

The sword tumbled to the ground. I gave it a hearty kick.

He roared in anger, his steaming spittle flying out into the cold air.

I could feel the power welling up inside the fiend’s body, and I knew a spell was coming. Right as he opened his mouth, right when I saw the glint of fire deep in his gullet, ready to rage forth, I jammed the celestial spoon up, right though the soft spot under his chin, through the palate on top of his mouth, until the bulbous soup-hold-y bit slipped out in the middle of his infernal nose.

He went cross-eyed for a second before the spell had nowhere to go and caused his head to explode, raining organic debris down over me and knocking me back on my ass, my eyes burned out in the process.

I heard a hard thump as Titus’s knees hit the ground, then a softer thud as his torso did the same.

Dead.

* * *

GG! You’ve killed Titus (Steel Level Devil of the Underwell).

You’ve earned 3375 xp! What a mighty hero you are.

* * *

I laid in the mud of our fighting pit, finally letting the exquisite pain of my wounds wash over me.

It was difficult to feel much of anything beyond that misery, the waves of burns, stabs, slashes, bruises, contusions. And worst of all, that empty spot where Nikolai had been.

I let it all wash over me, hoping the physical hurt would mute Nikolai.

But that’s not how it works. I should know. I’d been there many times before.

And even though I felt like I’d grown, I could still feel that underlying rage. That cold urge to commit violence in the name of Nikolai. To just kill until I felt better.

That was something different — I hadn’t felt that way in the old world. Back when I’d been in that cycle of violence, the killing hadn’t really mattered. It’d been about the violence. I wanted to make other people feel pain so I wouldn’t have to acknowledge my own shit. But in Vuldranni, at least at this moment, laying in the mud as the snow softly fell on top of me, I somehow thought that the best thing I could do was go on a killing spree.

I shook my head, noting that my eyelids had already grown back and I could blink once again. Never realized how much blinking is amazing until I couldn’t do it.

Slowly, I got to my feet.

Titus no longer had a head. Well, more accurately, Titus’s body no longer had a head, because there were bits of Titus-head everywhere. Including covering me.

I lifted my shirt a little to look at my armor. It was ruined, with most of one side hanging down, useless. I scooped up my ruined shield and my broken spear and tossed them into my unfillable knapsack. Then I got the Sword of Weight and put that in too. I looked over the black armor covering Titus’s ruined body.

A large bipedal figure stepped out of the trees about a hundred yards away. It unfolded until it was nearly as tall as the trees itself. The creature took long steps across the open field until it towered over me.

I craned my head to look up at something akin to a face. It was like someone had stretched skin-colored spandex over a broken elk skull.

The creature kneeled and wrapped long, skinny fingers around Titus’s corpse.

“You fought the challenge,” the creature intoned in a horrible low voice that seemed to vibrate my whole person. “I will allow you to leave. Remain and I will kill you.”

“Seems fair,” I said.

The immense creature stood, holding Titus’s corpse loose in one hand, and stared at me.

I gave a slight wave and walked back toward Coggeshall, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

4

The egg hadn’t started moving again, so I figured I had time to shower, get in my bed, and think about a tiny sliver of sleep. It was still dark out, but all the Fiends’ Night calling and screaming, and the hellish noises in general, had died down. I took that as a sign this stupid holiday was nearly over.

What a ridiculous thing to go through every fucking year.

Speaking of ridiculous, not only could I not take a shower, I couldn’t even take off my fucking shirt. Or my mail. The joys of having manacles and chains permanently attached. I suppose I could have taken a shower, but then I’d have to sleep in wet clothes. I could cut my clothes off, but that seemed extreme since I’d still have on ruined armor. So I just threw myself in bed, out of spite more than anything. I figured I’d stare at the ceiling until stupid Fiends’ Night was over, and we were back to having daylight once again.

Somehow, I slipped into sleep.

* * *

IT IS TIME. YOU MUST CHOOSE.

For reaching Level 30, you must make a Choice. This prompt may not be minimized nor ignored.

1) Burghmann — Not quite undisciplined enough to be a barbarian, nor so noble as to be a knight, you are still a grand warrior with honor who lives to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Martial skills advance double. You take less damage from all attacks as long as you are protecting at least one non-combatant. Gain bonus XP from protecting others.

2) Reaper — Reapers kill. Indiscriminately. A reaper provides death for any and all. Gain double XP from all kills. Gain zero XP from other sources. Do 10% more damage to living creatures.

3) Noble — You have a title, whether or not you deserve it. Leadership skills advance double. You gain a portion of your sworn followers’ XP. Bonuses to relationships with other nobles, penalties for Freemen.

4) Monster Hunter — You understand the creatures others fear. Monsters are commonplace to you, but you hate them. Bonuses to damage monsters. Visualize monster weaknesses. Bonuses to harvesting Monsters.

5) Juggernaut — You are an unstoppable force on the battlefield, but might not find a place off the battlefield. You gain the ability Indomitable. You gain the ability Charge. Martial skills advance double. You gain increased XP while in battle, but your XP is halved outside of battle.

6) Nothing — Nothing is as it sounds. You receive no benefits, no penalties, nothing. You receive nothing. You will be nothing. Not the bravest of choices, but something you have been satisfied with in the past.

You have one minute to decide.

* * *

I sighed. This never felt like actual sleep. It was more like the time between alarm snoozes. I hated it.

My Choice options hadn’t changed, and one had even been brought back. As had Nothing. Could I choose Nothing? What would that mean? I felt lost without Nikolai around. To be fair, I hadn’t exactly been great about taking his advice in the past, but I’d been trying to get better. I’d been trying to improve, even if nearly everyone thought I was just stuck in the metaphysical muck. Maybe Nothing was the right direction.

I could feel the time ticking away as I thought, and I had to wonder why there was a time limit at all when this was happening in a fucking dream state. It just seemed unfair.

I wanted to take Nothing because I was sad and frustrated, because I wanted to throw up my hands and walk away from the mess I’d made. That was the basic building block of my old life. When things got tough, well, the tough get going to somewhere with greener pastures and vague extradition treaties. But I had made myself, made Montana, as a being against that. Of sticking through the hard times.

And yet, since I’d been in Vuldranni, what had I actually done that wound up being positive? I’d honestly made things rather shitty. Maybe my baser impulses were the right ones to follow. Maybe it was time to run. I mean, if I was the only thing I was responsible for, it’d certainly be a simpler life. There wasn’t much in this world that could hurt me, certainly not if I was living somewhere with a more relaxed lifestyle. Maybe I could just be a dock worker in the capital city of Glaton. Load boats in the day, fish in the evening, have a little hovel I retreated to for the night. That didn’t seem so bad. Plenty of guards to fight monsters, plenty of Legion to patrol, and only myself to look out for.

I desperately wanted to run away at that moment. Be a Nothing and let go of all this shit. Of titles and responsibility. Of all the different fucking quests that I’d probably forgotten half of, of people who thought I owed them something and people who thought I was just a target to be taken down. I wanted to get away from Coggeshall — it was a shitty job that didn’t seem to have any upsides I actually cared about. It was work. And it was hard. And unpleasant. And people kept fucking dying, and I didn’t want to deal with that shit. Hell, a good chunk of the reason I’d left my first life was because I didn’t want to keep dealing with people I cared about dying. Now I was right back in the thick of it and—

* * *

Notice: You have run out of time to make your decision. You will remain a Burghmann.

* * *

FUCK.

Just fuck.

Fuck it all.

Fuck everything.

And especially fuck introspection, because how the fuck had I lost myself for a whole minute just thinking about running the fuck away?

Fuck.

Without really thinking, I threw my attribute points in constitution. I was getting too close to actual death too often.

* * *

For reaching Level 30, you are granted an additional ability.

You may now pick your level 30 ability.

1) True Sight - See the world as it really is, pierce illusions, remove disguises, look beneath the waves without polarized lenses. You will see everything as it truly is. True Sight may be used once per day for thirty minutes, twice per day for five minutes, or five times per day for one minute.

2) —

* * *

I didn’t wait to read the other options, I just straight-up picked True Sight. I didn’t want to get fooled again. Sure, I couldn’t use it all the time, but even being able to get a little peek at potentially invisible things would give me enough peace of mind to, in theory, sleep better at night.

Then I slipped into an actual sleep.

5

Sunlight on my face woke me up.

I smiled at the friendly warmth.

I opened my eyes, and then got my arm up to block the sun.

I felt something on my chest. I reached down slowly, really hoping something wasn’t about to bite me.

It was a pouch.

I frowned and went to sit up. Which was actually a bit challenging, because the fucking chain got stuck behind my back.

The pouch was remarkably smooth leather, nearly white with a yellow ribbon keeping it shut.

I opened it up and peered inside. There was a small piece of folded paper at the top, and I pulled it out and unfolded it.

* * *

Congratulations on a successful Fiends’ Night hunt!

The celestial bounty board tabulated you were instrumental in the disposal of one Copper Level devil, one Bronze Level devil, one Iron Level devil, and one Steel Level devil. For this, you receive the following rewards.

One (1) bonbon of blessing - The Blessing of the Bells.

Two (2) omer of local currency

One (1) minor celestial weapon

* * *

I tossed the note aside and looked in the pouch. There was a small wax-paper-wrapped chocolate, two heavy golden coins, and the hilt of a weapon, with no blade or anything.

The chocolate looked plain, maybe like a truffle or something. Fine by me — I’ve never been big into the fancier candies.

I pulled out the golden coin and gave it the once over. Though calling it a coin was being generous — it was more like a golden disc. There were no markings on it. It was heavy enough to be actual gold, and about the size of my palm. I set it down on the bed next to me, and as it touched the blanket, golden coins appeared in its place, clinking as they settled into a pile. I grabbed one of the coins. It was a golden Imperial coin. Made me wonder how much an omer was...

When I grabbed the hilt, I got a notification.

* * *

Select your weapon, minor:

Dagger

Stiletto

Hand Axe

Light Mace

Basilard

* * *

On and on went the list of potential weapons, going from more general types to more specific things I’d never heard of, all of which were basically one-handed smaller weapons on par with a dagger. I picked dagger, and instantly a dagger was in my hand.

* * *

Celestial Dagger

Item Type: Rare

Item Class: One-handed Melee

Material: Celestium

Damage: 10-20 (Slashing), 30-50 (Piercing)

Durability: 200/200

Weight: 0.8 lbs

Requirements: None

Description: A slim, short blade with a delicate blue sparkle and a black-wrapped leather hilt.

* * *

I gave the blade a bit of a heft, and did a few practice slashes through the air. Seemed like a much better weapon than my celestial spoon — although the spoon was always going to have a soft spot in my heart. Because I’m a savage, and I didn’t have a place to put the dagger, I threw it at the dresser. The blade thunked deep into the wood.

Meanwhile, the pouch had disappeared. The coins and chocolate were still there, but no pouch. Apparently it wasn’t part of the bounty.

I sighed, reaching up to push my hair back. My hands ran over prickly stubble.

Fuck. Still bald. No beard either.

I heard a loud snore erupt from the far side of the room. As if to punctuate this announcement, Darius let out a prolonged fart that sounded impressively like a deflating balloon.

What a glamorous thing, to live as a duke.

The egg beneath sat in its nest below Darius, completely still.

The minotaur guards by my balcony door had left. Outside, the sky was clear, blue, and enchanting. It had all the markings of a wonderful day.

I threw the blankets aside and stretched a bit. I made a mental note to talk to the tailor about building out my wardrobe a little, maybe even looking around to see if there was a local equivalent to denim.

* * *

You have been offered a quest:

Denim Denim Denim

Find a Vuldranni equivalent to Earth’s denim.

Reward for success: Blue Jeans!

Penalty for failure (or refusal): Khakis?

Yes/No

* * *

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I said.

Darius answered with a snort, then adjusted his position in his hammock.

Always great to get a bullshit quest to start the day.

This would normally be the part where I got dressed and ready for the day, but considering the chains made it impossible for me to get undressed, I was already dressed. And, I guess, as ready for the day as I could be. So I let out a loud and exasperated sigh that no one heard or paid attention to, and I stalked out of the room, ready to get things back on track.

6

It’s never that easy, is it?

A fog of group lethargy hovered over the entire hold. The events of the night seemed to take its toll on everyone involved. The guards were wiped, some of them nearly falling asleep on their feet.

The dwarven members of Coggeshall had, indeed, finished a shitload of work. They’d dug out an entire apartment complex from the rock. Several apartments were even finished, move-in ready as it were, before I’d made the dwarves stop to save my Master plan. Which meant we also had a giant hole down to the Master’s secret lair.

But all in all, the hold was basically devoid of movement at that stage of the game. People could finally rest.

Which meant I was alone.

Or at least as alone as I ever got in Coggeshall. Guards still saluted when I walked near, and I passed the occasional worker heading to do something. I couldn’t help but look at everyone with suspicion. Was the guard actually a Coggeshall guard, or some other form of shape-shifting monster here to eat my people? Did I even have people anymore? Or was I just surrounded by doppelgängers and mimics?

I stared at the hole, looking down into the Master’s lair below for a long time. Then I went to Nikolai’s office and sat behind his desk.

The place was a mess. I looked over at his unmade bed, where he’d probably been sleeping right until the Master came and killed him.

Could I have done something different?

Would I have done something different?

Would Nikolai have wanted me to do something different?

I always had the feeling Nikolai would welcome death. He wasn’t happy, and just went along out of pure spite and rage, more than anything else. It forced me to consider what I would do if placed in his position. If something ripped all my physical prowess and power from me, how would I react? Would I keep going?

I needed something to do rather than get pulled into questions I didn’t want to consider, so I started cleaning the office. First, I chucked the bed into the throne room. Then I emptied the drawers of the desk and set the ledgers to one side, hoping I’d be able to figure out everything Nikolai had been in charge of before Coggeshall started to fall apart.

The shiny pebbles I left in place. The pile in the corner seemed like a better tribute to Nikolai than anything I could make myself.

I swept the floor, dusted, and scrubbed everything until the office practically sparkled. It looked brand new. Then I sat down at the desk once again.

It didn’t make me feel any better. I was vaguely aware of an undercurrent of rage, and I wasn’t sure when it was going to erupt. It worried me.

I took a deep breath, and then I threw the desk against the wall with one arm, smashing the wood to mostly splinters.

The chairs were next. I smashed them apart until little bits of wood floated through the air.

Next I punched the wall right next to the single filing cabinet, instead of grabbing it. Even in the heat of the moment, I knew how annoying it would be to fix all that filing.

Blood dripped down from my split skin, staining the newly cleaned floor.

There was a polite knock at one of the two doors, the one leading to the not-the throne room side.

“Enter,” I called out, wiping the blood off my hand onto my pants. I saw that my knuckles had already healed over.

A guard poked his head in.

“Everything okay in here, your grace?” he asked.

I nodded.

The guard looked around a little, eyes a bit wide, then nodded and left.

I would have sat down again, but, well, no more chairs.

* * *

Cool Beans, you’ve leveled up the skill Advanced Furniture Destruction. Now you can break furniture without getting splinters in yourself. Soon, maybe you can get splinters in others!

* * *

It definitely felt like the damn game world knew to bring up notifications that would piss me off, but leave all the others minimized.

I wanted something else to break. I considered the file cabinet before my anger abated enough for me to take a breath and realize there was still a fucking game going on. I needed to make sure I was playing.

I’d let that slide in recent weeks, focusing on the real world. But the two were intertwined. I could hear Nikolai yelling at me to pay attention to the notifications, to the game. Not to get lost in the weeds of why the game worked the way it did, but to pay attention to what was happening right in front of me.

It was time to pull up the character sheet and give it a good once over. See where I could improve myself, see what I had available that I wasn’t using. I didn’t have Nikolai to be my minder, so I needed to find some fucking bootstraps and pull my own damn self up.

* * *

Montana Coggeshall - Lvl 30 Burgmann

* * *

Traits

Race: Royal Fallen

Height: 6’5”

Weight: 410 lbs

Eye Color: Hazel

Hair Color: Blonde

Renown: 525 - The Hero of Osterstadt

* * *

Statistics

HP: 910

STAM: n/a

MP: 54120

Active Effects: Frightful Presence

* * *

Attributes

Strength: 101

Agility: 36

Dexterity: 39

Constitution: 77

Wisdom: 24

Intelligence: 32

Charisma: 32

Luck: 37

* * *

Skills

Riding – improvised (Lvl 1)

Falling (Lvl 4)

Animal Handling (Lvl 5)

Investigate (Lvl 1)

Harvesting (Lvl 5)

Swords (Lvl 31)

Unarmed Combat (Lvl 11)

Axes (Lvl 42)

Large Weapon Throwing (Lvl 28)

Jump (Lvl 6)

Stealth (Lvl 6)

Improvised Weaponry (Lvl 5)

Swimming (Lvl 17)

Spears (Lvl 53)

Warhammers (Lvl 31)

Light Armor (Lvl 8)

Heavy Armor (Lvl 18)

Fishing (Lvl 9)

Carving (Lvl 6)

Crafting (Lvl 5)

Wooden Weapon-Making (Lvl 1)

Skinning (Lvl 11)

Detect Traps (Lvl 45)

Lumberjack (Lvl 21)

Intimidation (Lvl 10)

Surveillance (Lvl 1)

Birding (Lvl 1)

Archery (Lvl 26)

Tracking (Lvl 24)

Fletching (Lvl 10)

Shield (Lvl 45)

Internal Monster Butchering (Lvl 1)

Digging (Lvl 5)

Politicking (Lvl 1)

Weaving (Lvl 1)

Campfire Cooking (Lvl 1)

Foraging (Lvl 5)

Staring at the Ceiling (Lvl 1)

Small Weapon Throwing (Lvl 9)

Swinging (Lvl 1)

Blushing (Lvl 1)

Asking Stupid Question (Lvl 1)

Advanced Furniture Deconstruction (Lvl 2)

* * *

Abilities

Darkvision

The Sword of My Enemy is My Sword

Iron Will

Make An Entrance

Stand Tall

Regal Bearing

Rallying Cry

Art of Movement

Labyrinthine Recall

Detect Mimic

Indomitable

Swift Tracker

Veritasium

Detect Metals and Minerals

Tremorsense

Unbreakable Skeleton

Imperial Favor

House Scion

That’s not Pain

Battle Frenzy

Using Your Head

Surge of Strength

Mana Well

Books of Blood

True Sight

* * *

Boons

Powerful Build (Mister Paul) - You are bigger than you look. For all strength roles, you are counted as one size category larger than you actually are.

Regeneration (Mister Paul) - Outside of combat, your body will repair rather quickly. Given enough time, it’s possible you will heal from nearly any wound.

Gift of Gab (Mister Paul) - Should you encounter a language you do not understand, as long as you hear at least three words of it, you will understand it, and speak it, perfectly.

Monstrous Companion (Typhon) - You have been gifted a companion from the god Typhon. Your companion is immortal, though if reduced to 0 HP, he will be forced to return in a different form, chosen at the whim of Typhon. You may absorb your companion for a temporary boost to your abilities, but the boost will only last until Typhon sends another companion your way.

* * *

Indicium

Coggeshall Heraldic Achievement -complete - You are granted permission to use family buildings as you see fit, granted control of family funds, granted permission to use the family name, granted permission to name an heir, granted permission to expand the family, granted permission to bestow aspects of the Coggeshall Heraldic Achievement. You gain ten levels in the skill Shield. You gain the ability Imperial Favor. You gain the ability House Scion.

Eona’s Blessing of the Spear - Eona blesses you with +10 spear, +7 swimming, +5 fishing, +10% movement in water, +3 Agility

Choice, Burghman - Martial skills advance double. You take less damage from all attacks as long as you are protecting at least one non-combatant. Gain bonus XP from protecting others.

Indicium of Imperial Prerogative: Magic - You are permitted to perform magic within the Empire of Glaton

Royal - You are identified as being of Royal Blood, and gain the abilities Stand Tall and Regal Bearing

Dungeon of the Ancients Complete Indicium - You gain the following skills and/or abilities: Art of Movement, Labyrinthine Recall, Detect Mimic 20 ft, Detect Traps +45 levels, Swift Tracker, Veritasium, and Detect Metals and Minerals

Slayer: Death Bringer - As a living embodiment of death, know that you cause Frightful Presence. Your enemies now have a chance to be frightened when they are aware of you. You do an extra 10% damage to any creature below half health. Each death you cause brings you 1% of your health in return.

Slayer: Death Bearer - Congratulations on the slaughter. For each new entity you kill within the time limit, you receive an additional 5% XP. Your enemies now have a chance to be frightened even when they are not aware of you, but you are within 20 yards of them.

Slayer: Goblinbane - Congratulations on the slaughter. Goblins of all stripe fear you, and whisper your name in the dark. You gain additional XP for killing goblins, you do bonus visceral damage to goblins, greater chance for dismemberment and brutality when killing goblins.

Slayer: Vampire - You are able to withstand the charms of the vampire. You are immune to being turned. You do bonus damage to vampires. Vampires are vulnerable to your fear effects.

Typhon’s Mark of the Beast - Typhon blesses you with +10 intimidation, tremorsense, labyrinthine recall, and +5 Strength.

Zothys’ Blessing of the Protector - You gain 25 levels in shield and +3 Constitution.

Eona’s Blessing of the Hunt - You receive +20 skill levels in Archery, +15 skill levels in tracking, +10 skill levels in fletching, +10% harder to detect while moving, +3 Dex

Eona’s Blessing of the Blend - Within your holding, you and your followers will be able to blend breeds and races together that might not be viable in any other situation.

* * *

Titles

Imperial Duke of Coggeshall

Prince of Eonneque

Fürst of Vreijuirag

Ducal heir of Old Lattimoore

Count of Duhamel

Count of Helgand

Count of Dunnismeer

Count of Whitelock

Count of Michelgrove

Count of Daroonga

Count of Braewood

Count of Kingshills

Count of Wolveshire

All lesser titles minimized.

* * *

Languages

Goblin

Imperial Common

Mahrduhmese

Infernal

Hobgoblin Battle Cant

Night Goblin

Ursusian

Lutra

Northern Kobold

Carchedonian

Undermountain Common

Draconic

Grey Veveridia

Plains Centaurese

Koäðemaarian

* * *

Spells

Lifeform Identification (Lvl 1)

Heal Other (lvl 3)

Humas (lvl 1)

Basic Object Identification (Lvl 3)

Tame - Greater (Lvl 1)

ManaBomb (Lvl 1)

* * *

Plenty to look at, but none of it gave me concrete ideas about how to improve myself, or, as Mister Paul was always so keen to advise, to make myself stronger.

I had a shitload of potions I could use to boost my scores, basically across the board. But was that the move?

How was I supposed to know the fucking move? Who did I have left to talk to? Who could advise me?

I was left to my own devices. This was going to get ugly.

7

We held a funeral for those lost during Fiends’ Night. It was bittersweet. There were some touching moments, a few humorous anecdotes, and then, well, most everyone just went back to their lives.

Word must have gotten out about my morning smash rampage, because every person I interacted with that day treated me with kid-gloves. Everyone was incredibly nice to me, in a way that only made me more angry.

Which is why I wound up spending most of the day by myself, pacing back and forth along the walls outside. Not that I was directly looking for something to fight with, some poor monster to come along and feel my wrath so I could let some aggression out. But, you know, I certainly would have taken the chance to beat the shit out of something if the opportunity presented itself.

Night came, as it does, and I remained on the wall.

I watched the river for a long time, tracking the fish as they moved in and out of their little hidey-holes. I watched a raccoon watch me. It was hard to do much of anything. I felt paralyzed by the loss of Nikolai. And apparently I didn’t have anyone to move in and pick up my pieces.

“Taking it hard, eh?” Lee asked. He was the first person to speak to me in a few hours.

He sat on a crenelation, cleaning his nails with a small knife. His feet hung over the outside edge of the wall.

“I suppose,” I said.

“Death is tougher on us,” he replied. “Kind of isolated from it back home.”

“You were in a few wars, weren’t you? How’d you deal with it then?”

“A dash of acceptance, a dash of belief in an afterlife, a dash of bitters and some whiskey. A few Manhattans here and there, and the hope that I could live a life worth what they missed.”

“A life worth what they missed? I don’t get that.”

“Crude way of saying that I felt I needed to do more to make up for my friends being gone. I needed to make sure that their potential good deeds weren’t left out of the world.”

“Is this a ‘be a better man’ speech?”

“No. this is just me answering your question about how I dealt with death. You’ll have to find your own way to move past this. Or, you know, not. Not exactly the best option, but it’s there. You could just lose yourself in grief and rage, become bitter and whiney.”

“Like Nikolai.”

“Like Nikolai. He was not a happy man — I doubt he ever really understood how to move past Cleeve’s death. At least, that was what I took from our conversations. Even to the end, Nikolai believed he had failed Cleeve in life and death. That his inability to mold you into a great duke was a dramatic failure, and a stain on the legacy of his friend.”

“Well, shit. Now I feel even worse.”

“There’s no reason to. Nikolai put an immense amount of pressure on you and himself. But he also had no real metric to judge success or failure. Don’t forget how much we’ve accomplished in such a short time, a lot of it because you didn’t fit his bizarre mold.”

“I guess.”

“You built a community that has positive values. One that takes care of each other and any who come looking for help. That fights for the weak and doesn’t just oppress everyone they can. I was worried when I moved around Glaton initially. Outside the capital and some bigger cities, it’s nothing but old-school feudalism. Little fiefdoms run however the lord sees fit, with plenty of serfs ground down under the heels of so-called nobles. This place, Coggeshall, is different. And I think finding success here is going to be difficult, simply because it’s easier to fuck people over than help them. We’d probably be doing better if we turned away the ursus and the centaurs. We have to modify our hold to fit them — I have to rethink all our stairwells for the centaurs at the very least. It takes time and resources. And think of the XP you’d have gotten for having killed them all.”

“Seems pretty evil.”

“It is evil. I would leave if you did that. I imagine quite a few of us would leave if you started down that path. But that is still a path. I am honored to walk by your side as we take the tough road.”

“But what do I do now?”

“Pretty sure, more than anyone else, you can basically do whatever you want.”

“I don’t know what I want.”

He held up his hand and looked at his nails, then promptly bit a corner off of one and spit it out.

“Not sure I can help you with that, Montana of Coggeshall,” he said.

“I need a new chancellor,” I said.

“That you do.”

“Are you—”

“I am already the treasurer, and the de facto engineer of the place. I don’t need another job. I’m supposed to be retired.”

“You can’t come here and be retired when you’re, like, twenty again.”

“That brings up a good question: how old do you suppose we are?”

“You mean—“

“Am I my age from life one plus life two? Or just life two?”

“Physically—“

“That’s the easy answer, Montana.”

“I’m a fan of easy answers.”

“I know. Which is why you want me to be chancellor.”

“I know you’re you.”

“Do you?”

I flashed on a minute of true sight and looked him up and down. Nothing changed. For giggles, I glanced around.

Nothing seemed out of order.

“Seems like you’re you,” I said.

“I think I am.”

“That’s probably what a doppelgänger would say.”

“Nah, a dopplegänger would work harder at convincing you.”

“Who would you pick?”

“If I was a dopplegänger? You.”

“For chancellor. Why me?”

“You’re the duke—“

“You want to be a duke? I could—“

“Absolutely not. And if we could remove all the political complications that would arise, I’d probably nominate Eliza.”

“That’d be a shit-storm.”

“Indeed. But she does understand the political side of things better than anyone else I know.”

“Comes from being born into it.”

He nodded. “But she’s smart too. And it’s her career. Her specialty.”

“Skeld?”

“An interesting choice, but then you’re just surrounding yourself with your friends. You need a chancellor who will challenge you.”

“Skeld challenges me.”

“Skeld gives you sass. I doubt he ever really pushes his own opinions above yours.”

“Well, fuck.”

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Then he swung his legs around and hopped off the wall, sliding his slim knife back into its sheath.

“I’ll think on names,” he said. “You focus on moving forward. Whatever it is you want to do, do it. Put your entire self behind it. Your people will follow. You just need to pick a path.”

Lee patted me on the shoulder and sauntered off down the stairs, whistling something that sounded like a birdcall.

8

Somewhere in the middle of the afternoon, amid my clock-less existence, I called a meeting of the Coggeshall council.

The mood was subdued. Everyone looked rather morose, and kept a keen eye on me as if I might explode into a rage-fueled orgy of destruction at any moment. I didn’t get the feeling that there was much sadness in the room — it just didn’t seem that anyone missed Nikolai. At least, not by the council members. He had been abrasive in his last few months, and apparently that had far-reaching effects.

I sat at the head of the table in what had usually been Nikolai’s spot. Skeld and Lee were on either side of me. Ragnar sat at the foot of the table, with Tarryn at his left and Timurlan the lifemage on his right. Harmut, looking exhausted and with extremely red eyes, sat in the middle, as he was one of the last to arrive. Nathalie, also looking pretty ragged, sat midway down, still in her armor. For good measure, I was too, with the bonus of a large green chain spooled out behind me. Baltu the snowbold was sitting across from Harmut, struggling with a piece of surprisingly tough dried meat. I was a little concerned he was going to rip a tooth out.

“Uh,” I said, taking out Nikolai’s notebook and tapping it on the table, “not exactly sure how I should do this. I guess, um, this meeting is adjourned.”

“That means it’s over,” Skeld said softly.

“Ignore what I said, we’re starting now. First topic: obviously Nikolai can no longer be chancellor. So, uh, we need a new one because I’ve got little to no idea what I’m doing. Or, uh, what we are doing. Any ideas?”

Silence. Suddenly everyone was all too eager to look away from me.

“Do I have to force one of you to do it?” I asked.

More scurrilous looks passing between the members of the council.

“Beggin’ pardon, your grace,” Harmut said, “but I would think those sittin’ here’re all jobbed up. Givin’ one of us that position’ll just mean you got another position to fill. One’n might be harder than chancellor.”

“If you don’t want the job, just say so.”

“I don’t want it,” Harmut said.

“Me neither,” Nathalie said.

A quick chorus followed, with everyone but Ragnar agreeing they had no desire for the gig. Ragnar merely smiled.

“I’d take it,” Ragnar said softly. “But you wouldn’t want me to do that. I’m not good with numbers.”

“Or remembering things,” Skeld offered.

“One time,” Ragnar snapped back. “I forget your sister’s name one time, and—“

“And my mother’s, and your cousin’s. And how many times have I needed to bring two spears along because I knew you’d forget yours?”

“Sometimes I lost it. That’s different.”

“Still not the best trait for a chancellor,” Nathalie said.

Ragnar just nodded.

“Noted,” I said. “So no one in here. Who else we got?”

This time, though everyone was silent, there was a palpable sense of relief. But still no answers.

“Great,” I said, “love the hustle. Let’s move on, because we’re getting nowhere with the chancellor stuff. Lee, Harmut, Baltu, how long until we get back to work on NorthFort?”

“Is that its name?” Ragnar asked.

I flipped through Nikolai’s notebook until I found an open page, and I scribbled down a note about naming the north wall and fort.

“Working title,” I said. “I guess we’re accepting names for the northern hold as well as for chancellor.”

“We can get moving soon, your grace,” Baltu said. “I think, and know I can really only speak for the kobold detachment, but it would be best to have at least a day, maybe two, of rest before the march across the valley.”

“If we use Fritz?” I asked.

“We could leave sooner, I suppose, but I wouldn’t expect to be up and running on the fort for at least,” Baltu looked over at Harmut, then at Lee, “a week?”

I nodded and scribbled a note in my notebook.

“Nathalie,” I said, “how did we do on Fiends’ Night?”

“Not as bad as I feared,” she said, “nor as well as I hoped. The main losses, obviously, were those engaged with the Master. Unfortunately, the two survivors we had were not willing to stay alive, and both managed to kill themselves in their cells.”

“How the fuck—“

“They beat themselves against the rock wall until they died,” she said, her face impassive. “We could not intervene because they had also jammed the locks shut. Zoey is currently working to get the cells opened and repaired.”

I sighed. “Well, fuck. The Master, he implied he left a similar group back in Osterstadt, another Master and another group of supplicants, all waiting for some hidden order to rise and take over.”

“Do we give any shits about Osterstadt?” Nathalie asked, her impassive facade dropping just a little.

“I’m betting the Empire wants it back,” I said, “probably a bigger pain in the ass with one of those Master things inside. Which I’m willing to bet is that fuckhead, whatshisname?”

“Donner,” Skeld said.

I snapped my finger and pointed at Skeld. “Right. That fuckhead Donner. We could go in, surgical strike his ass, and, I mean, I’m not really sure past that.”

“A surgical strike?” Nathalie asked. “While I am not exactly familiar with the terminology, I have a sense of what you mean. I do know, however, that it would be unwise for any member of Coggeshall to attempt much of anything in Osterstadt at present. This issue is theirs to deal with until—“

The door opened, and Eliza Northwoods stepped into the conference room, trying hard to look like she wasn’t out of breath from running. She smoothed her dress down and tucked an errant hair or two behind her ear before taking a seat near Harmut.

“Apologies, your grace,” she said. “I was, um, am late. I am late.”

I waved her excuse away. “Sudden meeting. No problem with being late. We’re talking about Osterstadt. But we are looking for nominations for a new chancellor and a name for the fort and wall to the north. That pretty much catches you up, I think.”

“Why are we talking about Osterstadt?”

“The duke was told there’s another Master there,” Ragnar said.

“What kind of master?” Eliza asked.

“Same kind we just had visit us,” Tarryn said.

“That is not the best news.”

“Let Osterstadt deal with it,” Nathalie repeated. “They wished to push the Empire out—“

“Your opinion has been noted,” Skeld said sharply. “Anyone else?”

“It could grow to be a problem for us,” Tarryn said. “Just thinking how easily the first Master spread his tendrils to here. The new Master in Osterstadt could do the same.”

“Can we find out what the fuck the Master was?” I asked.

“I can look into that,” Timurlan said.

“Get Arno to help,” I said.

“The Legion warmancer?”

“That’s him. He’s researched monsters, might have a line on something. And Yuri, he’s a monster hunter, and, well, I’m sure you know how to do this better than myself.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Food stocks?” Skeld asked. “How do we look for the winter?”

“Good,” Timurlan said. “Just as good as two days ago. More or less. Consumption was not as high as I worried over Fiends’ Night, so I think we can continue on without rationing. Provided, of course, that his grace does not usher in a new group of residents in the coming days. Or weeks. Or until spring.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I replied with a smile.

“Thank you, your grace.”

“How are we splitting the guard for NorthFort?” Skeld asked, looking over at Nathalie.

“I, uh, I thought the kobolds were going en masse,” she replied, eyeing Baltu.

“We will,” Baltu said. “Will the rolegurdaüdi be coming with us, though?”

“I can speak to them,” Timurlan said, “but they seem to think this is, at least, their winter home.”

“Ah,” Baltu replied. “Then I worry the kobolds will not be enough to provide defense and construction.”

“The rolegurdaüdi did that much?” I asked.

“I believe they were instrumental in keeping the centaurs away, at the very least. And likely made most goblins think twice.”

“Did you have much in the way of goblin interference?”

“They did a lot of watching us, but no actual encounters.”

“Given your recent experiences with the goblins, your grace,” Nathalie said, “perhaps it is time we have a conversation about what to do about them. They seem to be getting more aggressive.”

“If I were a betting kobold,” Baltu began slowly, “I would imagine they are facing genuine issues without a steady supply of sacrifices. It would not surprise me to see them in a measure of desperation.”

“Should we discuss the weather?” Lee asked.

“I mean,” I said, “I think we were still a bit on the goblins, but if you want to shift to a more meteorological bent, go for it.”

“Just, well, it snows quite a bit around here, and construction in the snow is not exactly ideal. Concrete won’t harden right, mortar won’t set, and no one enjoys being outside all day and sleeping in cheap tents.”

“Calling them cheap tents is generous,” Skeld said. “I hate having to stay out at the Northern wall even when the weather is nice.”

“I know I am not, um, the most militarily minded here,” Eliza said, “but if this wall is to do any good, mustn’t it be in place and guarded prior to the spring campaign season?”

“There’s a campaign season?” I asked.

“It just follows the weather,” Lee said. “Same reason you don’t want to be outside building anything in the winter, you don’t want to be marching and setting up camps and the like in the winter.”

I nodded. There was a good point there, both in what Lee and Eliza had said.

“I find I agree with Lady Northwoods,” Timurlan said. “Again, I have little knowledge of war, but it would be much less hindrance once spring comes.”

“Though,” Skeld said, leaning back in his chair, “there would be more run-off in spring. The water might provide a barrier—“

“Might,” Timurlan replied. “Only one person in this room has spent a full year in this valley. We have no idea how the weather shifts in the spring.”

“I hesitate to admit how much time I spent underground,” Baltu said. “Or, rather, within my quarters with my snout buried in a book. I was not, um, well, it was not a, or, what I would call a traditional living arrangement.”

“You’re trying to say that you have no idea,” I said.

“That is the simple way of explaining it, yes. I was a prisoner in all but name, and my leash rarely extended to the out of doors. Vreggork, though, he could shed more light on the topic than myself.”

“Ragnar,” I said, “go get Vreggork please.”

Ragnar hopped out of his chair and raced away.

“Nathalie,” I said, “do you think we need the wall finished before the spring?”

She looked at her hands, and then flipped a few pages in a small notebook, clearly thinking through the issue.

“I think it would be better if we were prepared prior to the spring,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “It is unclear who might come from the north — we might find it nothing more than the centaurs who seem to have no desire to push into our valley. But on the other hand, I believe you mentioned you did not wind up on friendly terms with the centaurs when you last interacted with them.”

“I may have wound up annoying them.”

“They named you an enemy of the herd,” Skeld said.

“‘Annoying’ may not have been the most exact of words.”

“You think?” Skeld asked.

“Might want to get that wall built, then,” Nathalie said. “And probably get at least a few people up there to stand guard.”

“Against the centaurs?”

“Or whatever they send our way. I seem to remember Nikolai talking about the centaur sending behemoths against those they find, as you put it, annoying.”

“So you think we need to go full-bore on building the fort and finishing things there?”

“I do,” Nathalie said.

“What say the council?” I asked.

Harmut nodded. “I vote to finish as soon as possible.”

“We are courting disaster building in the depths of winter,” Timurlan said. “The wall is mostly finished. We merely need to move troops there when the thaw comes to hold our position.”

“Deciding on the division of our forces is another question to consider,” Nathalie said. “I have little information regarding the extent of our fortifications on the northern border—“

“I’ll get you the plans,” Lee said. “Sorry about that — just been busy.”

Nathalie gave a terse smile. “Thank you. Then I can put together some potential numbers for what I believe we will need. But I stress that we need a finished structure if it is to provide a real defense to the valley.”

“Got it,” I said. “Any other objections to continuing construction through the winter?”

I made sure to look right at Baltu, considering that we were likely going to send mostly kobolds.

He shook his head, his delicate white feathers moving softly in response.

Just then, the door opened, and Ragnar walked in with another snowbold, Vreggork.

“What’s the spring like here?” I asked. “In the valley?”

“Is like, uh,” Vreggork started, then paused, “like spring. Is wet. Much rain, windy storms.”

“Do the rivers get bigger?”

“Yes. Sometimes. Some rivers. River near here is bigger. A bit. Other rivers, not so much.”

“Is there a fighting season?”

“No. Fight all time.”

“One more vote for finishing up construction now,” Nathalie said.

“Noted,” I said. “Any big objections?”

Timurlan did not look pleased with the idea, but he also didn’t have anything more to say.

“Okay, so, let’s get the construction going, with the aim to be done before spring,” I said. “I’ll talk to Fritz about flying everyone over. Leave tomorrow?”

Baltu’s eyes went a little wide, but then he nodded.

“It can be done,” he finally said. “With Essie.”

“I think that should be fine,” I said, “unless you’ve got an issue with that Harmut?”

“No problem,” Harmut said.

“And Nathalie, make sure there’s a contingent of guards going with them,” I added.

Nathalie nodded, making a note in her book.

“And now we’re adjourned,” I said with a smile, looking over at Skeld.

“No one’s going to mention the chains?” Ragnar asked. “Maybe someone should—”

“I’m taking care of the chains,” I lied.

Ragnar frowned, but then gave me a mild nod. He didn’t believe me, but he knew it wasn’t a topic I wanted to address.

9

I went and had a quick conversation with Fritz. He made it quite clear that he’d found Fiends’ Night boring and wanted something exciting to do, and I told him he likely had a few days of intense Air Fritz business coming. He seemed to stand taller when I called him Air Fritz, as if he understood the business aspect of the deal and liked that he was a valued member of the community.

I’d had little experience with creatures I would call monsters, but from the rolegurdaüdi and Fritz, it really seemed like they wanted a sense of belonging. Of family. Rather small sample size, though, so I reassured myself that not all monsters were looking for love, and got my butt back to work.

Someone had replaced the furniture I’d broken in Nikolai’s office. And they’d cleaned up. I felt a little residual guilt over things — I’d never be keen on others cleaning up my messes. Especially messes I’d made by being a petulant asshat.

I sat down at the new desk and pulled out Nikolai’s notebook.

I thumbed through page after page, filled with notes and things. Then I looked through the desk, but it was as empty as the notebook was full. Finally, I found a short pencil that had dropped behind the filing cabinet. I pulled out some blank paper from the filing cabinet and got to work.

Like, you know, actual work. Looking at numbers and being confused at how the math worked. Or, in some cases, didn’t.

I pulled out ledgers and looked through them, seeing all our stores reflected on paper. I flipped through reports and inventories, impressed at the level of detail Timurlan was providing, offering up what he expected in terms of, like, macro breakdowns. How much protein, carbohydrates, and all that. What sorts of vitamins we were going to be low in, things like that.

Zoey was not on Timurlan’s level. Well, to be fair, no one was. But Zoey’s reports were especially less thorough. It was more just a general sense of where we stood. But if I was reading it correctly, we were going to run out of blacksmithing materials in the very near future. We had no heavy stocks of any metal except mithril, which wasn’t exactly ideal for all the basic building projects we needed to complete. Since, according to Harmut’s last report, we were about to run out of nails.

I scribbled a note about making mithril nails.

And then I made a note to ask about screws. And bolts. Had they entered regular use?

After an hour of mind-numbing paperwork, I wanted to throw the new desk against the wall too.

Instead, I went outside and beat against a training dummy until I was steaming in the cold air.

Then I had some food and returned to the paperwork.

I started to understand why Nikolai was always so annoyed. There was just so much to put together, and so much to parse. None of it really made sense to me, and all I had to go on was what other people were willing to write down.

According to the woodcutters, we had huge stockpiles of lumber. But the carpenters said they didn’t have near enough lumber. The folks running the sawmill weren’t reporting shit. Timurlan said we had enough food, but did we have enough food for the things that were going to become our food? Did the cows have enough grain or grass or whatever they ate to make it through the winter? Did the kitchen think we had enough food? I had lots of reports from Timurlan, but only a few old requests from the kitchen. I didn’t even know who our head chef was...

I maybe flipped the desk over.

Then I went and picked everything back up. The desk was barely even broken. You’d probably not even notice that one edge was missing. Well, it wasn’t exactly missing, it just happened to be mostly splinters in a vague pile near the wall.

I slumped back into the chair and looked at the marginally ruined desk. I was angry, that much was obvious. And that was dangerous. I needed to sort my shit out before I got someone hurt.

The papers were still all over the floor.

I didn’t want to pick them up, so I summoned prinkies and had them do it.

The furry little guys raced around and then presented a stack to me, but it was completely out of order. I just set it on the desk and then strode out of the room like I had somewhere to be, followed by my prinky coterie.

10

The weather was rather shitty the following day, but Baltu yelled and cajoled until the construction crew was in the air under Fritz. It took three trips to get everyone up north. I watched Baltu and Lee head out on the last flight, with Lee giving me a hearty wave until the clouds swallowed him up.

I stood in the snow for a while longer, just watching the clouds.

“Your grace,” Eliza said.

I turned to see her looking up into the clouds, covered in thick blue robes lined with heavy white fur.

“Lady Northwoods,” I replied. “Good morning to you. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Before I say anything further,” she said, “may I just express my condolences on the loss of your friend, Nikolai.”

“Thank you.” I wished there was more I could say to that. A thank you just felt so feeble, given everything.

“This sounds, I mean, I know how it probably sounds, but Nikolai acted as your, well, secretary in addition to your chancellor. So there are those who wish to have an audience with your grace, but they do not know how to go about making that happen.”

“So I need a secretary.”

“It could make things easier for you, your grace. Though—“

“And you came to me with someone in mind?”

“There are many who came from Osterstadt and are looking for a reason to remain. Though I will say this is only my suggestion; you might certainly make your own selection based on what you think you need. But Hugo Fox is an older man who comes from a landless noble family. He served as an archivist in Glaton prior to coming to Osterstadt at the behest of Lord Hunston, who sought to establish a library in the city. I would be happy to arrange a meeting for you, if you like.”

I stopped myself before I said that I was enjoying being outside. Looking around, there was really no one out here who didn’t have to be, except for me.

“Second floor dining area,” I said. “Table near the back or something.”

“I would imagine they will find you if you are there,” Eliza said, giving me a quick curtsy before heading back toward MountainHome.

I watched her go for a moment, or, more, I just looked through her. It wasn’t my intention, I just couldn’t understand why she was setting me up with a secretary. This guy had to be picked for a reason — was he in her corner? Or worse, in her father’s?

I was still holding out hope that Eliza had Coggeshall’s best interests at heart, but I could still hear Nikolai’s warnings echoing in my head. She was a political animal, probably one of the sharper ones out there, at least so far as I’d been told. And I barely realized a game was going on, let alone knew how to play.

What I needed were spies. I needed people to find shit out for me.

Nikolai had some. I just had to figure out who they were and get them to work for me.

Unless, you know, the Master had killed them all for knowing too much. And if they managed to survive the Master, were they worth finding? They hadn’t even seen the Master operating under their noses.

This would not be simple. There was nothing simple about my stupid job any more.

For a longer moment than I’d care to admit, I thought about making a run for it, just jumping the wall and disappearing into the wilds.

Instead, I trudged back inside and headed to the second floor cafeteria.

11

I’d already tucked into my dinner when an older man walked up to me and gave me a curt little bow.

He was painfully thin, with half-moon spectacles perched precariously on a small nose.

Almost on instinct, I stood up and held out my hand.

I realized I towered over the guy. He was just over waist level, but he grabbed my wrist confidently and gave it a pump.

“Hugo Fox, your grace,” he said.

I sat back down quickly, wondering how old this guy was.

He dragged his chair out, but then hopped up adroitly and settled into the seat.

“I understand you have need of a secretary,” he said.

“That’s right,” I said. “You want the job?”

“Is this the extent of the interview?”

“It could be.”

“Not very picky, your grace?”

“Not at the moment.”

Hugo’s eyes narrowed. “I have done many jobs for many people in many places. What is it you think you need from someone like me?”

“First off, you should know I have almost no clue what I’m supposed to be doing. But my guess is that as my secretary, your job would mostly be to help me do my job to the best of my ability.”

“What kind of duke is it you are looking to be? Or, more simply, what do you see as your job? Hunting and fishing? Questing and exploring? Fighting and conquering? Drinking and whoring?”

“Are those the only options?”

Hugo frowned. “Those are the typical pursuits of the dukes in Glaton.”

“I’m somewhat atypical.”

“A common refrain from the nobility.”

“Aren’t you a noble?”

“We can smell our own. Now, what is your chosen path?”

“Well, my goal is to make Coggeshall a safe place to live.”

“That’s a fool’s errand.”

“And I’m a fool. Perfect match.”

“You are serious in this regard?”

“Yep.”

“Then I suppose I should mark you down for fighting and conquering.”

“Could it be fighting and fishing?”

“Not likely. Fighting tends to lead to conquering, which leads to fighting, which leads to…you get the picture.”

“I suppose I could just conquer the entire world and then go fishing.”

“In that case, I would suggest finding a younger secretary.”

“I don’t want to conquer anything. I just want to keep this valley and make it a good place. A safe place.”

He pulled his glasses down and carefully wiped them on a silk cloth that had materialized from somewhere.

“It is quite obvious you need help,” he said. “Who was your previous secretary, and what happened to him?”

“You’d be my first.”

Hugo perched his glasses back on his nose. I noticed he never actually looked through the glasses, which made me wonder why he bothered with them in the first place.

“I will take the job,” he finally said.

“You know,” I said, “I have to admit that I admire how you changed this from me interviewing you to you interviewing me.”

“I have a unique set of skills, your grace, all of which I will bring to bear to service you as your secretary.”

“Then welcome aboard,” I said.

He gave me a terse smile and pulled a small notebook out of a side satchel.

“Now,” he said, “shall we begin?”

“Begin what?”

“Oh, your grace, this is going to be a long journey together, is it not?”

“Seems like it, being that I’m already confused as fuck.”

“What is it you are trying to do?”

“When?”

“Now.”

“Eat dinner?”

“I meant in the broader sense.”

“Uh, we have, um, you mean Coggeshall?”

“You are Coggeshall.” He sighed and hopped off his chair. “I am going to get tea. While I am away, please think upon what you aim to accomplish tomorrow.”

I nodded, and watched the little man stroll away. His walking stick provided a soft staccato to his departure.

Hugo made some good points. That didn’t mean I agreed with his points, but I could see that they were good ones. I did need a plan — not just for the following day, but in general. Though not too general. I think I was coming off a bit, well, naïve to think I could just say something as simple as I wanted to make Coggeshall a safe place and think it would become reality. Nikolai had understood what I meant, though, because, and this was a lightbulb moment for me, that was what he and Cleeve wanted. I was never consulted on the plan, other than a blanket agreement. I just went along with things because they seemed like the right things to do. In a really dangerous fucking world, who wouldn’t want to have a safe home?

But was that what I still wanted? Or was that the extent of what I wanted? What did the path to that look like? What were the issues blocking us from proclaiming safety? In theory, we could just bolt the doors and live inside MountainHome in perpetuity. Given what we’d done so far with indoor farming, we could just live like it was Fiends’ Night forever. In theory, at least.

We’d probably get around to killing each other after a few weeks of not being able to leave. I definitely needed sunlight after the Fiends’ Night lockdown. And today there were quite a few people taking walks outside, despite the inclement weather.

I wanted a safe home. I wanted a place that wasn’t beset by constant fighting. I’d prefer to not have to fight at all — I’d be happy to work on decreasing my predilection for violence instead of working on increasing my violent efficiency. What we needed was stability. We needed to just get things, in the larger sense, to work. People needed jobs, beds, and hot meals.

After a moment or two, Hugo returned, balancing a mug of tea on his walking stick. He slid the tea onto the table and then hopped into his seat. He slurped his tea.

“Bit hot,” he said with a wince. “Now, have you figured everything out?”

“Seems a bit much to ask,” I replied, “but I have given things some thought.”

“Excellent. How would you like me to help you?”

“I need a chancellor. Can you find one of those?”

“Potentially.”

“Great. That’s a start. Also, I’d like to make sure we’re going to hit production goals to keep everyone housed and fed through the winter.”

“Who would you like to speak to about that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Excellent. Anything else?”

“I want a meeting with Nathalie Glaton, Alexander Czubakowski, and me.”

“Who are they?”

“Head of the Coggeshall Guard and the local Legion Commander.”

Hugo nodded, making a few notes. “When?”

“Whenever.”

“I will endeavor to get it set before end of day.”

“Great.”

“Is that the extent of things?”

“For the moment, I think.”

“Excellent.”

“Maybe also reach out to Eliza, let her know your position. She seemed to think there were people who wanted to speak with me.”

“Do you intend to speak with them?”

“Sure.”

“Excellent,” he said with a little twirl of his pencil. “I will make those meetings happen, your grace.”

“Thank you.”

He gave me the barest sort of smile and then hopped off his chair and left me with his tea.

12

By the time I’d finished eating and bussed my dishes, Hugo returned.

“Your grace,” he said, “if you might follow me.”

He turned and walked without waiting for me to say anything. I followed, curious.

We went down the stairs and through a hallway, and then we stopped at the door to the throne room.

He gestured inside. “Duke Ginsburg awaits you.”

“Oh,” I said. “Okay, thanks.”

He gave me that little frown again, and opened his notebook.

I went inside.

The Duke was looking up at the ceiling, but he turned around quickly when he heard the door open.

“Your grace,” he said with a slight bow.

I mirrored the bow, and the sentiment. “Your grace.”

“Always a bit of a thing when two of equal rank meet, eh?” he asked.

“I guess, you’re the first duke I’ve really spent time with.”

“Oh? Then you must make your way to Glaton at some point. Especially during the summer when the balls are in swing.”

“Not sure I need to be around swinging balls.”

“Bah, a young man like yourself? You would nary get a night of sleep. Spend all your time wining, dining, dancing and romancing. I daresay the Empire would see you married in a single season.”

“Maybe once things have settled down here.”

“Are you coming to make your vote?”

“Do I need to do that in person?”

“No, the rules allow you to nominate someone to hold your seat in the senate.”

“Do you prefer to go?”

“Depends, really. Time was, I would spend most sessions in Glaton. There is a grandeur to our capital that no other city can match. A cosmopolitan feeling I find a longing for when I am surrounded by the muck of my holdings. Nothing like spending the nights embroiled in a hunt under the heavy rain to make one long for unlimited hot water and well-cooked treats. There’s a small shop right at the edge of Old Town that sells cookies all through the night. Delicious things. Almost makes braving the dark worth it.”

“I’ll have to go sometime.”

“Indeed. I mean no offense by what it is I am about to ask, but I wonder if, perhaps, you have little experience with being a liegelord.”

“Uh, none. And I’m not sure how I’d be offended.”

“Some find it, erm, belittling to have their prowess, education, or experience questioned.”

“I have plenty to learn. Why do you ask?”

“I heard one of those who perished in this recent fiasco was your chancellor. Is that the case?”

“It is,” I said carefully, wondering where this conversation was going.

“And I have also heard — you must excuse me, the halls of every holding are plastered with ears and gossips — you are hurting for viable candidates, yes?”

“That is mostly true. I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare chancellor?”

“Interestingly enough,” he said, “I do.”

Of course he did. I smiled and tamped down feelings of manipulation.

“Naturally, it is not as cut and dry as I would like it to be. It is not a trained adjudicator or even someone who has been a chancellor in the past—”

“Really selling them.”

“It is a tricky situation, but if you were willing to take them on, you would be doing me a rather prodigious favor.”

“Not the Northwoods boy, right?”

“Ah, no. No, young Justin needs to stay with me for another few years. Got into a bit of trouble with his father. And yourself, if I remember.”

“A bit, yeah.”

“I am doing my best to educate the lad in the ways of our world. Seemed to forget his duties. That there is something larger he serves than himself. Suffice to say, it is not the Northwoods lad. Rather, she is the daughter of a lower-ranking member of a rather powerful house. She seeks to improve herself in the vein of managing lands and titles without her own familial ties becoming a problem.”

“She has a problematic household?”

“All the prominent houses have their own unique and delightful issues, especially with each other, don’t they? But she is, well, her family entrusted her to my care with the idea I educate her. However, she has matured to such a point she no longer needs a guardian. Now she needs experience. That is something my holdings cannot give her, being that they are too complex for a novice. And besides, I doubt I would manage much of anything if I did not have my own chancellor in place. He keeps my lands moving in the most wonderful way. Chancellor openings are nearly as rare as chancellors. And yet, here you are.”

“How lucky for me that you just so happened to bring her along.”

“I had been speaking with Lord Northwoods about putting her into a position with him, but he is rather fond of being hands on with his properties and businesses. That, and a county does not have the same complexities as a duchy, does it?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh? I thought you had a few counties.”

“I, uh, do, it’s just—”

“Right, your chancellor took care of them. Obviously. My blunder. Regardless, she is available. And it would be quite the favor to me.”

He adroitly ran a large coin across his knuckles before disappearing it back into a pocket.

A girl from a major family here to learn. It sounded like a second Eliza. Eliza had been pretty damn useful — would it be bad to have another one around? Maybe. I could see quite a few issues arising from this. But still…

“I hesitate to pressure you,” he said, clearly seeing my own hesitation, “but she is very gifted. With the right cards played, you would likely find her family indebted to you as well.”

“And if I play the wrong cards?”

“I suppose there is always the possibility you would make powerful enemies.”

“Fantastic. Just the thing to really push me over into saying yes.”

“She marks an opportunity for you, Duke Coggeshall. I ask you to think of the good of all your holding before you deny her the chance to make Coggeshall a better place than either you or I would be able.”

“If I say no?”

“Then she returns to her family and finds her own way through her life.”

“Which isn’t exactly a terrible life, right?”

“Hardly. Likely a dull life, given her situation, but certainly a nice one by nearly any metric save adventure, excitement, or meaning.”

“You are not making this easy.”

“And why should I? Make a choice, duke.”

“Let’s give her a try.”

“Fantastic,” Ginsburg said with a clap of his meaty hands. He flipped the heavy coin in the air over to me.

I caught it from the air and slipped it into my pocket like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You are a lifesaver,” he said.

“Wait, why?”

“Oh, I merely told the girl’s mother I would find a position for her daughter. Would have been a mark on my unblemished record were I to fail, eh? Slight shift in topics, but have you any thoughts on who might best fill the Imperial throne?”

“None,” I said.

“Might I bend your ear toward a friend of mine?”

I took a deep breath and sighed it out. I had a feeling I was about to experience the Glaton version of the time-share pitch.

“Sure,” I said. “Let’s hear it.”

13

Duke Ginsburg could really talk. A lot. He really didn’t seem to care if I was actually listening, because I’m damn sure my eyes glazed over after the first ten minutes extolling the virtues of his ArchDuke, Karl Lodbrook. Karl was a wunderkind. Tall. Kind. Smart. Generous. He was tolerant of magic. He wanted to push the boundaries of the Empire back out to where they had been in the best of days. He was going to make new roads everywhere and really work on civilizing the western side of the Empire. Even send exploratory parties into the unknown. Map the Emerald Sea and the Great Erg.

After a solid hour of smiling and nodding, my head started to hurt. But Ginsburg finally reached the end of his schpeil and plastered a huge smile across his face.

“Sounds like an incredible man,” I said.

“I think Karl Lodbrook is just what our Empire needs,” Ginsburg replied.

“I will certainly consider him.”

“That is all I ask.”

He thumped me on the shoulder, and winced as his hand hit the chains I had wrapped around my body. He raised an eyebrow.

“Wearing armor now?” he asked.

I pulled my cloak to the side to reveal what was underneath.

“Bit of yes, bit of no,” I said. “The chains are bit stuck right now.”

“Ah. No locksmith here?”

“You know, that’s a fantastic question.”

He just gave me a strange look, like he didn’t quite understand how I wouldn’t know that. Then he smiled, nodded, thanked me once more and left.

Hugo leaned his head in.

“Your grace,” he said, “Commander Glaton and Captain Czubakowski here for you.”

“Now?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, pulling the door open and ushering Nathalie and Alexander in.

“Hugo,” I called out. “Ragnar, Skeld, and Tarryn.”

“Your hirð members? What of them?”

“Get them here for, um, the meeting after this one.”

“The meeting with Lord Northwoods is after this.”

“The what?”

“Meeting with Lord Northwoods.”

“I—”

“I can get them for after that meeting, if it pleases your grace.”

“Sure, but—”

The door closed. Nathalie and Alexander looked at me, waiting.

“Good evening,” I said.

“Did we miss something in our meeting this morning?” Nathalie asked.

“Did I miss something in the meeting this morning?” Alexander asked, a smile on his face.

“Uh, no, and yes,” I said. “To both of you. Mainly I want the two of you to have regular meetings to make sure everyone is on the same page.”

“I feel as if we have things well in hand,” Nathalie said, her face impassive.

“Yes, well—“

“I can tell when I am not wanted,” Alexander said, standing up straight.

“Hey now! No one said that.”

“I think—“Nathalie started.

“Shut the fuck up,” I said firmly. I was definitely not shouting.

Maybe a little bit shouty.

“Both of you,” I said. “You need to work together. Nathalie, I know you weren’t exactly keen on how things went during Fiends’ Night, but you can blame me for the miscommunications there. Also, we have lots of new faces in the hold. I think it would be wise to see if any of them want to join the Guard. I think Alexander could help you see what kind of qualified candidates we can find.”

“Am I allowed to recruit from your holding as well?” Alexander asked.

Nathalie shot him a dirty look.

“Being that we’re rather small,” I said, “and trying to grow, how about you hold off on that for now?”

“Not a problem,” Alexander said, then quickly added, “your grace.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “And at least weekly meetings between the two of you. I want things to start running smoothly. Hopefully we have the winter to train and work on things like unit cohesion and, um, battlefield readiness and all sorts of other words that are vaguely combat-related.”

“Do you expect something to happen this spring?” Nathalie asked.

“Nothing specific, but—“

“I will put together a training regimen,” she said, with a nod, then turned on her heel and began walking away.

“I can help with that,” Alexander called after her.

“I look forward to it,” she said, and left the hall.

Alexander and I stood there for a moment, just the two of us.

“She’s pleasant,” Alexander said.

“Her brother recently died,” I said.

“He was a friend of mine. I remember it well.”

“I think she’s having some trouble with me not letting her get revenge.”

“Ah.”

“And I’m starting to wonder if she’s not exactly the right person for the position she’s filling.”

“The horrors of leadership.”

“I’m not very good at this shit.”

“Bah, who is? At least you try. There are plenty of nobles who have lands and people beholden to them, who see the problems inherent in leading others, and they choose a different path. Some run, some grip with an iron hand. But you are, well, you are trying. And that is admirable.”

“You lead—“

“Ah, but I lead in the middle. There are plenty above me who tell me what to do, and if I choose to settle to the lowest denominator, I can merely do exactly what they tell me. Granted, that’s not much of a life, but it is a safety valve of sorts.”

“The Emperor could tell me what to do.”

“Very true, your grace. Though that does require an emperor to be in place, eh?”

“Maybe a little.”

“As well, it would require said emperor to realize you might need guidance, as the emperor has no vested interest in what it is you are doing. Usually, the emperor only notices when there’s a rather remarkable fuckup.”

“I’ve been told that’s a good name for me.”

“Stop playing the fool. It cloys.”

“It’s—“

“I will attempt to give a good measure of Nathalie as a commander. It might be true that she lacks the skills required. And if true, I will let you know my opinion on moving forward. If I am to be quartered or stationed here for the long haul, I would prefer working with a commander worth working for.”

He gave me a clap on the shoulder, then raised an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes and showed him the chain.

“Interesting armor choice,” he said.

“Involuntary,” I replied.

“Might want to get that checked out.”

“Noted.”

He gave me a smile and a slight nod of his head before walking out.

Again, as soon as the door opened, Hugo’s head popped in.

“Lord Northwoods for you, your grace,” Hugo said, opening the door.

I sighed, wondering how late this night was going to go.

Northwoods ambled in.

“A good evening unto you, your grace,” Northwoods said, bending low into a bow.

“Uh, good evening to you,” I replied.

“I wanted to thank you for your hospitality, and mention that we plan on remaining in your holding for a little while. The weather, you see.”

“Right. It’s pretty shitty out there.”

“So you won’t mind?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Thank you, your grace.”

He gave me another little bow, and was out.

Hugo popped his head in.

“Your grace, I have, unfortunately, not had much luck locating your hirð. Would a meeting with them in the morning be acceptable?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Excellent.”

I was alone in the room again.

“What the fuck?” I asked myself. I wondered if this was just because I had only begun having meetings with people, or if my life was going to become nothing but meetings.

Time would tell.

14

The next morning, I met with my remaining hirð members around the breakfast table. As we ate our food, I caught plenty of furtive looks being exchanged.

Finally, Bear the brownie cleared her throat and set her tiny napkin on the table. “You called the meeting,” she said. “What’s up?”

“Also,” Ragnar added, “have you thought about showering? You’re a bit—“

Skeld gave Ragnar a solid punch in the shoulder, sending the little lutra out of his chair.

“Sorry,” Skeld murmured.

“I do need a shower,” I said, “but I can’t exactly get my clothes off right now.”

I held up my arms so they could see the manacles and chains.

“Ah, right,” Ragnar said as he got back into his seat. “Those.”

“That was going to be topic three,” I replied, “but we can move it up the list. Tarryn, can you get these off me?”

“I, uh, maybe?” he answered, filling me with confidence.

He pulled his chair over next to mine and starting poking at the manacles, the chains, and me.

“Fine,” I said, “topic two.”

“Would this have been topic one?” Ragnar asked.

I just frowned at him. “I wanted to check in with all of you about how you’re doing. Make sure you’re not, um—“

“Sad? I’m sad.”

“Okay, Ragnar is sad. I am too. And also angry. Skeld?”

“More concerned,” Skeld said. “Feeling some anxiety over the winter. And how Coggeshall is going to fare without, um, you know.”

“Nikolai,” I said. “You can say his name.”

“I’m worried we’ll be in some real trouble without his guiding hand.”

“I got a secretary,” I said. “That might help a little. Okay, so, Skeld is worried. Bear?”

“I didn’t know Nikolai like the rest of you,” she replied. “So I only, I mean, he seemed so sad all the time. I’m almost happy for him that he’s not in pain anymore. I am also concerned about Coggeshall functioning, but maybe not as worried as Skeld. I think there’s a lot of goodwill built up here for the duke, and I’m willing to bet that everyone here knows governance is not your strong suit. Yet. So you know, as long as the food is hot, and no one is dying, we’ll be fine.”

I nodded, and tried to make a note in Nikolai’s notebook, but Tarryn still held my arm.

“Tarryn?” I asked.

“I feel confused,” he said. “These chains are very strong. Lots of magic to them. I’m not exactly sure what the right way to handle them might be, and it’s, I mean...”

“Okay, but what about in general?”

Tarryn sighed, dropping the chain. He looked up at the ceiling, and tilted his head back and forth a bit, like he was considering two sides of an issue.

“Along the lines of Bear,” he said, “I wasn’t, I mean, I didn’t really know Nikolai before, um, he turned into what he, um, was. Which was not happy. Or especially nice. Or inspiring. I’m more of the opinion that I’m glad he found a way out. More or less. I’m certainly not happy he’s gone, but I understand that, um, he is. I think you’re going to be hard-pressed to keep things going the way they were, but you also seem to be getting the whole idea of delegation. You know, the secretary is a good first step.”

I nodded.

“So everyone is worried,” I said. “Just kind of different levels.”

Everyone nodded.

There was a lot of nodding going around.

“Back to the chains,” I said. “Let’s get Arno. He might know something about this stuff. Ooh, or Hetsesta.”

“Who?” Tarryn asked.

“She’s, um, actually I don’t know what she does here, but she was the Imperial historian.”

“We have the Imperial historian in Coggeshall?”

“Well, former Imperial historian. But yeah, she lives here.”

Tarryn was on his feet and moving. “I’ll be back when I find her.”

“And Arno.”

“Right, when I find them.”

He walked away quickly, clearly excited at the prospect of meeting the historian. And was also likely going to forget about finding Arno or getting the manacles off.

“Bear,” I said, “any chance you can get these off?”

“If I can’t,” she said, walking across the table, “there’s probably someone in the Tree who can.”

She put her hands on the chains and then closed her eyes.

“Last topic for the moment,” I said, letting Bear work. “Nikolai had some people working for him, like secret people. I need you two to find them and bring them to me so.”

“What are secret people?” Ragnar asked.

“People who are working in secret. Like spies.”

“Nikolai had spies?”

“Yeah, or something like spies.”

“Secret people,” Skeld said. “Nikolai had secret people. Let’s find secret people!”

He got up, and promptly went to the next table and asked if anyone there was a secret person.

Then to the next.

Ragnar chuckled and joined him.

I sighed.

“Come with me to the tree,” Bear said. She was already walking to the door, pausing only briefly to pinch Skeld’s butt on the way.

15

Bear led me through the halls of MountainHome, walking quickly, weaving through the bit of traffic. But she stopped before we stepped outside so she could jump up on my shoulder, rather than brave the snow.

“You and Skeld doing well?” I asked.

“You think I was walking in front of you so you could stare at my tiny butt?” she asked in reply.

“You don’t feel like talking about it?”

“No, it’s private.”

“Okay.”

“And you say a damn thing about being careful—“

“I said okay.”

Snow covered the brownie tree, but not quite like the other trees. There was more of a light lacey layer over top, with a gentle yellow glow coming through.

I stepped under the tree and found dry ground, plus a delicate warmth. There were quite a few brownies moving around, engaged in the business of the tree. More than once, I saw them approach the bark of the tree, touch it, and then just sort of subsume inside the trunk between my blinks. It was hard to track them, or even understand what was happening.

“Wait here,” Bear said, and dropped to the ground. I swear she got smaller as she approached, and then, like the others, she just disappeared into the tree.

I stood there, waiting, smiling at the various brownies who looked over at me and waved.

A moment later, I felt a weight settle on my shoulder.

I looked over to see an old male brownie with a delicate little beard and a jaunty sort of hat.

“Your grace,” he said with a tip of his hat. “I have been told you have a wee issue with a chain.”

“You could say that,” I replied.

“I did say that,” he said with a wink.

I shook my head. Too many winks lately.

“Might need to move if you’d like to see the issue,” I said.

A small cloud materialized about eight feet off the ground. The little brownie hopped up and plopped down, like he was settling into his favorite easy chair.

“Go on, then,” he said.

I pulled my cloak off and let it fall to the ground.

“Well now,” the man said, leaning forward in his cloud chair, “that is a beautiful bit of mess.”

“I guess?” I replied.

His cloud moved closer. Then the little brownie hopped out and walked up and down my chains, tutting the entire time.

Whenever his weight made the chain touch my skin, I felt a small electric shock. Not painful, but surprising and unpleasant.

“Very powerful stuff,” the brownie said.

“Can you get it off me?” I asked.

“Of course,” he replied with a wide smile. He hopped on top of my head and did something up there I couldn’t see. Then I felt a hot flash of power run through my body.

The manacles began to glow and smoke started to pour out from them, as if they were burning my flesh. Then the green color rippled out of the chain and reformed in the air, like a semi-translucent green echo of the chain. The echo held in place for just a second before breaking apart and drifting away on the barest breeze.

I heard a sharp ‘click,’ and the manacles opened and fell off my wrists.

“Done,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said, rubbing my wrists.

“All done in the service of you, your grace,” the man said. He delicately stepped from my head to his cloud, and settled back down. “You mind terribly if we keep the chain?”

“Go ahead,” I said, wondering how he was going to carry the thing. I kind of wanted to see the brownies try.

But of course, he just waved his hands and the chain lifted itself up, unwrapped itself from my torso, and then sort of slunk away as if it were a snake.

“Thank you,” he said, smiling as the huge chain crawled up the tree, disappearing amongst the branches. “Do pay us visits more often. You are so welcome here.”

The cloud shot upward, and I lost sight of the brownie behind a leaf.

A moment later, Bear strolled along a branch and dropped off onto my shoulder.

“That was a bit odd,” I said. “Who was that?”

“Tenser,” Bear said. “He’s a, well, he studies magic.”

“I let him keep the chain.”

“There’s probably nothing wrong with that. He might try and make it magical again.”

“So he took the magic out of it?”

She nodded. “Put it into the tree. Should mean we see some growth today. Maybe tomorrow. Just, you know, didn’t want you to be surprised when you notice there’s another few feet of tree here.”

“Thank you.”

“You want me to help the boys find the secret people?”

“Uh, sure,” I said. “That’d probably help.”

“You mean to say that it would probably be the only way they’ll actually find the spies.”

“I didn’t want to say it, but that’s probably true.”

“Walk me to MountainHome?”

I sighed, then acted as her bus across the snow.

16

Finally chain-free, I went straight to my bathroom. I did not pass Go, did not collect 200 dollars, did not say hello to anyone or stop for any reason until I was naked and under the water, getting rid of the layers and layers of grime, goop, and general grossness.

I reveled in the shower. It felt fantastic, and I scrubbed myself nearly raw with harsh Coggeshall soap that smelled like the best pine car scents. I would have lathered up my beard, but, well, it was somewhat missing. Same with my hair. Hell, even my eyebrows and eyelashes were singed and therefore mostly absent.

I lost track of time. For once, I didn’t mind. I just accepted the momentary reprieve from the world. When thoughts intruded, I shoved them away. I stood directly under the crashing water, letting it pound my mind clear. A somewhat unorthodox form of meditation, but it was working. Who was I to argue?

After a while, I finally felt ready to rejoin the world. I got out, toweled off, and walked into the bedroom area of my suite.

I was naked, as usually happens when I leave the shower. I’m not sure when in my life it became normal to leave the towel in the bathroom and gather my clothes while nude. I will admit that I was much happier bouncing around in the buff with my Vuldranni body — I may even have had occasional posing session, imagining my very good odds of becoming Mr. Olympia with my new frame. Sigh.

But back to that night. I walked into the room, naked, aware of Darius asleep on his hammock. I was not expecting a young woman to also be in my room, standing in front of my bed.

She was not naked.

In fact, she was fully dressed and wearing armor.

Her eyes went wide when she saw me, and her face turned red. Immediately she turned away.

“Oh, sorry,” I blurted out, darting back into the bathroom. Then I promptly slipped on the wet floor and crashed to the ground.

Ouch.

I meekly grabbed the towel hanging above me and got to my feet, wondering why the hell my Art of Movement had failed to keep me upright. Did the game world allow things to happen for comedic effect? That’s ridiculous. I shook my mental fist at the metaphorical skies.

With my towel wrapped around my dangling bits, I walked back out of the bathroom.

The young woman was still looking away from me, and I could just see her face. Still very red. Her eyes were glued to the corners, trying to see if I’d come back.

“Good evening,” I said. “Can I, uh, who are you?”

“Duke Ginsburg said you are taking me on as your chancellor,” she said.

I blinked a few times, swallowed my surprise at both the meeting time and place, and said, “Oh, well, uh, welcome to the family then. Family? Maybe not the right word. Team. Welcome to the team.”

“Just like that?” she asked, turning to face me once again.

I got a better look at her face. You know, since it was easier to see her when I wasn’t scrambling back into the bathroom in a desperate attempt to cover myself. She was striking in that delightfully familiar manner. A bit like the girl next door, if you lived next door to really hot chicks. Dirty blonde hair, tan skin, deep blue eyes, and clearly very athletic. She was reasonably tall. I mean, I still towered over her, but I towered over nearly every human I’d met. She had a friendly smile and happy eyes, though she was being serious at the moment.

“... your grace?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked in reply, totally missing whatever she’d actually asked.

“I was asking if you are going to have me swear an oath now or later?”

“Uh, now? I’m not really sure.”

“Sometimes, um, if you do not mind my explaining...” she stopped talking, and waited for me to say something.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Thank you, your grace. Many times, when presented with a new chancellor, a lord may take the time to get to know the chancellor or counselor, to understand if the counselor is right for the job before an oath is sworn. For once an oath is sworn, it cannot be unmade.”

“Did you swear an oath to Ginsburg?”

“Yes.”

“But you will be swearing a new oath to me?”

“Yes.”

“What happens to the old oath?”

“What oath, your grace?”

“The one you swore to Ginsburg?”

“I, uh,” she paused and frowned. “I suppose it is, um, superseded by the new oath.”

“So you can take a new oath, but not break the old oath. Or, rather, is the old oath broken when the new oath is sworn?”

“I... um... yes? I believe. I admit that oaths are certainly not an area I know particularly well.”

“I’m just curious. Would I have to be a noble for this to work?”

“To have someone swear to be your chancellor? I suppose not. But you are a duke... which you know. Sorry.”

“No worries on that account. I forget I’m a duke all the damn time.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“So the only reason to not swear the oath now is that you can go back to Ginsburg if I decide I don’t like you?”

“I believe I cannot actually return to Duke Ginsburg, even if you dismiss me, as he has already decided I am to be part of your court. Or council. Or both.”

“Do I have a court?”

“I suppose only you would be able to answer that question.”

“Wrapping up that first issue, your oath to Ginsburg is now broken.”

“It would seem so, yes.”

“So that whole thing about the oath being unbreakable is kind of bullshit.”

“It would appear that way, yes, your grace.”

“Just swear the oath with her already,” Darius bellowed from his hammock.

“Keep your pants on,” I hollered back.

“I’m trying to sleep here.”

“Go back to your room if you want to sleep.”

“Then who’s going to watch the damned egg?”

“At this point, let’s just make a big omelette.”

The egg shivered.

“That was a joke, egg,” I said.

The young woman, my chancellor-to-be, looked completely lost. She glanced from me to the minotaur to the egg, and then back to me.

“I have an egg,” I said.

“Yes, your grace,” she said.

“It was a present from someone, and it’s supposed to hatch soon.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“It was actually already hatching, but I told it to wait a little longer. Things got complicated.”

“Of course, your grace.”

“Can you maybe tell me a little about yourself, and then we’ll do that whole oath thing?”

“Can you do that somewhere that’s not here?” Darius asked.

“Can you ask nicely?”

“Please leave, you non-sleeping, nightwalking, blood-soaked motherfucker?”

“For the record, I am totally clean right now,” I said. “But for you, my dear Darius, we will finish this talk elsewhere.”

“Oh, thank the heavens,” Darius said.

I maybe flipped him off, which he didn’t see so what’s the point, and walked over to the door to my balcony. I opened it, gesturing for the young squire to go outside.

She did not seem eager to head into the cold, but did so anyway. I followed close behind.

The night was unusually clear, but the air was freezing. I immediately regretted my decision, what with the scant water on my body quickly icing over.

“Are you going to be okay out here?” I asked, hoping she’d say she’d need to go back inside.

Instead, she took a breath and nodded, holding her teeth shut to keep from shivering. Great. We were both being posturing assholes.

“Your name then?” I asked.

“Clarissa,” she replied. “Clarissa Edgemond.”

“I’m just going to assume you know who I am—“

“Yes, your grace.”

“And you’re from somewhere down south?”

“East actually. My family, uh, is from the east.”

“Near Rumib’s pass? Arenberg?

“Farther south that that, nearer the Kingkillers. We, um, have some land there.”

“Are you of noble birth?” I asked, knowing the answer but trying to see if I could push her to reveal a little more about herself and her family.

She frowned and gave me a look. “I am, but I have no titles. My siblings either have them or will have them.”

“Oh. Is that, I mean, do you mind?”

“No, your grace. I enjoy things that most people would find mundane. Or boring. I like the challenge of organizing people and bringing a town or holding together. My ultimate dream is to grow a city. It seems, perhaps, strange, when so many others I know are busy trying to make themselves into heroes, chasing monsters or conquering land. But I see a fundamental flaw inherent in so many big holdings. There is so little management, and very little growth.”

“I mean, that’s a pretty fucking good answer.”

She hid a slight smile. “Thank you, your grace.”

“So, um,” I said, trying to find the right words, “I’m going to use this ability I have, and you’ll have to tell the truth to my next question, okay?”

She frowned a little, but then nodded. “Yes, your grace.”

I activated Veritasium, my once-a-day truth serum. “Did you come here to kill myself or any of my people here?”

“No, your grace.”

“Okay, that’s good to hear.”

Then, for good measure, I used true sight to peer over Clarissa, make sure she was, you know, human.

Nothing changed. She was just herself.

I took a second to glance around. I could definitely see better, almost like the dark parted wherever my focus settled, and I could really see what was there. Even the stars weren’t twinkling when I looked up at them. Sort of took the magic out of stargazing. Odd that it would take magic to make something mundane.

“Do you have more questions, your grace?” she asked.

I frowned, and then shook my head.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Look, I’ll be honest here: I’m not, uh, very well versed in all the squire-knight stuff. So, you know, try not to fuck me over, and I’ll try to get you a title soon.”

“I will not, uh,” she started, then faltered, “I would not do that.”

“Good. Let’s do some swearing. Is there a— “I began to ask if there was an oath I should repeat, but out of nowhere I was certain I knew what I needed to say. “What is it you desire?”

“I desire to serve you in the capacity of chancellor and as a member of your council,” she said, full-on serious. “I will dedicate myself to the quest of improving Coggeshall, and caring for its people. I will endeavor to improve myself so that I might better serve my lord. I will strive to earn the respect of the Empire. All these things I swear to do until my Lord releases me from my vow, or the Emperor thus commands me.”

Automatically, I replied, “I accept your oath as being sworn freely, and will accept my position as your lord. I will defend your life, provide you a life, and will remember that while my chancellor is in my service, she is not my servant.”

She gave me a nod, and then we both sort of stood there.

“That it?” I asked.

“Yes, your grace,” Clarissa said, a slight smile on her face.

“Different than with my first chancellor.”

“Perhaps you did not swear him in as you did me.”

“You know, I can’t remember what I did. It was crazy in those early days.”

“I am a little jealous I did not get to see Coggeshall from its initial formation.”

“Ehhh, it wasn’t that nice. Lots of sleeping in tight spaces, goblin raids, sieges, foul weather, and I kept bringing home strays.”

“Strays?”

“Ignore that.”

“Yes, your grace. There is one thing, if I might ask...”

“Ask away.”

“Would it be possible to keep my, um, familial connections as private as you can?”

“Is there an issue with your family?”

“There are many issues with my family, but none which apply to you or Coggeshall. It is more that I am not in the habit of trading on my family name when I might make my own.”

“That’s fair enough. I will do what I can.”

I noticed that she was shivering.

“We should probably go back inside,” I said.

“Yes, your grace,” Clarissa replied, and she moved faster than me to open the door, then stood outside for me to go in before her.

It felt a little wrong to do that, but I reminded myself of the dynamic at place between the two of us now. She was supposed to do this sort of shit for me, and I was supposed to let her.

I walked inside.

“You probably don’t have a place to sleep, do you?” I asked.

“I still have my bedroll in the space provided for me,” she replied.

“Okay. I’ll make sure you have your own place,” I said. Then I remembered that Nikolai had a room somewhere that probably needed to be cleaned out and fixed up, and might not be ready right away. “As soon as possible, that is.”

“Thank you, your grace. Shall we go over your things in the morning, then?”

“Yeah,” I said, “tomorrow.”

“Yes, your grace,” she said with a slight bow of her head.

Clarissa twisted on her heel and walked away. I caught a glimpse of her wide smile in the mirror as she passed, so at least she was happy. Hopefully not because she’d just pulled something over on me.

17

Morning brought a clear indication that things in my life had changed. First up, Hugo met me right outside my door.

“Good morning, your grace,” he said, “I was just coming to make sure you were prepared for the day.”

“I’m not entirely sure what today holds,” I replied, “but I feel prepared.”

“Excellent. Follow me, if you would.”

“Any chance we’re going to breakfast first?” I asked.

Hugo stopped short and turned around to face me.

“That wasn’t necessarily my plan,” he said.

“What’s the plan, then?” I asked.

“It was brought to my attention there is a new chancellor.”

“That’s right, but it just happened last night, so—“

“There is no need to apologize for not telling me. It is my duty to know things.”

“I wasn’t apologizing—“

“I arranged for a meeting of your council this morning, whereby you could introduce the chancellor to your council.”

“Okay.”

“Shall I arrange for food to be brought to you?”

“Uh, sure?”

“Excellent,” he blurted, and was moving again.

After a few minutes of hiking up stairs, I sat in the conference room. Alone.

I felt like a child.

Skeld and Bear were the next to arrive, coming in while laughing about something. Seeing their burgeoning romance made me happy. There was also a hint of weirdness, because this was the first inter-species romance I’d seen. But no one else really batted an eye, at least not in my presence.

Ragnar was quick behind, then Harmut and the others, all trailing in, small talk bouncing between the various council members.

Last to arrive, unfortunately, was the new chancellor.

Clarissa walked in, head held high. She surveyed the room carefully, then sat down next to me.

“Good morning,” I said, just as two kobolds in white uniforms pushed a trolley laden with food into the room.

All of it was placed in front of me. Heaping plates of eggs, bacon, biscuits, a large bowl of fruit, a bowl of oatmeal, carafes of coffee and juice, and then a single muffin.

The kobolds smiled, nodded, and left without a word.

Hugo edged into the room and stood by the door.

“Okay, um,” I said, getting to my feet so everyone could see me over the food. “Two new hires — uh, joiners. Something. Hugo, over there,” I pointed to Hugo, who glared at everyone, “is going to be my secretary, and Clarissa,” I gestured to Clarissa, “is our new chancellor.”

There were a few murmurs, but nothing was said outright.

“Either of you feel like making introductions?” I asked.

“No,” Hugo said firmly enough to make his feelings on the matter exceedingly clear.

“I can, uh,” Clarissa said, fiddling a little with her hair as she stood, trying to make sure she was presentable. Or something along those lines.

I sat down and poured some coffee.

Ragnar, somehow, had made himself a plate out of the food in front of me, despite sitting nowhere near the food.

“My name is Clarissa,” she said, “I have been studying holding management with Duke Ginsburg for the past two years. And now I am here to, um, put that training to, uh, work. I hope.”

“Welcome,” Ragnar said, his smile more full of eggs and bacon than was truly appropriate.

“Thank you,” she said with a perfunctory smile. “I will likely have quite a few questions for all of you in the coming days, but I hope to get some semblance of an order in place shortly. I admit I have not had much of a chance to sit down with Duke Coggeshall and ascertain the direction he would like Coggeshall to face, but in time, I think we will all find, um, a quality working relationship.”

“Veered off a bit at the end there,” I whispered.

She shot me a quick eyebrow arch before continuing on as if I hadn’t interrupted her.

“I am aware there is quite a lot to do,” Clarissa said, “and even more I have to learn about how Coggeshall works. I will not look to make vast changes unless absolutely necessary. For the time being, I think we are simply focused on getting to the spring. Which you probably already know and planned for... Right. I am new at this, and not exactly used to speaking to, um, you. Or any group. So. Um—“

“You’re new,” Ragnar said, “we won’t bite. We all want to make Coggeshall work.”

“Thank you, um—”

“Ragnar.”

“Ragnar, right. And what is your position?”

“I’m, uh, what is my position, boss?”

“Hirð member,” I said.

“I was unaware you had a hirð,” Clarissa said, sitting down and making a note.

“Skeld Woodingson, and I’m also in the hirð,” Skeld said.

“Bear Snowgust. Hirð member and brownie liaison.”

“Eliza Northwoods, court consultant?” Eliza asked.

“That sounds about right,” I said.

“Harmut. Dwarf liaison, and building.”

“Timurlan, head of farming and ranching.”

“Tarryn, hirð member.”

“And warmancer,” I added.

“True,” he said.

“Nathalie Glaton, general of the military, commander of the guard.”

Clarissa’s hand didn’t stop moving the entire time, scribbling incredibly fast in a sort of shorthand I couldn’t make out. When everyone had introduced themselves, she continued writing for a moment, and then nodded. She looked around the group, stopping on each face for a moment before nodding one more time.

“Excellent,” she said. “I think—“

“I should note we are missing a few,” Harmut said.

“Shit,” I said. “Right. Lee is our treasurer and chief engineer, and Baltu is our kobold liaison and general chill guy.”

“I thought I was going to be general chill,” Ragnar said.

“You’re too uptight.”

“Lee and Baltu?” Clarissa clarified, making more notes.

“Yep.”

“I think there might be a few holes to fill in the council,” she said, “with your grace’s permission, of course.”

“If you think that’s what we need, let me know.”

“I will, um, make some suggestions in our next meeting.”

“Awesome,” I said. “Are we done?”

Everyone prepped to leave, like the class bell was late to ring.

“I believe so, yes,” she said.

The room emptied out in impressive speed, except that Clarissa had my sleeve in her fingers.

“Where was your chancellor’s office?” she asked.

“Follow me,” I said.

I took her to Nikolai’s office, and then opened the door and gave her a key.

“Tah-da!” I said.

She walked around the rather austere room with a bit of a frown on her face.

“Is this it?” she said.

“It’s what Nikolai wanted,” I replied. “I’m sure you can make changes if you need.”

“I think I do, your grace.”

“Let Harmut know what you need,” I said, “and he’ll build to suit. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to avoid my secretary.”

“Yes, your grace,” she said with the hint of a smile.

And off I ran, back to being the truant.

18

I was determined to spend some time enjoying myself.

Not like that.

I went outside into the snow, and I cavorted. I summoned a giant glitter of prinkies to help shovel the road and the paths, the walls and the towers, and push all the snow we could into a large pile. Then we built a snow maze. And left piles of snowballs in strategic spots all over the walled-in area.

It didn’t take long for some children to find the snowballs, and then it was a fracas.

Snow flying left and right.

Children laughing and running through the maze.

We got a bonfire going to warm up and dry off.

Mugs of hot chocolate appeared.

More and more Coggeshallians came outside and joined in the fun. Someone brought out tables, and others spread out food on them.

The sun broke through the clouds, as if we’d forced the weather to change to something nicer.

Fritz showed up, dropping out of the sky and hitting the ground with a thump, all set to the cheers of the Coggeshallians who clearly saw the giant Roc as not only a member of the hold, but something more, something legendary.

Naturally, Fritz took this well. He started preening, and then joined in on the fun, using his massive wings to make localized snow storms. Then he asked me if he could give rides.

I shrugged. It was up to him.

So we had Fritz rides going. I got his main harness on, and we tied in some kids as well as adults. Fritz would take off and give a flying tour. Sometimes over the valley, sometimes through the tight river canyon, then back up over the mountains. Really, whatever he felt like.

When the snow day reached a certain critical mass, I stepped back and just watch my people having fun.

And that’s what I did, because I noticed there was always a touch of hesitation whenever I was around. Maybe fear, maybe respect, hard to tell really. In some ways, those are two sides of the same coin. So I just moved away, taking a seat on the crenellations of the wall. Away from the action, but near enough I could feel the waves of joy crashing against me.

I felt a twinge of sadness. I wanted to be in the middle of the action, of the fun. I wanted to be where all my people were. A bit juvenile, I know, but I wanted the applause and adoration Fritz got. But somehow, I was the monster. Which sucked. I also understood, to a degree. Most often, my people had seen me amid violence. They had seen what I’d been forced to do to protect them, but they’d seen what I was capable of. Many had seen me rip a jaw off a man and beat him to death. Most had seen me covered in some gore or another. They’d seen me kill half-a-dozen different nightmares, which seemed to just make me more of a nightmare.

I smiled, wondering what I could do to fix that problem. Was it a problem, though? Would it be better for my people to live in a state of fear for me? That could do something for me, for us. Promote that fear of me so that groups outside Coggeshall were also afraid, and that could act as a form of psychological defense. Would that be worth it?

Too many questions.

I put my face up to the sun and soaked up some of the winter rays.

Until a shadow blocked them.

I opened one eye.

“Sorry to bother your grace,” Hugo said. “But your chancellor requests a meeting.”

I sighed.

“Shall I tell her you are busy?”

“I’m very tempted,” I said. “But that seems a little rude for day one.”

“You set the tone of your court. If you allow your council to call you to meetings, they will. If you make it clear you dictate your time, they will wait until you call them to meetings.”

“Kind of defeats the purpose of counselors if I only go to them when I need something.”

“I believe it merely alters the purpose, your grace.”

I stood up and stretched a little, trying not to loom over the little secretary.

“Let’s go,” I said.

“Excellent,” he replied.

As I passed by the snow day festivities, attention shifted to me. The levity dropped down a skosh. But then I passed, and everything went back to normal. I sighed.

19

I found Clarissa sitting behind Nikolai’s desk — correction, her desk — poring over all sorts of papers, ledgers, and books. Some even spilled off onto the floor.

Technically Hugo found her, since he walked in in front of me, announced me, and then slipped out before I noticed.

“He’s very quick,” I said, the closing door.

“I’m sorry?” Clarissa asked, not looking up from the ledger.

“Hugo. He moves fast.”

“Oh, not something I noticed. Do you mind having a seat?”

I sat down.

“You have some questions?” I asked.

“More than I thought,” she said.

“Well, hit me with them.”

“Why do you have so many titles?” she asked.

“That’s an interesting question,” I said, “and there really isn’t a fun answer. I was challenged to a few duels, and I won.”

“Ah. Are you vested in them?”

“To be honest, I couldn’t name them all without looking at my character sheet.”

“That is, um, unusual.”

“You’ll find I’m not exactly normal.”

“I am beginning to put together a picture. Would you be interested in disposing of some of the more extraneous titles?”

“Is that a thing that can happen? Sell them or something?”

“Outright sales are, well, atypical. It is more like trading.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“The ones outside Glaton are problematic, being that you technically have two sovereign lieges.”

“I have titles that aren’t in Glaton?”

“Yes. You are a Prince of Eonneque and the Fürst of Vreijuirag.”

“Well, that’s fun.”

“You could become the king of Eonneque. You are third in line, at least as far as I can tell.”

“Probably good to get rid of that one, eh?”

“Very much yes, your grace. They are still de facto allies of ours, though only in that they have not gone to war with us recently.”

“Are we at war right now?”

She frowned and looked at me like I was an idiot.

“Wait,” I said, “I know this one. Mahrduhm. That’s still going.”

“That is but one. Carchedon attacks us on two fronts while Kronth pushes our southwestern border. I would imagine it is only a short time before there are invasions on the southeast as well.”

“Technically, I think we’re at war with Osterstadt as well.”

“Osterstadt? The closest city to us?”

“That’d be the one.”

“Good to know. I suppose trade with them is off the table.”

“Currently, yes. They are particularly unhappy with me, so maybe if you could do it without mentioning me.”

“I doubt that would work.”

“You never know.”

“I feel confident in this case.”

“Fair enough. What about Vreijuirag?”

“I am still working on that.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“Yes,” she said. “You do not?”

“Nope.”

She took in a deep breath and let it out, forcing a smile onto her face.

“Not too late to walk away,” I said.

“I swore an oath.”

“If you want out, I can break it.”

“I will not run away from a challenge, whatever it may be.”

“Excellent. Shit, I sound like fucking Hugo.”

“Hugo — you know, forget it. Vreijuirag is also to the east. On the coast of the Eastern Ocean. Known for minerals and metals, mostly. And you are reasonably high-ranking there. At least on paper. I could not find a paired journal with anyone there amongst what your previous chancellor left, so making any intelligent guesses about your relationship with the country is rather impossible.”

“Lovely.”

“Would you like to hold on to any specific titles?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I will reach out and see who might be interested in trading for them.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“I never really saw the point of having all those titles. Is there one?”

“They would likely come with income and prestige.”

“Haven’t seen a copper from them yet. I don’t want to say we’re doing okay with money, being that I don’t really know, but I think we’re doing okay.”

“I have taken a cursory look through our accounts, and I think we will be fine for a good while. Might I ask where all our gold has come from?”

“Mostly me.”

“You put your personal fortune into the holding?”

“I guess, yeah.”

“What gold is yours then?”

“I think, so far at least, it has been a sort of, um, what’s mine is Coggeshall’s and what’s Coggeshall’s is mine. A bit of a sharing thing.”

“I suppose if that’s been working, we can keep it going that way. Has it been working?”

“So far.”

She nodded and made a note.

“How often do you check your notifications?” she asked.

“Probably not as often as I should,” I replied.

“What about going over your holding pages?”

“Less often.”

“Are you up-to-date with your holding quests?”

“Um. I think.”

“Do you think it would be wise for me to keep abreast of them?”

“That would probably be a good idea.”

“I can add that to my list,” she said. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Is there something like duke-chancellor privilege? Where what I tell you is automatically secret?”

“Usually there is a sense of confidence understood to be in place between a lord and his or her chancellor. What sort of secrets do you have?”

“Mostly stupid little ones, but there is one rather important one I should probably share with you, just—“

“Your grace, it is up to you. I welcome knowing your secrets, but if you doubt me or my ability to keep it, do not feel pressured to share it.”

I nodded, and I leaned back in my chair until it balanced on two legs.

“If you don’t mind, while you consider, might I continue?” she asked.

“You’ve got more to discuss?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Let’s keep going then.”

“Is there a reason you have everyone living inside the mountain?”

“Safety.”

“How would you characterize the danger here?”

“Well, it’s pretty much untamed wilds outside our walls. Lots of goblins in the valley, who seem intent on kidnapping everyone here to sacrifice to their own dark gods. Might be into eating us as well. We have troll attacks. Got sieged on both sides once. That was fun. Had to deal with a mercenary army and someone pretending he was working with Valamir—“

“High Prince Valamir Glaton?”

“That’s the one.”

“We are enemies with him?”

“No, he apologized for that. He said he wasn’t involved, and, well, we decided to believe him. He gave us some cows.”

“Cows.”

“And a few soldiers.”

“Speaking of, what is the current state of our military or guard?”

“You should probably speak to Nathalie about that.”

“I will, but I wanted to know your take on the situation.”

“As I can tell, we probably don’t have enough, and it’s at all sorts of levels training-wise.”

“And the Legion. Is that an official appointment?”

“Not exactly. They were sent to Osterstadt, and when Osterstadt decided they wanted out of the Empire, I managed to negotiate the Legion walking away with me.”

“Ah.”

“The captain, who is the current leader, thinks they’ll probably be here a while, and I’d probably be willing to keep them around if we’re allowed.”

“If that is a direction you would like things to go, I can see about making sure that is part of my plan. We might be able to use some of your titles as favors to get the Legion formally posted to Coggeshall.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?’

She finally leaned back and shook out her writing hand, as if she’d been getting a cramp.

“I appreciate you asking, but I’m not sure I have wise council on that topic. It is always useful to have more swords in a border province, but more swords also means more mouths.”

“I think we have a pretty decent handle on food. Timurlan is kind of a wizard in that regard. Maybe an actual wizard.”

“An actual wizard is in charge of growing our food?”

“Well, he’s a lifeweaver. Slightly different. And he’s very good at this growing food thing.”

“Is now the time you tell me that you have no issues with magic being a part of things?”

“Now would probably be a good time to tell you that. Do you have issues with it?”

“I admit I know little about magic, but it is not something I am overly comfortable with.”

“We use a fair amount of magic here.”

“Is this Empire-sanctioned magic?”

“Some of it.”

“And the other bits?”

“Me-sanctioned.”

“I see.”

“Like the witches’ school. That’s because I said it’s okay. And I’ll back that up.”

“We have a witches’ school?”

“I’d say it’s more like we host a witch school. They’re very nice. Also brownies. They’ve got magic as well.”

“I did meet several of them during Fiends’ Night.”

“Where were you for that?”

“For the dinner?”

“All of it. I don’t remember meeting you.”

“Duke Ginsburg wanted to keep me, or my family, secret, so I was with his staff instead of traveling as part of the nobles.”

“You’re pretty big at keeping that family stuff a secret.”

“I am. The Edgemonds are not the most reputable of families in Glaton. I am surprised I have to tell you this.”

“Okay, my secret time. You told me your secret, I’m telling you mine. I’m not from here.”

“I’ve heard that. That you are from somewhere up north and won’t tell anyone exactly what country you come from.”

“I mean, that’s one version of things.”

“Is there more to it than that?”

“Quite a bit. I guess. Or not much more, depending on your point of view.”

“So what country is it? And were you nobility there? Royalty?”

“It’s, uh, a different world entirely. Maybe even a different universe. A place where there’s no such thing as character sheets. And very little royalty. Or nobility. And I was as far away from nobility as you could get.”

“A different world?”

“Yes.”

“I am not, I mean, what do you mean?”

“I’m not sure I know a better way to describe it.” I shook my head and tried to come to terms with how far I wanted to really take this, how much of the truth I should drop on this poor girl. Might as well try all of it. “Buckle your shit up, because I’ve got a lot of truth to drop and I’m going to try and keep it coming before I lose my courage. I come from a place called Detroit, and I was a thug there. A fighter, a piece of muscle used to hurt people. I followed orders and was preparing to die. I was a piece of shit. And I’m not very smart. I’ve only been here for a few months, maybe half-a-year. I don’t know how all this character stuff works, I’m consistently caught by surprise, with my figurative pants down. Kind of important for you to know since you’re, going to be asking me shit I don’t fucking know. And I’ve never known. Half the shit you tell me, I’ll forget. The other half I’ll probably ignore, and it’s just because I’m a fucking idiot. I’m trying to improve, but, fuck, man, it’s a lifetime of being that I’m trying to re-wire, and that’s not easy. My best thing, I can fight. Or, rather, I can win. My fighting skills are rudimentary at best, but I win. I fight dirty, I fight strong, and I fight angry. You want something destroyed, I’m your man. That might also be why we’ve got a lot of enemies. We’re sure to face danger on the regular here, and most of our army is me. I go out, kill things, and then come back to rinse and repeat. So the quick recap is that I’m stupid, violent, good at winning and surviving, and busy making enemies of nearly everyone who comes here. Questions?”

She blinked a few times, looked down at her notebook, which only had a few lines written in it, and then back up at me.

“I’m,” she started, and then shook her head. “That’s quite a bit.”

“It is,” I replied. “Usually why I don’t tell people.”

“So you, um, you are not good with numbers.”

“No.”

“Politics?”

“Terrible.”

“But you are good at fighting. Sort of.”

“Yes. I fight. And I win. I can also sometimes come back from death. So I usually go up against the bad things instead of anyone else. Also because I’d rather me die than anyone else.”

“You are willing to die?”

“Yes.”

“Because you can come back?”

I took a deep breath, and decided that I might as well continue with the honesty.

“Let’s keep it at I’m willing to die.”

“Are you seeking death?”

“I’ll get there sooner or later.”

“Your grace, there are, I mean, I don’t know what to say.”

“Time to say if you want to keep the job.”

“It would seem to be slightly more complicated than I initially expected. You need me to handle quite a bit, yes?”

“I mean, it’s a matter of what you want to take on. Probably the biggest thing is that I just don’t know about things. Fiends’ Night? Total fucking surprise to me.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Hey, that’s the first time you’ve cursed around me.”

“Apologies—“

“Fuck that. You want to curse, you curse.”

“Who knows the truth?”

“The hirð. And Lee. I think that’s it.”

“That is not very many people.”

“Well, they say that the best way to keep a secret is to tell one person and kill them.”

“Are you going to kill me now?”

“It was a joke.”

“Not a very good joke.”

“I suppose I don’t have the best sense of humor, either.”

“I will make a note of that.”

“And my people are terrified of me.”

“I wouldn’t say they are terrified.”

“You should.”

“There is some fear involved, yes, but I have heard mostly good things.”

“You heard mostly good things? That means you heard some bad things.”

“There are concerns with your hygiene.”

“Of course.”

“And the fact that you are unmarried. There are concerns about succession.”

“Well, fuck me.”

“Not exactly how I imagined solving this problem.”

“Just a phrase. Not, uh—”

“I was making a joke that time, your grace.”

“Got it.”

“It would seem I am not good at humor either.”

“Let’s just, I mean, we can work on it together. And pencil in finding an heir, I suppose.”

“You want me to find a wife for you as well?”

“I think we’ve got a few other things in the pipeline before you start matchmaking.”

“Yes, your grace. Is that a joke?”

“Yes. Please do not start matchmaking.”

“Yes, your grace,” she said, a genuine smile spreading across her face.

“Also, you should know I have a lot of prinkies at my disposal.”

I summoned some prinkies, and they stood around me, pushing to be in front.

“They are so cute,” she said. “I did not know where they came from. But they’re yours?”

“I can summon them, but I’m not sure I’d say they’re mine. If you need some mildly-effective physical labor, let me know.”

“How many can you summon?”

“At first it was, like, a hundred or so. But now it’s gotten a little ridiculous, and I’m not sure of the upper limit. Enough to fill most spaces.”

“Is the pile of shiny pebbles in the corner something special?”

“The remnants of a running joke between me and Nikolai. You can—“

“I will leave it in place.”

I felt my eyes well up suddenly. “Thank you.”

“Of course, your grace.”

“Anything else?” I asked.

“I think it has been enough so far today.”

“Okay,” I said, getting to my feet and dismissing the prinkies. “Good luck, and feel free to ask for whatever might help.”

“Of course, your grace.”

I walked over to the door, and as I opened it, I heard Clarissa say something.

“Thank you, your grace,” she said. “For sharing your secrets with me. I will hold it in strictest confidence.”

“Thank you,” I said.

It felt good to have been so open and honest with someone. Of course, by the time the door shut behind me, I was worried I’d made a mistake.

20

“You know,” a familiar voice said on my shoulder, “you’re being very trusting of her.”

I looked over to see Bear reclining on me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Lounging.”

“How long have you been lounging?”

“A while.”

“How long?”

“Long enough to hear your conversation with the chancellor.”

“And you think I said too much?”

“No. I just think you need to be aware of what you’re doing.”

“I’m aware. Is there something else I should know about Clarissa?”

“I would imagine there’s a lot we should know about her, but so far, she’s on the level.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve been spending time with her.”

“Does she know you’re spending time with her?”

“I haven’t checked.”

“So that’s a no.”

“How would I get her to be her real self around me if she knew I was around?”

“So you’re spying on her.”

“That would be one way to put it. Is that a problem?”

I sighed. Part of me wanted to say that it was. It certainly wasn’t the right way of doing things, and I didn’t want to bless the idea of spying on all our counselors. And yet, Clarissa was new and had a position of some power. That meant she could do actual harm if she wanted. Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

“Let’s not make too much of a habit of this,” I said.

“Only the newcomers?” Bear asked.

“Case-by-case basis. And you need to ask me first.”

“Bah, fine.”

“What did you learn?”

“Just what I told you — that she’s on the level. She’s remarkably nervous, struggling more than a little with all the various duties she’s been entrusted with, and she definitely thinks she’s in over her head a little. But, all the same, I haven’t seen any signs, so far, of her being in league with someone else, or being here under false pretenses.”

“Do you know much about her family?”

“I know nothing of her family. Up until coming to live with you, I paid zero attention to the goings-on of Glaton. We were mostly focused on fighting spiders, if you recall.”

“Fucking spiders. I still need to take care of that.”

“You’re still thinking of cleaning out the valley?”

“It would make things safer here, long term. I don’t think the spiders are going to be content staying in that valley forever.”

“The cold might keep them there.”

“You think they can’t stand the cold?”

“They didn’t like it much.”

“Do you know why your valley was warm?”

“If I did, don’t you think I’d help you finish your damn quest?”

“Ah, you know about that?”

“I’m in your hirð, I know all your quests. And that you’re woefully behind on finishing any of them.”

“Woefully? That seems a little harsh.”

“With Nikolai gone, you need a new source of harsh.”

“And that’s you?”

“Might be Skeld.”

“Skeld is not harsh.”

“He could be. He’s still struggling with his new form. He still forgets he’s not a lutra.”

“I can imagine what that’s like.”

“I bet. But if he gets himself together and embraces his carcajouishness…”

“So you’re my harsh until he taps into his harshness?”

“Maybe.”

“Fair enough.”

“Do you want me to keep watching the girl?”

“She has a name, you know.”

“Sure, but I don’t want to start liking her until I know she can be trusted. She’s quite charismatic, you know.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Bull and shit. You are very much swayed by her.”

“Maybe, but I’m not swayed by her beauty or something.”

“Oh? I’ve seen how you look at her.”

“I look at lots of women that way.”

“You look at very few women that way.”

“You’re paying attention to my male gaze now?”

“Of course. You’re a bachelor duke. Your heart, among other organs, is a major target and opportunity. There are plenty of folk who will see marriage with you as a path to the throne. Or at least riches. Or power.”

“I don’t think we have riches—“

“When was the last time you went to the treasury? You think we don’t have riches? You’re a fool.”

“At least on that we agree.”

“You are being willfully stupid in this regard, Montana. You want me to keep an eye on her?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I think that’s wise. But I also think you need to really think about who you are and what you are doing here.”

“I think about that all the time.”

“And what’s the plan, then?”

“With Coggeshall?”

“Yes.”

“Get it safe. Make it a home for people.”

“And how do we go about that?”

“I don’t fucking know. What the fuck is this? Why the fuck are you challenging me on all this shit?”

“Because you have to start making actual concrete fucking plans. You can’t just sit here and hope someone else is going to fucking do it, Montana.”

“Is this more of the harsh thing?”

“No, this is the stuff that Nikolai was saving you from. He was the one making those decisions so you didn’t have to trouble yourself. You two had an idea of what Coggeshall was going to become, but Nikolai was the one making the concrete decisions. That’s on you now. So you need to start with firming up what it is you want and then make a path to get there. Otherwise, we’re going to end up living in Clarissa’s Coggeshall, not yours.”

She jumped off my shoulder and disappeared into the air.

“Nice trick,” I said, trying to track her invisible form.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice just floating over the air.

I thought about using my true sight, but decided that was something I should keep in reserve. Or for a much better practical joke.

21

With most everyone still playing in the snow, I had the upper cafeteria almost all to myself. I took a hunk of steak, cut it up, and shoved it into a hunk of fresh bread. Steak sandwich. I wished I had some potato chips, since those are always the best side for a sandwich. But it didn’t seem like they existed yet in Glaton. Or, at least, it didn’t seem like they were part of the usual menu. Maybe I needed to make a duchal request.

I took my sandwich and sat down near one of the windows so I could watch the people having fun outside. Which was basically as pathetic as it sounded. I pulled out the root beer flask, took a sip, and set it down. It was a little taste of home, and it put me in mind to think on Coggeshall.

Thing was, was there any sort of difference between what I wanted and what Nikolai wanted—

“Heard you wanted to see us,” came a voice. Before I could turn to see who it was, I saw a small hand reach out, take my flask, and pour the root beer into a cup a little larger than a shot glass.

I looked over to the side. No one there.

“Over here,” the voice said.

Seated at the table were two battenti, with all-black fur and wide smiles.

“Not sure who you are,” I said. “Or that I wanted to see you.”

“We are, uh, what did Nikolai call us?” one fox-eared fellow asked his buddy.

“Shadows,” the other one said.

“Right! I liked that,” the first said. “We are Nikolai’s shadows. Or were. I suppose using that name now is, well—“

“Necromantic.”

“I was going to say gauche, but yes, necromantic.”

“You two were his spies,” I said.

“Now that is gauche,” the first one said. “But accurate. To a certain amount.”

“Names?”

“McKerrow and Wilkerson.”

“Who is who?”

“Wilkerson,” the talkative one said. “The chatty one there is McKerrow.”

“Wilkerson, McKerrow, nice to meet the two of you,” I said. “I’m a little surprised that you’re battenti.”

“You remember the name of our clan, yes?”

“Night Delvers.”

“Did you wonder the origin of the name?”

“Can’t say I did. Just thought it was one of those, um, things.”

“No,” Wilkerson. “We have a slightly tarnished reputation, based on being somewhat sneaky.”

“Deserved,” McKerrow said.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t deserved,” Wilkerson said. “I just, you know what? Stop interrupting me all the damn time.”

McKerrow shrugged.

“I imagine you are interested in maintaining a similar business relationship with us,” Wilkerson said.

“I think so,” I replied, “but I have to know how you missed the Master stuff.”

“That was a failure on our part.”

“Catastrophic,” McKerrow said.

“What he said,” Wilkerson continued. “The Master and his ilk were beyond our ability. We know that now. You think we’ll face similar dangers soon?”

“I have no idea what’s coming next,” I said. “That’s the problem. And that’s what you’re going to need to figure out if you want to keep doing what you’re doing.”

Wilkerson frowned and looked at McKerrow. McKerrow just shook his head.

“What?” Wilkerson asked me.

“I need you to find the next problem,” I said.

“Ah. You expect a problem, then?”

“Yes.”

“Any tips on what it might be?”

“No.”

“Bit vague of an assignment then, eh?”

“It is, but that’s what I need. You want the job or you want to get on the carpentry crew? Which, you know, is a pointless threat, because it’s not like I ever force people to do things. But maybe that’s the next problem that we’re going to be facing. You ever think this job is not cut out for a man like me?”

“Often,” McKerrow said.

Wilkerson frowned and smacked his buddy on the ear.

“Ignore my overly loquacious companion,” Wilkerson said. “He often speaks before he’s had time to think. It’s an issue he claims to be addressing, and yet never seems to make headway. We understand it is a challenging position, leadership. Hence why us lowlifes have avoided taking the gig. Not that we’d been offered one, but I like to think I would make the right decision. I, for one, would prefer to continue our shadow-y relationship. We had a daily check-in with Nikolai, roughly around now. Work for you?”

“If I’m around,” I said. “For sure.”

“And if you are not?”

“Then we’ll have to come up with something else.”

“Practical as always.”

“Anything to report right now?”

“About what?”

“Coggeshall.”

“Nothing comes to mind.”

“Northwoods,” McKerrow said.

“Ah, right,” Wilkerson nodded.

“What’s going on with the Northwoods?” I asked.

“As far as we can tell, there seems to be no hurry to return to their hold. None of the underlings have been called to work, it would seem that they intend to rely on your hosting for some time longer.”

“That’s fine,” I said.

“Make a note about that being fine, McKerrow.”

McKerrow frowned, and as soon as Wilkerson looked away, the little battenti mimed writing a note in the air and threw away his mimed pen, which I thought was a nice follow-through.

“What’s the mood like around here?” I asked.

“We’re not really good at that sort of intelligence,” Wilkerson said. “Not exactly big on the talking to everyone so much as the sneaking around and listening to conversations thought to be private.”

“Are you hearing anyone who is particularly dissatisfied?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. McKerrow?”

“No,” McKerrow said, popping the last of my sandwich into his mouth.

I looked down at my empty plate, then at McKerrow chewing.

“Impressive,” I said.

“Do not encourage him,” Wilkerson said. “He is hard enough to live with as is.”

“You two live together?”

“We battenti prefer communal dwelling, though I must say I am starting to become enamored with the idea of living on my own after that last bout of flatulence Langdon suffered through.”

“Okay, well, thank you for sharing,” I said.

“We will likely see you tomorrow. Hopefully with some juicy gossip. A good day to you, your grace.”

“Good sandwich,” McKerrow said. Then the two waltzed out together. I definitely had the feeling that if I stopped watching them even for a moment, they’d disappear.

I sat there for longer than I’d care to admit before I realized I had nothing left to eat, and I hadn’t eaten anything. Then I made another sandwich and ate by my lonesome.

22

Over the next few days, a whole new routine began to form. And I liked it.

I would spend most of the nights working out on my own, then check on the egg first thing in the morning, where really nothing seemed to be happening. Darius took to carrying the egg around with him because he’d grown tired of just sitting in my bedroom all day every day.

I’d have breakfast with Clarissa, something that was a mixture of meeting and social hour. Which was nice, because it was so vastly different from any meetings I had with Nikolai. Or, frankly, many of the meals I had with him.

I resumed training, mostly with sword and shield, mostly with Carpophorus, and he actually had a few kind things to say about me. That I was maybe improving. But when I told him my skill scores, he just swore and doubled down on beating the shit out of me in all new and exciting ways.

This was about the time I was informed of how poorly I wore armor. Zoey and Carpophorus worked with Duke Ginsburg to make sure I got more efficient at putting full-plate on. And that I started wearing armor correctly. How to layer things properly. In the past, I’d been rather lax about what armor went where, slapping basically any chest-plate on over chainmail. But there was actually quite a bit about armor I didn’t know. And Zoey wasn’t about to give me a beautiful set of mithril armor only for me to wear it like an asshole.

Training in arms and armor took up a good portion of my daylight hours, and it was enjoyable. I mean, there was still a lot of pain and the feeling like I wasn’t really progressing, but I liked the physicality of it.

My daily lunch with McKerrow and Wilkerson quickly grew to include Ragnar, Skeld, and Bear. They were fun lunches, but there just wasn’t that much to report about Coggeshall. We were just in work mode. Things were getting done, but nothing exciting was happening.

Minus that one day of sun when I forced a snow party to happen, the weather remained shitty. Some days it was shittier than others, but really the best days were when it only snowed a little and the wind wouldn’t knock you off the wall. Which was a genuine issue the guards were facing. The poor bastards were being blown off the wall into the huge snowdrifts on the other side, and then it was a huge ordeal to rescue them. It involved a lot of ropes and even more time.

Nathalie even proposed pulling the guards inside, to just leave the walls unguarded. I vetoed that idea, but got the stink eye from Nathalie in return.

The scouts and rangers only went on short patrols, and even then, they had to mount a rescue one night when a ranger broke an ankle sliding into a bowl under a particularly nasty pine.

But in spite of the weather, there seemed to be an undercurrent of happiness about Coggeshall.

Apartments were being finished and doled out, which meant all the temporary housing could be removed, and the large empty spaces were being turned into fun places.

Something like a bowling alley, with hyper-smooth stone floors covered with talcum powder, was built, and I was introduced to the game of slideyrock. It was a bit like curling, but with more dwarves and less ice.

The biggest change came one night when I got word that there was a tavern on the fifth floor.

Naturally, I had to investigate. When I did, I found exactly that: a tavern, on the fifth floor. From the outside it looked like a normal apartment, but once you opened the door, you entered into a different little world. There was a bar along one wall, carpeted floors, a small stage to one end, and several tables of various sizes, two covered in red felt very clearly for playing some game or other. They looked very much like poker tables.

A young man paled when I walked inside, and I noticed that the rest of his customers sidled away.

“Uh,” the young barkeep said, “welcome, your grace.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Quaint little place you’ve got here.”

“Yes, your grace. I mean, thank you, your grace.”

“Got a name?”

“No.”

“You or the tavern?”

“My name is Charles, your grace.”

“Charles, did you do all this?” I asked, pointing to the furniture and the carpet and the bar.

“Yes, your grace.”

“Really wish you were a carpenter here.”

“I am. I mean, I thought I was.”

“But if you’re busy with carpentry, who’s going to run your tavern?”

The man blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what I’d said. Then he just shook his head.

“Are you, I mean, I was afraid you would, I mean, I can keep it?” he asked.

“Don’t see why not,” I said. “Probably need to structure a few things with Timurlan and maybe see about getting a kitchen attached. Is there a kitchen attached?”

“No. I didn’t think—“

“I’ll put Harmut on that. Let’s get a kitchen attached so people can eat as well, and we’ll make sure there’s a guard or two stationed, erm, outside? Makes patrons nervous if there’s a guard inside. The beer—“

“No beer yet, your grace. Just some mead. We, uh, I sto-o took from the kitchens.”

“Okay, so we need to get some actual mead and beer here, right? Maybe not hard stuff just yet. Bit trapped in here for winter. Maybe that’s a thing we do — hard alcohol in summers. Just spit-balling here. Do you have the beers on tap? I mean, the mead?”

“I have a barrel of it there,” he said, pointing to a barrel balanced on a nice wooden stand.

“Gotta say, kid,” I said with a hearty slap of the bar, “I like what you’ve done. You need a name for the place, though. Can’t just be ‘the tavern on the fifth floor.’ Although, come to think of it, The Tavern on Fifth does have a ring.”

“I can name it that.”

“It’s your place, kid,” I said, not wanting to admit I’d already forgotten his name. “You call it whatever you want.”

Then I had a mug of mead, which was fine, bit warm for my tastes, and left a gold coin on the bar, which was a little much, being that he wasn’t charging for the mead. We really didn’t have much of an actual economy as of yet. I figured that was another conversation to have with the council.

Just not that night.

Dinners were nearly always with the nobles. Not exactly by my choice — it’s just that they found me and sat with me the first few nights, so it became something of a tradition. And I ran out of places to hide from them. Which is mostly a joke.

I enjoyed, for the most part, the chats we had over the incredible fare. I couldn’t really tell if we were getting great food because we were the nobles or if Coggeshall food was just damn good. I’d like to believe the latter, but I fear the former.

The talks with Lord Northwoods and his brothers were always enlightening, and I learned an awful lot about the Empire of Glaton. I got a better picture of its history, how it started as a rather small nation, barely more than a city, right at the base of a large mountain range, and how it became a safe haven for travelers. How it served as the backstop for multiple monstrous invasions, notably some rather rough ones with goblins.

Then, Glaton pushed to the south, conquering neighbors until it reached the sea. That was a turning point in the country’s history. Once there was a viable trading port, money started to flow in, and Glaton became one of the first countries in the area to keep a standing army. To have professional full-time soldiers.

The spread east happened next, steam-rolling over a few small warlords before another monster attack. Then to the north, going up to Arenberg and over to WarWaters. And finally, the relatively recent expansion westward and then northwesterly in a non-violent sort of conquest, taking Osterstadt. It was fascinating, even if I managed to zone out a few times. It was much harder to remember all the Emperors, though the girls, Eliza and Marguerite loved quizzing me on all eighty-seven of them. Some I could remember easily, like the guy who reigned for a hundred and twenty years, and then died in battle. Tormund the Eternal. Or The Demon Queen, Elizabeth Edgemond. Or the Day King, Euric Edgemond, who was crowned at sunrise, and fell down the stairs at sunset, and thus never ruled in the night.

The dinners also gave me a chance to learn about the major houses, the families who had held the imperial throne over the years, and how the Edgemond family seemed to have an overabundance of absolute assholes in their family tree. I began to understand why it was so important for Clarissa to keep her heritage a secret. I mean, one of her direct ancestors was known as the Demon Queen. That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.

There was no shortage of discussion regarding current events either. Each evening wound up with Eliza declaring an end to talking about the Emperor when discussion edged more towards shouting. Then we’d get into the wars around the Empire. The sieges happening in Furstenbrunn and Bergamo and how the Legions were all tapped. That the call could come for our Legion to head south at any minute, save, of course, that there was no Emperor to actually send the order, and how the head of the Legion was a bit of a tool and couldn’t be bothered to do his job without being forced by the Emperor. That there was still fighting around Arenberg, with sightings of small bands of Mahrduhm troops in the Bone Finger Woods. Count Northwoods suggested there might be a hidden means of conveyance over, or under, the mountains there.

Those talks were often the quietest, when there was actual fear involved. And I couldn’t help but feel odd, it was a little like we were insulated from all of that by virtue of being so far away from everything. We didn’t really have to involve ourselves directly.

The one real downside to the dinners was, naturally, Asshole McTraitorface. Whatever niceties he developed for that one night, that one dance, evaporated over the rest of his time there. He was back to being the asswipe I’d met on the river that day way back in what seemed like pre-historic times.

Still, when Asshole McTraitorface got that way, his sister, Eliza, was pretty quick to jump on him. Which did little to improve him, but it tended to shut him up for a spell. The good nights were the ones where Duke Ginsburg would send Asshole McTraitorface off to polish his armor. Little was sweeter than seeing the look of disbelief on the kid’s face. Getting him to confess to setting me up for murder would have been pretty nice, but in the meantime, this would do.

23

It’s hard to say how long things might have gone on that way. It was pretty nice. I found myself having a good time. Enjoying my friends, my food, even myself. It might have gone on indefinitely, maybe even until spring.

But someone had to go and piss me off.

Namely, Lord Northwoods.

He cornered me one morning, and just had to know if I knew who my chancellor really was.

Did I realize I’d entrusted my holding to a member of the truly untrustworthy Edgemond family? That I was putting my entire holding in danger? That if one Edgemond was around, it was only a matter of time before more came along and then there went the neighborhood?

He didn’t actually say ‘there went the neighborhood,’ but that’s what he meant.

I listened to him rant and rave about the evil Edgemonds, and then, because I was weak and I don’t know, trying to be nice, I thanked him for the information and said it was something I would think about.

He smiled, left, and I felt like an asshole. Because I’d been an asshole.

I was so fucking irritated at myself, I wanted to leave. To have some time to myself.

And because I was the fucking duke, I could do that. When Carpophorus came to start beating me up in the name of training, I told him to sit on his thumb and rotate.

Which I don’t think he did, but I appreciated the look of utter confusion it elicited.

Instead of training, I decided I’d go far, far away to check in on Lee. Maybe have some donuts.

I walked out to the wall, jumped over into the snow, and waded a ways out before I hollered for Fritz.

Then, because Fritz isn’t exactly the type of creature to hop on down just because I yelled, I waited in the snow. I maybe got a few prinkies to run around, and maybe even set up a prinky race. I did find out, helpfully, that prinkies don’t really sink in the snow. They can run along on top. Which made the prinky race incredibly amusing. Nothing like fluffy things tromping around and attacking each other in an attempt to be first in a completely pointless event.

Fritz slammed right into the race, sending prinkies and glitter flying left and right.

He looked at me with his huge bird eyes, and I could see he felt suspicious.

“What?” I asked.

Fritz scratched out a message in the snow.

wat u ned?

“I need a ride to visit Lee,” I said. “The northern wall. Mind taking me?”

He squawked, picked me up in his huge beak, and threw me up in the air.

I flailed for a moment before landing on the feathered back of the roc. As soon as Fritz felt me on his back, he launched into the air.

His wings snapped out wide and beat at the air. In heartbeats, we were high above Coggeshall, right below the clouds.

I saw a guard waving at me, and I waved back, right before a low slung cumulus seemed to eat us.

It was wet and cold in the clouds, and I pulled myself tight against Fritz, hoping his feathers would offer some sort of protection against the biting wind. It helped enough to make the flight merely miserable.

24

We never left the clouds, and I couldn’t tell if that was a choice Fritz made or one that nature forced upon us. Every once in a while, Fritz would drop down to take a quick peeky-peek around the area. Fritz might make a little course correction, and then hop back up into the clouds. I wasn’t sure why he did that instead of just flying along under the clouds, but it’s not like talking to Fritz is easy to do in the best conditions, let alone while riding on his back in the middle of a snowstorm.

Despite the conditions, we made it to NorthFort without trouble. Fritz chose to drop out of the clouds in a tight dive and land hard, sending a beautiful spray of snow everywhere.

“Show off,” I said as I slid off his back and dropped onto the ground.

It was always farther from Fritz than I thought.

I picked myself up and looked around to see who might have been watching. Never a good look to face plant in the snow.

No one.

I frowned.

There wasn’t any work going on anywhere. I couldn’t see any tents. It was just snow. Everywhere. Even the lake had frozen enough to be snow-covered, save for a few pockets where the water was moving along quickly.

“Fritz,” I said, sweeping my gaze across the empty landscape, “mind hopping into the air and seeing if there’s anything to see from on high?”

Fritz made a soft sort of caw, then lifted almost silently into the air.

I pulled the Sword of Weight from my bag and held it at the ready while walking toward the area I’d last remembered to be the camp.

Slowly, carefully, I moved through the snow, making sure my head was on a swivel.

Above, the dark shape of the roc made large rings around, like he was riding the wind.

There were lumps in the snow ahead, and though my first impulse was to just stab the lump, I realized there was also the chance that kobolds slept in the snow like huskies. Maybe they buried themselves in the snow to stay warm. Or maybe these were igloos of some sort. Snow shelters.

I brushed the snow off the lump.

A frozen kobold.

Dead.

I knelt next to the corpse and gently brushed more snow off him. A crude bolt made of black wood stuck out of his neck. The frozen bubbles around the kobold’s snout, plus the black tinge to his gums, made me suspect the bolt had been poisoned. I didn’t touch the bolt or move the kobold.

Instead, I went to the next lump.

Another corpse.

The next, larger lump of snow, hid the remains of a burned tent, and a partially cooked kobold inside. It was also dead.

I was going through a set of very conflicting emotions. On the one hand, rage was mounting. Someone had killed my people. They would have to pay. But there was a growing and gnawing fear at the same time, because Lee had been out here.

I moved around faster and faster until I was basically just pushing snow around.

Fritz finally noticed what I was doing, so he swept down and landed right next to me. Then he got his wings going hard enough to knock me off my feet.

Snow went everywhere. Behold Fritz, the world’s greatest snowblower.

He revealed a massacre. Dead bodies everywhere, burned tents, destroyed things. Most of which were so busted and broken, there was no simple way to tell what they had even been.

I walked slowly amongst the carnage, trying to get an idea of what had happened, even though I had my suspicions.

Fritz moved to a new spot and blew another chunk of the snow away, only revealing more of the same.

Finally, I found the proof I wanted: a single dead goblin. A kobold had clearly died killing the goblin, as they were entwined together, each other’s dagger buried to the hilt in the other.

As Fritz moved the snow, I continued my investigation, trying to get a grasp on what transpired. Everything I found pointed to one idea: the goblins had ambushed the kobolds at night, and it had been a slaughter. All I found were corpses and destruction.

Nothing useful had been left behind, except the blocks carved out from the stone. All the tools were gone, all the weapons were gone, even the kitchen supplies were missing. And obviously, all the food was gone as well. I was a little surprised the goblins hadn’t taken the kobolds’ bodies, given what the nobles had told me about their predilection for eating anything. Although, to be fair, I doubted the nobles had ever dealt with any actual goblins. Maybe they didn’t eat their victims, but it seemed like they might.

Of course, maybe they were just leaving the bodies in nature’s freezer for now. Or they’d used too much poison, and therefore, ruined their meat.

More and more bodies.

Death everywhere.

As we got more snow moved, a trail began to appear. Bodies led away from the lake, as if there had either been a coordinated retreat or just an attempt to get away. There were so few goblins, but here or there, a kobold looked to have made a stand. As the trail of corpses continued, there were more stands, and more goblins. Night goblins. And I got an idea where the kobolds had decided to make their last stand. The rolegurdaüdi cave.

25

There had been a brutal fight at the mouth of the cave, that much was obvious. I saw blood frozen to nearly every surface, a gruesome mixture of the greenish-black goblin blood and the crimson kobold. Corpses, and bits of corpses, were strewn everywhere. Lots and lots of goblins, but also all the guards Nathalie sent along, and, obviously, kobolds. More kobolds than I thought possible.

Oddly, I saw multiple kohemoths. They were almost universally surrounded by literal piles of dead goblins. I couldn’t help but stop and stare at each one, trying to understand. The kohemoths seemed to be remarkably powerful — if they had been properly armed, or even just armored, they might have outlasted the goblins. Though it was clear they hadn’t been working together. I wondered if there was a way to get them to operate as a unit. That would be remarkably dangerous.

Still, they hadn’t stopped the goblin rampage. It didn’t seem like the goblins cared how many casualties they suffered. They just threw bodies at the kobolds until the kobolds were dead.

Moving farther into the caves, I saw more and more death. More corpses. And plenty of ice. Most of it blood-ice, some of it water-ice. But not like the stuff you get in Philly.

I reached the far end of the cave, and no sign of any non-kobolds who’d come out. No Lee, no Essie.

I turned around to look back the way I’d come. Fritz peeked in from the outside.

“No one’s in here,” I said.

He made an eagle-like screech.

It echoed around the cave, and I reflexively covered my ears. It was so fucking loud that bits of ice on the ceiling cracked and fell down everywhere.

“Easy there,” I shouted back.

He squawked back, quiet this time. Except, even then, it was pretty loud.

“Better,” I said. “No one’s here.”

Very softly, from behind, I heard someone say, “We’re here.”

I turned quickly, sword up, because, well, instinct.

“Is that you, Montana?” someone asked. I was pretty sure it was Lee.

“I’m here,” I said. “Is that you, Lee? Where are you guys?”

“We have a wall up, and, uh,” Lee said, “just give us a moment and we’ll get out to you.”

“Who’s in there?” I asked.

Really, I just should have been patient, because a hole appeared in the wall, and I saw a group of bedraggled survivors huddled together in a foul little hidey-hole. The odor was overpowering, and I took a few involuntary steps back just so I could breathe.

Clearly, the survivors had some of that same feeling, because they scrambled out remarkably fast. And they were remarkably few.

Lee looked like shit. His face was covered in grime, his clothes were torn in a hundred places, and he cradled one arm as if it were useless.

Essie, our geomancer, helped Lee out of the hole in the stone. She too had seen rough times, with her clothes in tatters, bruises all over her body, and dried vomit over the remains of her shirt.

There were ten other kobolds in various states of injury, as well as three kobolds who didn’t make it, their corpses in a sort of gentle repose, including one snowbold.

I wanted to jump past the survivors and see to Baltu, to give him a shake in the hopes he might have been sleeping. But I looked to Lee, and I stiffened my upper lip.

“That’s not me,” a dirty kobold said with a sly smile on his face. He pulled his hood back to reveal a familiar face, newly devoid of feathers.

“Baltu!” I shouted, pulling him into a hug.

He made an eek noise, then an oomph noise, and then he just sort of accepted the hug before slapping me on the back.

“Can’t breathe,” he muttered.

I released him, and he stumbled back a bit.

Without pausing, I gave Lee a similar hug.

“What the fuck happened?” I asked.

“Hard to say, exactly,” Lee replied, already walking for the entrance. “Mind if we get a little daylight before explaining the mess?”

“Whatever you need,” I said. “Are there any other survivors?”

I only got silence as an answer as we stepped through the remains of the horrific battle that had taken place. I caught a range of emotions across their faces as we walked: some recognition, memories of violence, sacrifice, and fear.

Once outside, Fritz stood tall, his form rather majestic against the bright grey sky, and I felt a collective relief as the small group of survivors saw him.

Some kobolds rushed over and hugged the giant bird.

It was touching. Though I found I had to swallow a little jealousy. The petulant child in me wanted to know why I didn’t have the same heroic sheen as Fritz.

However, the action had quite the effect on Fritz. He stood up taller and puffed out his feathers, like he realized for the first time just how important he was to the Coggeshallians.

“Would you mind if we just went home?” Lee asked. “I presume you have found no survivors save us?”

“None,” I replied. “And we can head out. There’s, I mean, I can’t see any reason to stick around here.”

I thought about checking for more survivors. See if any kobolds had made a run for it and got far enough away to escape the goblin death machine. But what was the chance they would have stuck around close enough for me to find them? They probably would have just headed back toward Coggeshall.

“Mind flying us home?” I asked Fritz.

He just lowered himself as far down as he could go, preparing himself for flight.

26

It was an entirely different mood flying home. I sat in between Lee and Baltu while the rest of the crew spread out wherever they could find a spot to attach themselves to Fritz’s leather harness.

“Is Essie okay?” I asked, looking back at her lifeless body. The kobolds had had to help her up, and Lee had had to tie her into the Fritz harness. She’d yet to say a word to me. Or to anyone, that I’d seen.

Lee shook his head. “Hard to tell. She had to make sure her wall blended in with the rest of the cave, which meant she was outside for the kobolds’ last stand. From what she said, it was a brutal battle, and she has been beating herself up for not saving more of them. She has said little since the fight.”

I sighed. I hated how much shit my people had been through without me.

Somewhere in the middle of the flight, Lee started talking, explaining what had happened.

The Coggeshall crew arrived at NorthFort in high spirits, and spent the first day setting up their little work village. They put out sand on pathways, got workshops going, made lots of little fires, and had a big cookout for the first feast.

They had two days of work where they made some real progress on getting materials ready. Lee made some drawings of the fort, did a few walkthroughs with Baltu, and they felt confident in their plan for finishing the place up on the quick. Lots of blocks were gathered and prepped for use. It was all going so well, until the fourth night.

Lee woke in the middle of the night to screams and the clash of metal. Baltu and a few others ran in and got Lee moving toward the cave, with Essie in tow. There were goblins everywhere, wearing all-black armor and shooting crossbow bolts every which way. Some goblins rode wolves, or animals that looked like wolves, and they tore through the kobold camp, cutting with wicked looking blades.

Baltu got as many people as he could to the cave, and as Essie made the hidey hole, a small group of the kobold military that remained prepared to make a last stand. They shoved Lee, Baltu, and the others into the safe room and Essie sealed it up. They had to wait in there and listen to their saviors be slaughtered by the unending stream of goblins.

Lee learned the goblin language and heard the conversation that took place out in the cave. A group of goblins discussed the massacre, and what they should do with the remains of the blocks. If there was something that could be done to take possession of the wall now, without the fort finished.

There was quite a bit of talk about the plans for the fort. If someone had found them, if they would be usable in finishing the fortress after the Empire had been pushed out of the valley.

Then the goblins left.

Essie snuck inside at that point, and there had been a very short debate about leaving the hole, a debate that stopped when they heard goblin shouts from outside the cave.

Instead, the group stayed in the relative safety of the hole and waited in the dark. Huddling together for warmth, until it started to get too hot.

Everyone had given up hope, until they heard Fritz.

No one could tell me how long they’d been in the hole; they’d lost track of time completely. But I knew it had to have been days. Days where the rest of Coggeshall had been having snow festivals, feasts, and fun. I didn’t mention any of that to the survivors.

27

When we landed in Coggeshall, we went straight to the hospital, where healers worked hard to stabilize two of the kobolds who seemed on the edge of death. Because the wounds had had time to fester, healing magic wasn’t possible. There was too much disease, and healing magic just made things worse.

Lee’s arm still had a crossbow bolt partially embedded — he was just lucky it hadn’t been one of the poisoned ones. But regardless, a lot of pus and a foul smell came out of the puncture wound. Bright red tendrils ran under his skin, a clear sign of a severe infection.

He lay on the bed with his eyes closed. I could tell he was having a rather intense inner debate.

Baltu, in a bed across the way, was still wrapped in his cloak, his hood still pulled up high to cover his head.

“Who was the other snowbold?” I asked.

“Vreggork,” Baltu said. “He’d gone with us to be our scout. Last into the safe room, and he blocked a barrage of bolts to keep us alive.”

There were others trying to come into the hospital, but the healers kept everyone out. I was only there because I’d carried some kobolds in — I had the sense that me being the duke actually had nothing to do with it.

Essie didn’t seem injured in any obvious way, but she’d completely shut down. Not quite catatonic, but not much different. She had to be guided around, bathed, fed, and she never seemed to blink. I wondered if she’d slept anytime recently.

After seeing everyone taken care of, I sat down next to Lee.

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“Hard question to answer,” he replied. “There’s a lot to process. Survivor’s guilt and all.”

“I’ve been there.”

“Three wars. I have too. It will pass. I will be fine again, this much I know. The luck and curse of having experienced this many times before.”

There was a sense of calm radiating from Lee, but I could see the emotional tremors just under the surface. He was working through his mess.

“I want to ask about the ambush,” I said, “but—“

“Not much I can tell you,” Lee replied. “I don’t think anyone left alive understands much about what happened. We were all just lucky to have been on the far side of the camp. They came from the west, and just swept across everything. But there were no signs in the days prior. We never saw any goblins, and Vreggork didn’t report anything to us. In his last hour, he definitely went on about his failures as a scout, but you’d probably need to talk to Baltu for more on that.”

“You think the goblins are going to keep after us?”

Lee took in a breath, let it out slowly, then nodded. “Probably. They want this valley for themselves, and it seems like they’re more than happy to fight in the winter.”

“What would you do?”

“When?”

“Now?”

“If I was you?”

“Yeah.”

“We are so different — I’m not sure there’s an answer I can give you. I’d be tempted to give them the valley. Head back to the thin veil of civilization the capital city offers.”

“Just leave?”

“If I were you? Maybe, yes. You could live a great life in the capital. Maybe.”

“Seems a bit cowardly.”

“It’s choosing life over death.”

“You think the goblins are going to kill me?”

“I think they will try. And I think winning a war against them will be very costly. There are so many of them, and they’re clever. Sneaky. After this experience with them, I’m positive we have all vastly underestimated their capabilities. Now, if you want to ask me what I would tell you to do if I were me and you were you, I don’t think I’d tell you to go. If you go, Coggeshall is done for. There’s no Coggeshall without you. You are the bulwark of this place, and you have to make a choice about how many others can die without destroying yourself.”

“You think death is inevitable?”

“Certainly in this case. This is a war of survival. One group will win, one group will die. There’s no way around it. If they were trying to scare us, they would have let survivors go. To spread the story. This was an attempt at total destruction. They killed everyone they could and burned everything they couldn’t carry.”

“Us or them,” I said, getting used to the idea.

“You see a different possible outcome?”

“I mean, I doubt it. But I’m not, I mean, do you think there’s a chance we’re painting them as evil when they’re not?”

“The night goblins?”

“Yeah. Like, everyone thought the ursus were evil, and now they’re a part of the community.”

“The ursus never tried to kill me—“

“They besieged our city and had to—“

“A subset of them did. And what did you to do the besiegers?”

“Killed them.”

“Did you think any of them might have been kind or—“

“I get what you’re saying. It’s hard to write off an entire group of people in that way.”

Lee motioned for me to get a little closer, so I leaned in.

“You are thinking about this through the lens of someone from the last place,” he whispered. “This world, Vuldranni, isn’t the same. Here, it’s entirely possible a group of beings can be wholly and entirely evil. Is there a chance there are good goblins? Of course. But I don’t think these are them.”

I sat up straight, leaning the chair back on two legs so I could stare at the ceiling. It was a hard concept to feel right with.

“I don’t know what to say to that,” I said. “I’m not sure I’m cut out to believe in the world in that way.”

“What was it that one asshat liked to say?” Lee asked. “The facts don’t care about your feelings?”

“I feel like there were quite a few asshats who liked to say that.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true. I get where you’re coming from, and obviously I’m sitting here holding down some rather intense feelings on the issue, so you should take my rage into account. But I don’t think eradicating the night goblins, at least from this valley, is the wrong idea. I think it is, rather, the best choice we have. Killing them will save the lives of your followers, while leaving them alive sentences your followers to a short lifetime being hunted. And, likely, being sacrificed to whatever horrific thing they venerate.”

“Well, fuck,” I said.

“This is why they pay you the big bucks. I can counsel you all you like, but you’re the one who has to make the decision.”

“Likely I’m the one to do the killing as well.”

“That’s long been your choice, Montana. But there are plenty here willing to fight for you. You need but ask.”

I patted his good shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Heal up, Lee,” I said. “I’m not done with you yet.”

28

I pushed my way through the crowd that had gathered outside the hospital. I needed time to think.

Hugo, however, had other plans. As soon as he saw me, he came storming at me with a look that told me immediately I was in trouble.

“Your grace,” he said in a tone that made it clear he actually wanted to say, ‘You fuckwad.’

“Hugo,” I answered with a slight nod. I kept walking, forcing him to keep pace with me.

“Where did you run off to this morning?” he asked.

“I had to go on an impromptu rescue mission,” I replied.

“It would have been preferable if you had let me know in advance.”

“I agree. My mistake, I’m still getting used to having a you.”

“I, uh, yes your grace.”

“Now, I need you to get the council together.”

“For a meeting?”

“Yes.”

“I already have a few meetings scheduled for you. For example, Darius—“

“I mean this in as respectful a way as I can right now, but fuck your schedule. Things have changed, and we need to move quickly. Council. First, though, I need to speak with Hetsesta. Any chance you know where she is? Or who she is?”

“Consider your schedule cleared, your grace. And of course I know Hetsesta. I can find her and send her to you. Though, however, I might ask you to wait somewhere for her?”

“Sure, second floor—“

“She will be on the way to you shortly, your grace. Then I will gather your council.”

“Thank you, Hugo,” I said.

“Your grace,” he replied, and scurried off.

I climbed the stairs four at a time, bounding up as if that would somehow get the historian to me faster. It did get me to the food faster, so that was at least some minor good. I managed to get a solid selection of proteins on my plate, and some in my belly before Hetsesta came walking in with her pet prinky.

She sat down next to me, her prinky hopping up in her lap and looking at me with serious judgement in its eyes.

“You asked for me to come have lunch with you?” she asked.

“I thought it might be nice,” I replied.

“I might find it a more proper invitation if you were willing to part with some of that, what was it called—?”

I smiled, pulled out the infinite bag of pizza, and set it on the table for her.

“Pizza,” I said.

She grinned and gave my cheek a grandmotherly squeeze.

“You’d think a historian could remember the name of a delicious food,” she said.

“Bah,” I replied, “I just assume your head is already squashed full. No room for food.”

She chuckled. “I take it you would like to probe my squashed head?”

“Sort of,” I said. “I need to know about goblins. Everything you can tell me.”

She pulled an incredibly delicious looking slice of pizza out of the bag, and just smiled as she stared at it. Then, she took a bite, closed her eyes, and grinned as she chewed.

“Goblins,” she said after she swallowed. “I hate goblins.”

“Most everyone seems to hate them,” I said.

“They are miserable creatures. A pestilence on the land.”

“Do you know much about them?”

“Probably more than some, certainly less than others. What is it you seek to know?”

“I mean, as much as I can.”

“Is there a goal with this research, or are you just generally curious about the species?”

“It seems like we’re about to go to war with the night goblins in the valley. They want to kill us. And I’m not sure I’m on board with that plan.”

“I would hope not,” Hetsesta said through a mouthful. She thought for a second. “There is probably little I can tell you to help your war effort. I haven’t really studied that much of the world outside the history of Glaton. A bit here and there. I can tell you about past battles with goblins, what has been discussed as to why they’re so warlike. But I can’t offer much beyond my own vague interpretations of the goblinoid activities through the lens of Glatonese history.”

“I’d take anything.”

“Well, I will apologize beforehand that I will probably go quickly, and ramble. It is the provenance of the historian to ramble, and being an ancient crone has hardly helped.”

“Oh, pshaw, you’re not ancient.”

“And I am a crone?”

“I mean...”

She slapped my leg and smiled at me.

Her prinky tried to bite me.

“Reginald,” Hetsesta snapped. “No biting.”

“He bites now?” I asked, scooting my chair back.

“He has become oddly protective of me,” she said. “His emerging personality traits and quirks are fascinating. He grows more into an individual day by day.”

“Makes me feel both better and worse about un-summoning them.”

“You have enough to worry about — Let this particular issue go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She raised an eyebrow at me, then sighed.

“Goblins,” she started, “have been around as long as anyone has been recording history. They seem to be — well, there doesn’t seem to be a marked difference between what I have read about goblins two thousand or three thousand years ago and now. No cultural developments, no real evolution in government. The only difference seems to be with technology. They can take and adapt the tools of the peoples around them. So as we use metal swords, so they copy that and use metal swords. But if we were, rather, some of the elven peoples who eschew the use of metal and stone and only form items out of the living wood they surround themselves with, I would imagine goblins near them might do the same. Or, rather, a corrupted version thereof. Obviously, the goblins never replicate perfectly; instead they adapt to their own twisted needs and demented desires. Swords that are purposefully rusty and misshapen to make wounds jagged and infected. They have always shown a callous disregard for the lives of their own, only hating and hoping to kill others. But I always felt that if they managed to rid the world of all but goblins, they would just as quickly turn on their own kind in an anarchic massacre.

“As far as Glaton goes,” she continued, “there have been several incidents with goblins that warranted mention in the histories. Most of them have been minor incursions, small attacks. A few are more notable, the longest being The Great Invasion of 331, lasting nine years before they were finally beaten back. It was a somewhat unique period, as far as I know. No other location has been wholly under goblin control for a continuous period. There was immense damage done to the environment, towns were razed, whole areas of the country were rid of all intelligent life. Some areas seemed rid of all life together. Scars were burned through forests, farmland salted and destroyed. Many of their actions belied sense. Why fight as hard as they did only to destroy everything they fought to take? The Great Invasion was something of a turning point for Glaton, when the Empire became about more than just itself. For it was the Empire that pushed the goblins back into the Gloom from whence they sprang, and it was the Empire who did not attempt to keep the lands they cleared from the goblin menace. Of course, over time, the Empire did take most of that land, but then, Glaton was seen as the saviors of the world. Sorry, I had to throw a little of our own history in there.”

“As you do,” I said.

“Many small incursions continued. A town would report a small goblin raid, and the Legion would swarm. There was no desire to have a repeat of the larger war. But even with such stringent measures, there came a day when the goblins pushed back the Legion. Three times, goblins invaded Glaton in force, striking deep into the heart of the Empire and getting quite close to the capital. Three times, heroes rose and pushed back the goblins. It was an incredible violence that stunned nearly everyone who has studied it. The Green Tide, or the Triple Invasion. 1035, 1038, and 1042.”

“Forgive a foolish duke, but what year is it now?”

She frowned, shaking her head. “1520, your grace.”

“So nearly five hundred years since the last time the goblins invaded?”

“Nearly. Four hundred and seventy-eight, to be more accurate. But it would be foolish to think there have been no other incidents involving goblins since then. They are a constant menace, with small raids and attacks happening everywhere across the Empire. And it would seem that no amount of Legion activity can wholly eradicate them.”

“Any ideas on what changes things from a small raid to a full-on invasion?”

“I doubt I would have anything new to say on the subject, but from my limited research on the matter, I would guess it requires the right set of circumstances to present themselves. A place to build an adequate war party, a capable leader, poor reaction by the local government allowing the goblins to get a toe-hold in the region?”

“Which means we could be sitting in the path of another great invasion,” I said with a sigh.

“I’m afraid I lack information about what’s happening in our valley at present. I can’t make an educated guess, only a guess.”

“And what would your guess be?”

“That you would know enough to be correct. That if you think there is a budding invasion happening in our valley, there probably is.”

“Any advice?”

“Fight or flee, your grace. But both decisions would likely come with unpleasant consequences.”

“Lee said something similar.”

“Is he, I hesitate to ask, but is he hurt?”

I nodded. “The goblins attacked our construction group at the northern wall. Basically a total loss.”

“How many dead?”

“I’m still trying to get a good number, but it was bad. Very bad.”

“If that’s the case, I can only imagine your invasion hypothesis is more correct.”

“Well, shit.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“We really don’t have a good place to retreat to, do we?”

“Travel in the winter is not a simple affair. Especially for the numbers you’d have to move out of Coggeshall.”

“You think Osterstadt would be willing to take in refugees?”

“Not from you.”

“Maybe we could say they’re local farmers.”

“I don’t think that would fool them, your grace.”

“Stay and fight is really my preferred option. I just, you know, it would be easier without noncombatants to worry about.”

“I am not the one to have this conversation with, your grace,” she said, getting to her feet with Reginald held in one arm. “I can only educate about the past and make guesses about the present. I am not well versed in battle strategies, nor can offer good thoughts on it.”

“Any more advice?”

“Not at the moment. But I appreciate your desire to learn more about the past before charging headlong into the future. Growth, your grace.”

“Thank you?” I said, thinking it was kind of a backhanded compliment.

“You are welcome,” she said. She snagged a second slice of pizza before turning away.

29

The council looked glum. A rather terse conversation had been going in the room as I neared it, but it stopped altogether when I entered.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard what happened,” I said as I took my seat. “But just to make sure everyone is on the same page, I’m going to lay out what I saw. Total destruction of our construction camp at NorthFort. Those Fritz and I brought back are the only survivors, at least so far as we’ve been able to tell. We know it was goblins. There were a few goblin corpses among our dead. Lots of evidence of poison bolts, and from what Lee and Baltu said, the goblin numbers were, well, high. Very high. I also spoke to Hetsesta to get some understanding about past goblin incidents, and I’m of the opinion we are looking at another great goblin invasion.”

Harmut swore softly, and Nathalie’s face went rather pale.

“Thoughts on how we proceed?” I asked.

There were a lot of sighs and looking around, but not a whole lot of talking.

“Does anyone thinking fighting is the wrong answer?” I asked.

“We have to fight,” Harmut replied.

Nathalie nodded.

I nodded.

Everyone nodded. That was the easy part of the conversation. Of course we’d fight. It was how we would fight that was the bigger issue.

“How do we do this, then?” I asked. “What do we even know about the night goblins?”

“You know as much as anyone,” Skeld said.

“Someone get Amber,” I said.

Ragnar — of course it was Ragnar — hopped up, eager as can be, and ran off out of the conference room.

“To start, we need to boost guards on the wall,” Nathalie said. “Have overlapping shifts, maybe even push the forest back a little. Make sure the snow doesn’t get up too high against the outside walls. I am pretty sure the goblins can walk on top of the snow, so if the drifts get right, they could just stroll on up.”

“Might be,” Harmut said. “I can work on gettin’ some lights what will stay on outside the walls. Bettin’ the night goblins will be comin’ at night. They like the darkness.”

“How’s the deep entrance?” I asked. “The one in the worm tunnel?”

“Guarded and, far as we can tell, hidden. They keep sending patrols, and we keep watching them.”

“No interactions?”

Nathalie shook her head. “Nikolai and I decided the best course of action was letting them walk the tunnel. Better chance of keeping everything on our end a secret. Do you want to change that?”

“Not yet,” I said. “I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do as far as our response goes.”

“Is there any response beyond full destruction that would be adequate?” Tarryn asked. “Is this not a declaration of war?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It certainly seems like war, but can we afford that?”

“Can we afford not to go to war?”

“What is it you worry about, duke?” Harmut asked.

“There’s a shitload of things I’m worried about here, not the least of which is the fight we’re facing. How many people of ours are going to die if we fight? What sort of chance—“

“How many people will die if we run?” Harmut snapped.

“Why the fuck are we even considering running?” Nathalie asked.

“Because if more of my people are going to die if we fight,” I said, “it’s better if we don’t.”

Skeld shook his head, and a quick glance about really showed the temperature of the room. It seemed like no one was on board with even discussing running.

“Look,” I said, “the point of this council is to discuss ideas, both good and bad. I don’t want to just assume one thing is right, even if it—“

“Okay,” Skeld jumped in, “let’s run through this. If you choose not to fight, you are either deciding to cede the valley to them and remain here. In which case, we’ll be at constant alert, always worried about maintaining the peace with goblins. Which it won’t. In which case, we’ll be besieged, and they’ll have more than enough room to grow to the point where we have no hope of stopping them.

“If you decide we’re going to run, well, where are we running? Osterstadt won’t open their gates for us, doubly so if we tell them the actual reason. The next nearest big city is Glaton. Which would take months to get to, especially in winter. So how many people is it okay to lose to cold or hunger? Or are you expecting to take all our food and livestock with us? In which case, you might as well plan on making it to Glaton sometime next year, because moving that many people and cows and worms and whatever is never going to happen.

“Or maybe you think you can get Fritz to fly everyone back and forth to someplace. At best, he can take, and I’m being both generous and simple because I don’t feel like doing hard math right now, fifty people. We’ve got north of five thousand. So five hundred trips for just people? How much of the Coggeshall wealth are you going to leave behind? I’d be willing to bet there’s more weight in the treasury than five thousand people. But let’s say it’s the same. Another five hundred trips? Then food? Provisions? Building supplies and weapons? Animals? Being unbelievably generous, let’s just say another five hundred trips. Flying from here to Osterstadt takes, roughly, a night or a day. Roughly. So just to evacuate everyone to Osterstadt via Fritz is seven hundred and fifty days, if Fritz never takes a single break.”

“Okay, so Fritz won’t work—“I started to mount a defense, but Skeld wasn’t having it.

“I’m not done yet,” he snapped. “If you say fuck it, we’re going to walk out, what chance do you think there is that goblins won’t be nipping at our heels? You know they have wolf-riders. And warg riders. And I’m willing to bet there’s a thousand other horrible things they ride that go much faster than the old, the injured, the infirm, or the pregnant. So are those acceptable losses?”

I slammed my fist on the table and knocked out a piece of the stone.

Harmut frowned at me.

“Shut the fuck up for a second, Skeld,” I yelled. “I’m not advocating running. I’m asking you, who knows this shit better than me, what the ramifications of our actions might be. Okay? If we ran, I doubt I would just tell everyone to hoof it and hope for the fucking best. Do you think that’s what I’m asking you all to do?”

Silence.

“In that situation, I would hold the line as a rearguard,” I said. “Which I’m pretty sure I could do for a long fucking time, long enough to get everyone into Osterstadt, if that’s what we needed.”

“And then you’d be dead,” Skeld said.

“If that was the price for everyone else to live, I’m happy to pay that fucking bill.”

“You dying would be rather problematic for Coggeshall,” Clarissa whispered.

“Because I need an heir first? Pretty sure there wouldn’t be anything to be heir of in that particular case.”

No one said a thing.

I dug a sharp bit of rock out of my hand and then wrapped my shirt around it to soak up the blood.

“I don’t think running is the right way to go about this,” I said. “But every last person in this room has criticized me for being so violent, so I’m trying not to always be blinded by rage and think killing is the answer.”

“Pretty sure killin’ been the only answer insofar as worked with goblins,” Harmut said.

“Then killing it is,” I said. “And I notice no one has said a damn thing about what we do if we lose.”

“The empire can’t lose,” Nathalie said, looking at me as if I was an idiot.

“We’re not the empire, not here, not right now. We can certainly lose and then require the empire to come and pick up the pieces. IN which case, the empire might win, but we’d still have lost.”

Ragnar poked his head in.

“Yelling done?” he asked.

“You could hear me yelling out there?” I asked.

“Tends to reverberate a bit, yeah.”

“I’m done yelling,” I snapped, then looked over to Harmut. “Can you make this place more soundproof?”

“Not without Essie,” Harmut replied.

“I’m hopeful she’ll recover.”

Harmut just shook his head softly.

Amber walked in, her twin tails moving almost hypnotically. She smiled at me, and my heart melted ever so much. It was involuntary. She was staggeringly beautiful, in an almost painful way. Then, as if she noticed the others, her smile disappeared, and she stood there, aloof, waiting.

“Can you give us a report on what’s going on outside the walls?” I asked.

“Winter,” she replied. “Heavy snow. Judging from what the scouts have seen, it is light so far. We should expect harsher winter to come. And, next year, worse.”

“Goblins?” I asked.

“We have seen signs of small camps. Maybe scouting parties. Never more than three or four goblins at a time. No direct contact, no direct sightings.”

“How close? Like, in the line of the trees just beyond the wall?”

She nodded. “Up high,” she said. “Likely to see over the walls.”

I pulled a pencil out of my pouch and sketched a quick map on the table. Harmut frowned again. I rolled my eyes at him.

“Where?” I asked.

She took my pencil, brushing my hand and sending shivers down my arm.

Was that an ability she had?

“Here,” she said, putting an x almost directly out from the front gate. “And here.” Over to the northwest. “Here.” Along the road. “Then one here and here.” Farther out to the west.

“But you’ve found no actual goblins?”

“Or seen them, your grace,” Amber whispered. “They have been adroit at avoiding us.”

I leaned back in my chair, glancing at the various pencil marks on the table. There were watch points all around us. The goblins had to know everything we did. Every time we left, they knew. And given how magic could make long-distance communication possible, I was willing to bet the main goblin camp knew whenever we left our little walled life.

“Do the scouts work at all times of day and night?” I asked.

Amber looked over at Nathalie.

Nathalie nodded. “To an extent.”

There seemed to be a disconnect, in that Nathalie wasn’t exactly sure. And she was trying to hide that she wasn’t sure.

“I’m willing to bet there’s more we haven’t found yet,” I said, realizing that now was not the time to deal with Nathalie. “The goblins are watching us, and when our scouts leave Coggeshall, some sort of announcement goes off, letting the other goblins scramble to hide. Do the scouts and rangers leave by the main gate?”

Amber nodded.

“Then there’s no way we’re going to find the goblins,” I said.

“There are no other exits,” Amber said, which wasn’t exactly true. There was still the deep exit into the tunnels and the top exit onto the outcropping a hundred plus feet up, neither of which would be particularly useful in getting scouts to the field they needed to scout.

“I’m not accusing you, or the other rangers, of doing anything wrong. I just think we all need to be aware of that issue. Because we have to assume they’re going to know if we send out any army to go up against them. Or if Fritz flies off. They’ll know.”

“Not sure we can develop a means of hiding Fritz,” Harmut said.

I shook my head. “We’re going to war,” I said. “That much I know. Anyone disagree?”

No one did.

“Nathalie,” I said, “I need you to figure out how many soldiers we have. We also need to know how many non-soldier citizens we can draft into the military. We’re going to have to maintain a full guard at the same time as we have any one out in the field. Just in case. Harmut, I need you to focus on defenses. I know you were just starting to get housing—“

“No need to apologize, your grace,” Harmut said. “We can begin work on whatever is necessary.”

“Maybe some siege weapon emplacements?” I asked. “Not sure if we’re going to be under siege again, but I’d like to make sure we can fire back on any machines they might bring. And maybe see if there’s a way to build entrances from the wall to the inside.”

He nodded, making some notes.

“Lee should be back to work soon,” I said. “At least to the point where he can plan out engineering-type things. How hurt are we without Essie?”

“Essie has been vital,” Harmut said. “Without her, everything will take longer. Much, much longer.”

“How much longer?”

“Days. Weeks. Depends, really. We have quite a lot of blocks to work with, so anything happening outside the walls should move reasonably fast, especially with yer prinkies as bulk labor. But cutting and moving stone inside Mountain Home is going to be slow.”

“Do we know if the goblins took prisoners?” Clarissa asked. “Might we need to mount a rescue mission?”

“Far as I remember Baltu speakin’ about these night goblins,” Harmut said, “they only take sacrificial victims.”

“Timurlan,” I said, “I don’t know what you’ve got up your sleeves that can help us with a war, but—“

“I will make myself available,” the lifeweaver said. “Might be I could help by finding others who have a penchant for magic. Perhaps try teaching some spells.”

“Touch base with the witches then,” I said. “Tarryn?”

“I will move my sleeping quarters nearer the wall,” he said. “And I will be available at all times to the guard.”

“Thank you,” Nathalie said.

“Shall we schedule another meeting?” Clarissa asked.

“Tomorrow morning,” I said. “At first light, Coggeshall goes to war.”

30

For all my tough talk in the conference room, I was embroiled in strife on the inside. It was too easy to give into the violence, because I wanted the violence. Rage simmered inside, begging for release. Flashes of dead kobolds dotted my vision as I walked. Every live kobold I saw made a dead one appear in reflection, and I could feel my heart pounding.

I ran up the stairs to my room, burst in and went directly to the shower. I let the cold water hammer against my head, not caring that I was still dressed.

A minute passed, or maybe two, before I came out to take my clothes off and toss them into the corner.

I needed to get ready for battle, one I knew was coming. So I got on my worst clothes, pulled on a pair of tired boots, tied my knapsack to my side, and headed out.

Inside the smithy, it was loud and brutal. Fires burned in the forges, and hammers slammed against various metals.

Zoey perched on a stool, watching over her apprentices. She yelled here and there, pointing out mistakes. Then she caught sight of me and waved for me to go back to the hall.

I did, and she followed.

“How can I help you, your grace?” she asked.

“I need armor,” I said.

“We’re working on it.”

“I need a full set right now.”

“Didn’t we get you something like that?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to it?”

“Holes.”

“Shit, that’s right. So you need more?”

“I do. And stronger stuff. I’m likely going into a worse fight.”

“The mithril is functional,” she said. “Might not be perfect though, and definitely won’t be pretty.”

“Is there any point to pretty?”

“For armor?”

“Yes.”

“I mean, most people think it looks good.”

“I don’t need to look good, I need to look mean.”

“Well, we can make it mean if you want. But pretty—“

“No pretty armor.”

“Mithril is just naturally pleasing. Most—“

“I don’t want pretty. Can you paint it black?”

“The mithril?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you? It’s one of the most beautiful pure silver colors in—“

“I want it black so I don’t stick out when I’m sneaking through dark tunnels.”

“You think you’re sneaking somewhere in armor?”

“I’m going to fucking try.”

“You’ll fucking fail, your grace. Armor is loud.”

“Make it quiet.”

“Do you think I am some fuckin’ mancer who can wave a wand and throw a silent spell on metal rubbing against metal?”

“Glue some rubber to the back.”

“One, what the fuck is rubber? Two, glue? What glue sticks to mithril?”

“Mithril glue?”

“I mean this respectfully, your grace, but don’t just make up shit that doesn’t exist and offer it as a solution to a problem you’re creating.”

“I’m not creating a problem. I want quiet armor.”

“Then wear leather.”

“I need more protection than leather.”

“Then it’s going to be loud. There’s no other way.”

“What about wrapping the mithril in leather?”

“Makes it too thick and sticky to work as armor.”

“Why?”

“You need the plates to slide across each other so your joints can still fucking work. If it’s too thick, there won’t be enough overlapping plates to move or protect you. Too sticky, they won’t slide. It’s a delicate balance, one that thick leather fucks with rather funda-fucking-mentally, your grace.”

“So no being quiet and wearing heavy armor.”

“No.”

“Unless it’s magical.”

“I suppose there might be a way to do that, but I have zero experience with enchanting, and unless you have someone new joining Coggeshall, no one else here does.”

“Suit me up, then.”

“Suit you up? In what?”

“Whatever plate you have.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re about to go to war, and I need to see if I can rescue someone first.”

“Fuck.”

“Yep.”

“Follow me,” she said.

31

Zoey and her crew spent a few minutes getting armor on and off me, which led to them finding spots where they needed to make some fundamental fixes to the armor. I said I’d wait, but Zoey said I shouldn’t.

Which was fine. I had other places to be, and other people to speak to. Like Alexander Czubakowski.

The Legion commander sat alone at a table in the lower cantina, having a late lunch. I grabbed a heavy sandwich and came and sat next to him.

“Your grace,” he said between bites.

“Captain,” I replied.

“Why do I get the feeling we are about to have an unpleasant conversation?”

“Glad I engender such joy.”

“’Tis a small hold you have. Gossip and chatter take no time to spread to the farthest tunnels.”

“You know about the goblins, then.”

“I do.”

“Is the conversation going to be bad because you think going to war is a bad idea?”

“No,” he replied, “it’s going to be bad because I have to deny you what it is you’re coming to ask me.”

“And what is that?”

“Well, let’s see,” he said, putting a bite of fish back on his plate. “Your people get attacked by goblins, goblins which you have had repeated issues with. You are forced into some sort of retaliation. You just happen to have most of an Imperial legion sitting behind your walls. So naturally, you would think we would grab our spears and shields and march against your enemies. Did I miss anything?”

“No, that was pretty much where I was planning on going with this.”

“Problem is,” he said with a sigh, “that is not something I can do.”

“Mind explaining?”

“I would love nothing more, but it is just going to make you angry.”

“I will do my best to keep my emotions in check.”

“Thank you, your grace. The main issue lies in how the legion is formed, and how it operates. We operate as a military for the Empire, as ordered by the Emperor. Sort of. Because the Emperor cannot exactly order us to do anything. That is reserved for the Thingmen. We take our orders from the Primus Legatus. The Emperor expresses his or her desires for what he or she would like the Legion to do, and then the Primus Legatus orders us, in order to fulfill the desires of the Emperor. But the Primus Legatus cannot issue new orders without the Emperor — unless, of course, they pertain to the defense of the Empire. So until the night goblins attack Coggeshall itself, we cannot assist you.”

“They attacked the northern wall. Doesn’t that count?”

“It would, if you were a normal holding.”

“I thought this was a normal holding.”

“It is a variety of holdings at the same time. Likely because someone thought you, or your father, would want increased autonomy. For whatever reason, your land is designated as a March. Which means you get to have your own army and take land as you decide you are able. But that also means that none of that land is considered part of the Empire until such time as the Emperor deems it so. And because there is no Emperor—“

“It’s not considered the Empire.”

“Exactly. To be entirely fair, I cannot tell you the exact boundary of the Empire as it was understood when the old Emperor passed. But it’s too big a risk to take.”

“What would happen?”

“If we breach our oath, we will be stripped of all the benefits we have gained being in the legion, and we would be thrown into one of the Imperial prisons as oath-breakers. Usually oath-breakers serve a prison sentence equal to their time in the Legion. Unless, of course, the presiding magistrate is feeling particularly assholic, in which case we could be seen as traitors for breaking our oaths, and then we’d get a quick death by beheading. Or, if one of us has enough money, which none of us do, we might be able to just buy our way to merely being exiled.”

“Magical oaths?”

“Yes.”

“How do we find out the actual Imperial boundary?”

“If it were peacetime, you could likely request a visit from an Imperial cartographer.”

“And in war time?”

“You wait for peace.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Bureaucracy in action. Or, you know, bureaucracy inaction. Works both ways. Or fails to work, as the case may be. Regardless, the best I can offer, in terms of assistance, is guarding Coggeshall and MountainHome.”

“What about training?”

“Who would you have me train?”

“New volunteers?”

“That is something I would need to check. I do not believe they cover it in the Imperial Legion regulations, in which case I would be happy to get my sergeants and company working with whomever you would like.”

“Mind checking on that?”

“Not at all. Though would you mind if I finished my lunch first?”

“Yeah, sure. Just a lot going on.”

“First war?”

“Yeah. I mean, is it even a war?”

“If you are debating the definition, you need more to do. There is nothing to be gained by wondering what to name it. Historians will decide that later. For now, focus on winning.”

“I don’t know that I can win with Nathalie.”

“I have some reservations about her. What little information I’ve gathered over the past few days leads me to be pessimistic. She seems a grand fighter, that much I can tell—“

“She’s done very well in tournaments.”

“Incredibly well. But I cannot say that tournament fighting translates into battle. A tournament fighter I could see transitioning well into a mercenary company. Great way to be spotted by a commander. Seems to me that you were spotted in a similar vein. Good merc companies are constantly recruiting. And had Nathalie been recruited and spent some time within such a company, then maybe we’d be having a different conversation now.”

“She’s got too much honor to go the mercenary route.”

“Right, and that’s part of the next issue: Nathalie is a member of the Imperial family, which gave her a very different life than any of us normal folk. She has never had to do anything, save what she wanted. Or focused upon. As a tournament fighter, she never had to go join a mercenary company for coins between tournaments. She could simply go home and train each break. She has no idea how to run a squad, let alone a company, or an army. She is out of her depth in this regard. I know she is trying, I will give her that, but she lacks even the basic concepts of command, outside of being loud and firm. Which, to be fair, is sometimes all you need. But her sense of scheduling is inane, her concepts of weaponry are inadequate, she has little to no idea what different soldiers actually do. Her sense of training focuses almost exclusively on one-on-one combat — at which she excels, but which has very little value on the actual battlefield.”

“Well fuck. You’re basically saying she’s an absolute shit candidate for the job she’s got.”

“That is a more succinct way to express what I’m saying, yes. Now, because I’ve got a Legion to run, and I need to get them doing something with their idle hands before they turn to gambling and whoring, please let me finish this small meal. Good luck, your grace. I promise at the very least, to hold the line for you.”

I gave him a nod of thanks, and stole an apple slice before heading out again.

32

My next stop was Lord Northwoods. His brothers were taking yet another tour of the indoor farms, but Northwoods himself was sitting on a balcony, braving the winter weather and looking over the forest. He had a cup of tea with him, and the steam curled out of the top in a curious way.

“Lord Northwoods,” I bellowed as I walked toward him. I didn’t want to startle him.

He turned his head a little, saw me, and gave a nod. “Your grace.”

“I fear there is something we should talk about,” I said.

“I had a feeling this time would come.”

“You know what I’m going to talk to you about?”

“I fear I do.”

“Ah, so—“

“Before you go any further, let me make sure you realize that he is my son. While I cannot condone what he has done, nor really forgive him, I can neither fully turn my back on him.”

I stopped and tilted my head. “The fuck you say?” I asked.

“Pardon?”

“What’s all this about your son?”

“I presumed you were here because he — or perhaps you were not. What are you here about?”

“What did you think I was here about?”

“Too late to claim ignorance?”

“Way too late.”

He sighed. “It has come to my attention, and I believed had come to yours, that Justin was involved with those assassins over Fiends’ Night. He did not plan the assassination himself, but he was contacted by those who did, and he was tasked with drawing you outside.”

“Lovely,” I said. “Who planned it?”

“He does not know, your grace.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Sadly, I do. My son is...” he trailed off, trying to find the right words. Then he just shook his head. “I feel now as if I hardly know the man who used to be my son. Justin has changed, and I cannot pinpoint the moment where I lost him. He has strong, misplaced beliefs about you and about the Empire. But he is still my son, and I will protect him as best I am able.”

“It’s a bit hard to stand here and accept that,” I said.

He set the mug of tea on the balustrade and turned to face me fully. I saw his hand, trembling, go to his sword, but he did not draw the blade.

“Knock it off,” I said, and I leaned over and rested my hands on the railing. A quick glance around, and I saw that we were alone. Not that it meant no one could hear us, I reminded myself. “I didn’t come out here to fight you, and I’m not going to fight you now.”

I heard him let out a long sigh. Then he put his shaking hands around his cup, and took a deep drink.

“I would have lost quite badly,” he finally said, with something like a smile.

“It doesn’t mean things are okay, though, big guy. I’m pretty angry here, and I know you have to keep your son, but you also need to make sure this sort of shit doesn’t happen again. Clearly sending him away was not the best move.”

“I fear, as well, that the duke might not be the ally I thought he might be.”

“Well, fuck. You think he’s also plotting to kill me?”

“That thought has crossed my mind.”

“Are you part of that plot?”

“No, your grace.”

“Should I believe you?”

“What possible cause would I have to lie to you?”

“To lull me into trusting you and then kill me.”

“That is not what I am doing, your grace.”

“Why is it we can’t just have one fucking thing to deal with at a time? You ever wonder that?”

“All the time, your grace.”

“How are you going to deal with Justin?”

“I have been attempting to find a way prior to mentioning it to you, and yet, such an answer has eluded me.”

“There’s always prison.”

“Your grace—“

“The legion?”

“My son lacks any sort of martial prowess. One of the reasons Duke Ginsburg came home, at least outwardly, was to address those issues with me. My son does not make much of a squire.”

“Is the duke much of a warrior?”

“He certainly believes he is. I doubt his mettle has ever been truly tested. That is one of the joys of life in the south of the Empire. Violence is rather rare there. Monsters are fewer, and even when they do stick their heads out, they seem less monstrous. Weaker.”

“Can you keep your son under control?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“I swear it, your grace. And,” he paused and licked his lips a little. I could almost feel his nervous energy radiating out from him, “I would be willing to swear fealty to you as my duke if it would make your belief in me stronger.”

I took a big breath and let it out slowly, watching the vapor come out of my mouth. I wanted to say yes. I thought that it would make a good match. He was a smart guy, I knew that much, and I knew he had the sort of familial history that would cement Coggeshall as an actual part of the Empire. I knew the land was already part of the Empire, at least some of it, but Coggeshall as a house still felt nebulous. There was, of course, also the problem that Coggeshall as a house consisted, at present of one single person.

“That is something I will consider,” I said carefully.

“Thank you, your grace,” he said, once again sounding like he had just gone through something very stressful and did not get the worst possible outcome. “Now, what were you actually coming to speak to me about?”

I shook my head, breaking the mild reverie.

“Yes,” I said. “There are, um, goblins. Night goblins, to be precise, and it would seem it is time to go to war with them. They have forced my hand. So, probably best if you and yours bounced back to the other side of the mountain, so you don’t get stuck with the bullshit here.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding. “I can certainly offer a measure of support — more if you accept me as your sworn lord.”

“Yeah, we’ll get to that.”

“We will prepare tonight, and move out in the morning. Would you, um, shall I—“

“Spit it out.”

“Eliza, should she remain?”

I blinked a few times, and then nodded. I hadn’t expected that question, though I don’t know why not. She was part of the Northwoods family, but I’d grown so used to her being part of Coggeshall.

“It is her decision,” I finally said. “I’d prefer if she stayed, but I’m not the type to order that. Especially given, you know, war.”

“I will ask her, your grace.”

“Tell you what,” I said, putting a hand out to block him, “I’ll ask.”

He paused and narrowed his eyes, but then nodded.

“Of course,” he said.

In that moment, I had to wonder if everything he’d just said and did had been play-acting. What was it he actually felt? Was his son actually involved? Was this a ruse to get me to accept him as a sworn lord? What would that do? How would that change our dynamic? Was any of the shit he’d said been true?

I gritted my teeth, but forced a smile, and moved quickly back inside, really struggling to keep from punching something.

33

I sent Hugo to find Eliza while I had a quick hirð meeting.

“You’re doing what now?” Ragnar asked.

“I’m going to hit the goblins when and where they aren’t expecting it,” I replied. “So as soon as my armor is ready, I’m going into the tunnel to kill goblins for as long as I can. Maybe kill all of them. Hopefully while they’re all looking the other way.”

“And you plan to do this by yourself?” Skeld asked.

“Do you know anyone else who could possibly come out of there alive?”

“I don’t know anyone else dumb enough to go in there in the first fucking place,” Ragnar said.

“Sure you do.”

“No one is that dumb, Montana,” Bear said, sounding very much like she was really fucking disappointed in me. “Somehow, though, you seem to have found your way through the lowest of lows. A whole new level of stupid.”

“How is this stupid?” I asked.

“Do you really need someone to explain why attacking an entire cave full of night goblins is a bad idea?” Skeld said, shaking his head.

“I have the skill set to survive something like that,” I countered. “And if I can’t, I’ll just respawn.”

“All the way across the map.”

“I’m willing to bet there’s some way to reset my spawn point. I’ll do that before I go, and if I happen to perish, all I’ve lost is a suit of armor.”

“A suit of mithril armor.”

“First of all, it’s not all mithril. Second of all, even if it’s lost, does it give anything to the goblins?”

“A suit of armor,” Ragnar said.

“A suit of armor made to fit me. What goblin is it going to fit?”

“The nightmare goblin,” Skeld said.

“If there’s a goblin the size of me, we’ll deal with it when it comes.”

“The ‘when’ in that statement is what bothers me.”

“Doesn’t the ‘if’ cancel it out?”

“Not enough,” Ragnar butted in.

“I think it’s a solid plan,” I said. “Maybe not the best plan, but at least it’s doing something. Buying time while Nathalie gets our military ready. And striking them in their home will hurt psychologically. They won’t feel safe.”

“If they kill you, they’ll feel real fucking safe.”

“Until I show up again, and then they’ll know I’m unkillable.”

“First good point the duke’s made,” Tarryn said. “If I killed the duke, and he showed back up the next day? I’d be really fucking worried.”

“See,” I said. “Win, win.”

“Except for that whole you dying thing,” Bear said.

“Slim chance of that happening, and it still works out for us.”

“What if you get a small group— “Ragnar started, but I shook my head.

“No,” I said. “It’s too dangerous for anyone else to go.”

“If I remember correctly,” Skeld said, “the last time you went up against the goblins, you barely made it out alive. You pretty much willed your way back, and had to be healed while they peeled the armor off of you.”

“I’m going in with better armor, and I’m going in prepared. I won’t get ambushed — I’ll be doing the ambushing.”

“It’s not an ambush if you’re going into their home and killing them that way,” Ragnar snapped.

“It’s kind of ambush-y.”

“It’s an invasion.”

“I think it’d be a raid,” Skeld said.

“Can we do the semantic argument later?” Bear asked. “No one but you three idiots are going to care about what the fuck to call this fiasco.”

“We can call it a fiasco,” I said.

“Stop joking, your grace. There are some serious things to think about here.”

“No. It’s simple. And that’s why it will work. I go in, I kill lots of things. Hopefully I find some way to win the war. I come back. Done.”

“That’s not how it’s going to work, and you know it.”

“That’s the plan. What happens to the plan after it becomes enacted is impossible to say.”

“You’re being stupid.”

“I’m being proactive.”

“Isn’t that being kind of reactive?” Ragnar said. “The goblins were proactive when they raided NorthFort, and now you’re reacting—“

Skeld shoved Ragnar out of the chair, and Ragnar disappeared below the table. We heard a soft thump when he hit the floor.

I sighed and looked at my gathered friends.

“If you’ve got a better idea,” I said slowly, firmly, “I’m listening.”

Plenty of looks were exchanged between the various species. The human looked to the carcajou, who looked to the brownie, who looked to the lutra. And then all eyes went back to me.

“Thing is,” I said, “the more room we give them, the more they’re going to take. It’s important to hit them now, to make sure they know they are never safe.”

I got a few nods from around the group. I had the distinct feeling they weren’t agreeing so much as getting me to stop talking.

“I need to go talk to Lee — I’ve got things to do,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’ll be back in the morning. I promise.”

34

Our hospital was quiet and calm. Lee was awake and eating something that looked like ice cream.

He gave me a wan smile and a nod when I entered.

“Is that ice cream?” I asked.

“Vanilla,” he replied. “Bit soft, but I’m not complaining.”

“Where did you get ice cream?”

“I explained the concept to Labrax, and he figured it out.”

“Who’s Labrax?”

“Labrax Grattus? Head of the kitchen?”

“I’m terrible with names.”

Lee just shook his head while he took another bite.

I peeked around to see if anyone was paying attention to us. Most of the beds were filled with the injured kobolds, and they all seemed asleep.

“I need to ask you a strange question,” I said. “Something about, uh, our shared abilities.”

“Ask away,” Lee said. “You know I’ll answer what I can.”

“I seem to remember you saying something about being able to set a new spawn point,” I whispered.

“I can’t recall talking about that with you.”

“Okay, but can you do that?”

“Talk with you?”

“Set a new spawn point.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. Am I to guess you’ve never reset yours?”

“Nope.”

“I’ll ask my other questions later,” he said. “You seem to be in a hurry.”

“Bit of a hurry, yes.”

“It requires a fair amount of your own blood, though I doubt it is too much a bother for you. You need to make a circle of your blood in the spot you would like to become your new spawn point. Then, place a handful of your blood in the middle, let it spread out. Write your name in blood around the bit in the center of the circle, and write your patron’s name on the outside.”

“That actually works?”

“That’s what I was instructed to do, though considering I haven’t died since I changed things, I can’t say what works and what doesn’t.”

“I don’t suppose Darius would know either, would he?”

“He was told the same thing by his patron.”

“Sometimes I think I’ve got a shitty patron.”

“You might not want to say that too loud. Should I be worried why you’re asking me this?” Lee asked.

“Do you worry about me in general?” I asked back.

“Yes,” he said quickly. “Of course. You’re a dear friend, maybe even more. You’re the closest thing I have to family in this god-forsaken world. You and Darius. If either one of you were to... to not come back somehow, I would be very hard-pressed to continue this whole debacle I’ve embroiled myself within.”

“Nah,” I said, feeling just a twinge of guilt lying to the elf, “just didn’t want to get stuck on the other side of the world if I fall off the side of the mountain, you know? Or if Fritz gets a little too happy with his aerial maneuvers.”

“He is starting to push the limits of his roc form, isn’t he?”

“He’s been trying to get a loop. Fool’s going to wind up crashing into a glacier and breaking a fucking wing.”

Lee smiled and shook his head. “Pretty sure all new pilots think of doing that. He’ll calm down after a crash or two.”

“You ever crashed?”

“More than I’ll care to admit.”

“One of these days,” I said while getting to my feet, “I want those stories.”

“Yes, your grace.”

I just shook my head as I left.

35

Hugo escorted Eliza Northwoods to me somewhere before dinner, while I was getting supplies ready. It might also have appeared as if I were raiding the kitchen, because I didn’t want to wait for dinner. Believe what you want.

I had a few chunks of chocolate in one hand, a hunk of bread in the other, and maybe a rather impressive piece of beef jerky in my mouth. At least, it had the word beef on its label, and I very much wanted to believe that.

“Lady Northwoods, as requested, your grace,” Hugo said quickly. He bowed and retreated from the kitchens.

I mumbled something, then remembered I had a mouthful. I shoved the dried meat into my knapsack, followed quickly by the chocolate and bread. I’d never seen food be ill-effected by the magic knapsack before — should be fine.

“Your grace,” Eliza said with a curtsy. “To what do I owe the honor of a meeting in the kitchen?”

“I was hungry.”

“And you wanted me? A lady could only be so lucky.”

“I was not, it wasn’t, no. That’s not why I asked you to meet me. I didn’t know it was going to be here.”

“What is it, your grace? If I could, I would like to help my father pack.”

“I wanted to say that I, uh, would not mind if you decided to stay here with us.”

“You would not mind?”

“That is, I mean,” I started, then stammered to a stop. “Not what I meant to say.”

“Perhaps you would like to try again?”

“I was just, um, if you wanted to stay—“

“What is it you want, Duke Coggeshall?”

“I...”

Jeez, what did I want? I knew what I thought Eliza and her father wanted, at least insofar as Eliza went. She was here to get me to marry her and make the Northwoods line a duchal one. But if that was what Eliza wanted, was that bad? Did I want to marry her? Not yet. Didn’t mean never. She was beautiful, smart, sassy, all the things I find, well, I was going to say attractive, but she was more than that. She was awesome. I liked her. Not liked her, liked her, but you know what the fuck I mean even if I am acting more like a junior high school reject than an imperial duke and one of the most powerful men of the realm.

“I would like it if you would stay, Lady Northwoods,” I finally blurted out. “You have become a very important part of Coggeshall, and I find your presence here not just necessary but, well, delunderful.”

“Delunderful, your grace?”

“I meant to say delightful, but somehow also tried to say wonderful.”

“You feel I am wonderful?” she said with a sassy sort of smile. But her true emotions betrayed her by painting blush all over her cheeks.

“Don’t get cocky. Do you want to stay?”

“I would. Yes.”

“Great. Your dad is trying to leave in the morning. If you want to help him pack, that’s probably for the best. Then, well, tomorrow we start a war.”

“Yes, your grace,” she said with a curtsy. “I will do what I can to prepare.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Hopefully I will be delunderful in the future.”

She gave me a flirty smile and darted off, totally missing my picture perfect eye-roll.

36

“Your grace, I must protest your plan.”

Clarissa was not happy. Her face was a mask of anger, and her tone made it clear she was not to be fucked with. Which meant it was very hard for me not to fuck with her.

And yet, at the same time, I was starting to feel the stress of impending violence. I always preferred an impromptu fight. Having to plan the fights or shootings always meant long stretches of waiting for violence. Which was just a breeding ground of doubt and anxiety, where I couldn’t help but see every wrong way the upcoming events could go.

Despite what I’d spouted off to my hirð, I was not exactly confident in my plan. I didn’t think it was the right idea so much as I just thought it was the best course of action, all things considered. We had to strike the goblins hard in order to make sure they felt fear.

“I appreciate what you’re saying,” I said, “but I outrank you here.”

“I need you to understand that you are being stupid,” Clarissa replied.

“Can you think of a better idea? Any other group going into the goblins’ home is going to get massacred.”

“Sacrificing yourself is hardly a plan. You are the last in the Coggeshall line. Should you die in this foolhardy action, Coggeshall dies with you. This holding will become a footnote in some map, and all these people who have followed you will curse your name for the remains of their history. Most have given up everything they had to be here. They have nowhere to go, and no savings to give them the chance at a new life somewhere.”

“If I die, then open up the treasury. Let people take what they will.”

“That changes nothing. I’ve seen the treasury. There’s a fortune in treasure and a piddling amount of usable currency.”

“I shall have to make a complaint to the treasurer.”

“I am suddenly filled with confidence.”

“Look, Clarissa, I am not a normal duke. I have a special set of skills that make me uniquely suited to going into a place in search of wanton slaughter and coming out alive. If you could look at my abilities, you’d see that.”

She stared at me, and then shook her head.

“I don’t believe you,” she finally said. “I have heard some stories, but they all sounded like hyperbole. Exaggeration.”

“I know what hyperbole means.”

“That is not why I said exaggeration. I was being emphatic. I thought the stories about you were just that: stories. That you were not the man people made you out to be. And yet, here I am, in front of you, and I am forced to discover the truth of the matter. You are, I don’t even know what you are. Confusing. Concerning. You are—“

“Dashing and incredibly handsome?”

“Frustrating and egotistical.”

“That is also accurate.”

“Is there anything I can say that will at least get you to reconsider this stupid plan of yours?”

“Nothing comes to mind. But then, if I could think of something, I’d probably have stopped this on my own.”

“It is a bad idea, your grace. I am going to make a note of my attempts to convince you to follow another course of action, and if you return—“

“You’re going to literally eat your words with a hollandaise sauce and a dash of paprika?”

“Hollandaise?” she asked, looking confused, but as soon as I opened my mouth to clarify, she continued, “I suppose, if it makes you feel vindicated, I will eat the paper I write on, though I cannot, for any reason, see how that makes anything better.”

“We need to work on jokes.”

“There are a multitude of things we need to work on before we get to fixing your deleterious sense of humor.”

“My sense of humor is great.”

“With all due respect, your grace, your jokes are nearly as bad as your idea to sacrifice yourself to the goblins.”

“Yeah, well, noted,” I snapped, really wished I’d had a moment to prepare a better retort. “Write whatever you like.”

37

I’d run out of people to speak to, and out of errands to run. It was time.

Well, sort of. It wasn’t time to go; it was time to get armored up by Zoey and her crew.

Zoey seemed determined to make an already long and involved process even more tedious, layering as much armor onto me as my frame would support.

First came silk trousers and a silk shirt. Then a padded gambeson. Over that went the harness. Then all the heavy stuff, the full plate. Most of which was mithril, some of which was steel. All of it had been painted black. After a goodly amount of time as a mannequin, my entire body was encased in metal, including a great helm with a visor.

My field of view was less than great with the visor down — Zoey had punched a ton of small holes all across the visor, so it was a bit like looking through a really crappy screened window. I had more the sensation of what was outside my helm than I did actual clear vision.

I engaged my tremorsense, and noticed two things. First, for whatever reason, I had much better reception. I could sense way more vibrations, and had a much better idea of where and what everything was. Second, something happened, kind of like an overlay of sorts. The mix of the vibrations and the poor vision created something greater than it should have. Like a one-plus-one-equals-three situation.

“Move,” Zoey said.

“Where?” I asked.

“Dance about, you fool,” she snapped, wiping sweat from her brow.

I did a little jig.

“Anything pinch?” she asked.

“Not really,” I said.

“Where?”

“It’s fine.”

“It needs to be perfect, your grace. Tell me where it isn’t.”

“The shoulders feel tight,” I said.

Immediately, her crew undid straps and checked on things. Zoey moved the metal joints, grabbed a hammer, and pounded on the armor a little.

Then, everything went back on.

“Again,” Zoey said.

I danced some more, this time trying hard to pay attention to how I was moving. Eyes closed, I went through a few movements as if I held a sword in my hand.

“My right wrist isn’t turning over,” I started, and before I finished speaking, someone was pulling my gauntlet off.

“Anything else?” Zoey asked.

We continued like that for a solid hour, until the armor felt like another layer of skin. I was amazed how well I could move in it — the metal suit didn’t inhibit me at all. I could tell there was some extra weight, but it really felt like nothing. By the end, I was doing cartwheels across the floor, which created a mild cacophony, but the noise was really the only issue.

“I did have something of an idea about the noise,” Zoey said.

“I’m all ears,” I replied.

“Ha,” came her reply, a complete monotone.

She walked out of the back with a large bundle of leather, something she unfolded into a garment that looked marginally like a poncho, except with a bit more cut elements, and several thick bits of leather cordage hanging off. She worked my head through the hole, and then her minions tied the leather laces together. I looked like I was wearing leather coveralls.

“Can you still move?” she asked.

I tested out the limits of my mobility, and didn’t notice anything too offensive.

“Feels decent,” I said.

“And quiet,” Zoey said.

“I wouldn’t exactly say I’m quiet.”

The thick leather certainly muffled the metal on metal noise of the armor, but I wouldn’t call myself overly sneaky.

“Best I could do,” she said.

“Better’n’a poke in the eye,” I said. “Something my scout leader used to say about damn near everything.”

Zoey slapped me hard on the pauldron.

“Ready?” she asked.

I flipped down the visor and nodded.

“Time to kick some ass or chew bubblegum,” I said. “Too bad I’m—”

“What’s bubblegum?” Zoey asked.

I sighed. “Never mind. I’m just going to go kill a bunch of goblins.”

Zoey closed her eyes and set her hand on my armor: “Picus’ blessings on you.”

The rest of the crew did the same, and I swear I felt a soft warmth about me.

“Thank you all for your hard work,” I said. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

38

I moved quickly from the smithy until I got down to the tunnel. Once there, I forced the guard to move aside and open the secret door. Unlike the last time I’d done this maneuver, this time I got no complaint. The guard just opened the door.

I walked into the tunnel and immediately confronted my entire hirð standing there in their armor, holding their weapons.

“The fuck is this?” I asked.

“We’re going with you,” Bear said, standing tall and proud. At least, as tall as a brownie could get.

“No, you aren’t,” I said. “Get back inside.”

“Only if you do,” Ragnar said.

“You’re all going to die if you come with me.”

Skeld nodded grimly. “So be it.”

“Actually,” Tarryn said, taking a step toward the door. “I can—“

Skeld grabbed Tarryn and pulled him back in line.

“We’re in this together,” Ragnar said. “Because we have no choice. You’re being an idiot and we’re tired of it. You want to go into the goblin lair and be killed, we’re going with you.”

“You are the ones being idiots,” I said. “This will work. I can go in there, slaughter some goblins, and come right back out. No problem.”

“All due respect, your grace,” Skeld said, “you have no idea what is inside there. We have zero clue what they are capable of. The only thing we really know is that they’ve been coming up with ways to hurt you. And us.”

“You remember what made this fucking tunnel?” Ragnar asked. “You want to go up against a whole ton of these things?”

“I doubt there’s more of those worms—” I started, but Ragnar cut me off.

“You don’t know that. That’s the problem. You think, you doubt, you’re pretty sure, but you don’t know.”

“Tell you what,” a new voice said from behind, “how about I go as well.”

I turned around to see Lee stepping through the door into the tunnel.

“Okay, hold the fucking horse,” I said. “Why are you out of the hospital?”

“You seem determined to do something ludicrous,” Lee said, moving slowly, his arm still in a sling, “and I felt like we have, maybe, been a bit too lax in your education. So since I can’t physically stop you, I’ll just go with you.”

“You can barely walk!”

“And yet, here I am.”

“Come on, man.”

“I’m coming.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, you are being ridiculous, Montana, duke of Coggeshall.”

“What’s the worst that’s going to happen out there, Lee? I die and I respawn. I lose some armor.”

“Did you already reset your respawn point?”

“Of course I did,” I blurted out. But when I actually bothered to think about things, I realized I did no such thing. Oops.

My initial impulse was to just let my lie stand, even though it was a lie that would really only hurt me if I failed. I wasn’t planning on failing. But maybe it was time to actually make some changes beyond reminding myself I was a good person. Maybe I needed to grow beyond the most basic goodness.

“Fuck it. I forgot.”

“There you go,” Lee said, “perfect reason to hold off.”

“We have to do something,” I snapped in reply.

“We are doing something,” Lee said. “I can tell you why you’re feeling this way.”

“You know what I’m feeling?”

“It’s not a hard nut to crack, your grace. You want immediate action, to hit back and make a big splash.”

“I wouldn’t mind something like that.”

“We’re not back where we’re from, Montana. There are no cruise missiles to launch at the press of a button. And even if we did have one, where would you send it? Do you know where the goblin lair actually is? Do you know how to hit them in a way that would actually hurt them? You have no intelligence on the situation. You have nothing to guide a missile, let alone yourself. What do you know about this tunnel even? Do you actually know that it leads to the goblin lair? Is it a city? Are there buildings? Are there just goblins hanging around in there? Can you answer a single one of these questions?”

“You’re really making it seem important that I go in there and peek around.”

“You’re not going to peek like that,” Ragnar said. “You’re loud as fuck right now.”

“I’m not that loud,” I said.

“And you’ve got bad vision, bad hearing.”

“I have great hearing, and—“

“The fuck you do,” Tarryn said. “I have worn many a helm, and they all reduce hearing a terrifying amount. If you are going scouting, you need to go as a scout.”

“You know,” I said, “you guys are all really annoying.”

“Imagine what it’s like for us,” Bear said. “Dealing with you is a pain in the ass like I never imagined.”

“Fine. I won’t go,” I said. “Is that what you all want to hear?”

“Among other things, yes,” Lee said.

“What else do you want to hear?”

“The sound of my wife’s laughter, but I’ll settle for that little realization of yours. Now, someone help get me back to bed — my arm hurts.”

39

While I didn’t really need the help, I made Tarryn come with me to get Lee back to the infirmary, whereupon we all got an impressive tongue lashing from the head healer. Lee just gave her a wink and a smile. He told her he had to get a little stretch in his legs after being in bed so long and promised that the duke would make sure he didn’t leave his bed again.

While Lee had the healer busy, Tarryn and I walked quickly from the infirmary. Once in the main lobby of MountainHome, Tarryn turned to head up the stairs, but I grabbed him before he could slink away.

“We’re not done yet,” I said.

“Is there someone else you want to bring here?” Tarryn asked, looking around.

“I had a little time to think, you know, while we were moseying ourselves back here.”

“Is now the time to mention the bad feeling starting to flow over me?”

“You can mention it all you want. But Lee pointed out a few key things—“

“And the rest of us—”

“You tried to walk away in the middle of it.”

“Not my bravest moment, but I am not a fan of enclosed spaces.”

“Fair, and yes, everyone made good points. I realize I was acting stupid. Now, however, I have a better idea, one that I need your help with.”

“I’m not going back in the tunnel.”

“We’re going on an Air Fritz flight.”

“Have I told you I don’t like heights?”

“Yes, but I choose to ignore that. Let’s go.”

“Your grace—” came the quick complaint, but I had his sleeve and I wasn’t letting go.

Outside in the frosty night air, snow swirled down around us.

Tarryn shivered slightly.

“You going to be okay in this weather?” I asked.

“No,” Tarryn snapped. “Can I go back inside?”

I pulled off the heavy leather poncho thing and tied it onto Tarryn.

“FRITZ!” I bellowed.

“This doesn’t exactly help,” Tarryn said, looking a bit like a child playing dress-up.

“Give it a minute,” I said, keeping my eyes on the skies.

“I’m going to freeze to death.”

“You’ve got magic to keep you warm. That, plus your burning hatred for what I’m putting you through.”

“The fires of my frustration do little to warm my hands.”

“Stick’em in your armpits.”

“I, what?”

Thankfully, Fritz’s arrival forestalled Tarryn’s continued complaining. A few minutes to get the harness on, a few more to force Tarryn into place, and then we were ready to go.

“We’re going to attack the night goblins,” I told Fritz.

He nodded.

“You have an idea where they are?”

He nodded again.

“Just in case it’s not clear, they’re in that big cave on the western side where the river comes out. When we get there, Tarryn is going to drop some intense magic,” I said. “I’m only along to keep him safe. Don’t want you to be surprised if he throws fireballs from your back.”

Redy to go, Fritz scratched into the snow.

I hauled myself up next to Tarryn, and gave him a pat on the leg.

“Ready?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“Let’s go!”

Fritz launched us up into the sky.

40

Flying is fun. I always love it. Even if it’s cold, or the weather is shitty, or it’s night out, there’s just a joy and magic that comes from taking flight. That the world is beneath you, in both a literal and figurative sense. There’s an undeniable freedom that flight brings, and I felt, sometimes, that having Fritz around was a bit of a cheat code for life in Vuldranni. One I was willing to fight to keep.

On that night, even though the snow was heavy, both in volume and mass, I smiled as the flakes stung my face.

We didn’t go as high as the last flight. Instead, we kept right below the clouds, just a few hundred feet off the ground, where we could still see the landscape. Or at least Fritz could easily see the landscape. For me to see anything below the giant bird, I had to really lean out to the side.

We zipped across the lake, which was starting to get a decent layer of ice across the top, and also a good dusting of snow. I made a mental note to mark the shore so people didn’t go wandering out onto the ice thinking they were on solid ground.

Tarryn tugged at my armor.

“What’s the plan here?” he shouted against the wind.

“Get a big spell ready,” I replied.

“For what?”

“Blowing the shit out of goblins. Like a fireball.”

“Like a fireball? Or an actual fireball?”

“What do you think is an adequate response to the goblins killing a hundred plus of our citizens?”

“We’re doing this instead of you crawling through the tunnels to enact a slaughter?”

“Yes.”

“And you want me to—“

“Kill a bunch of goblins, yes. The messier the better.”

“You know, giving me a little time to prepare—“

“Do your best, Tarryn.”

“Yes, your grace,” he said firmly. Then he started muttering to himself.

We passed over the spot I’d named Skeld Rock, the strange formation of bizarre stone and metal that was pretty much in the perfect center of the valley, and Fritz hung a left.

“Coming up on where we think the night goblins live,” I said. “You ready?”

“Not exactly,” Tarryn replied, his lips a shade of blue.

I leaned out again, trying to get a good look at the landscape, see if there were any goblins about. I could see a few things moving, small creatures here and there in the woods, but my eyesight wasn’t good enough to make them out. They could just as easily be deer or something else completely innocuous.

Tarryn leaned out and peered into the darkness below. He did a little thing with his hands, and his eyes began to glow.

“Guide Fritz that way,” Tarryn said, pointing to the right. “I want to make sure not to clip his wings.”

I relayed the message as best I could to Fritz. The great beast seemed to get the general idea, altering his course a little.

To the front left was the dark gaping maw that signaled the night goblin’s lair. The waterfall was still active — it hadn’t frozen over.

Tarryn managed to get to his feet, but stumbled a little.

I grabbed him.

“Thanks,” he shouted. “I needed to stand, so I’m not attached.”

“You need me to keep holding you?” I asked.

“Yes!”

I sighed, but held on.

Tarryn shook his hands out. I could feel that he placed his full trust in me. Power practically vibrated him for a second, and then I swear I could feel the energy whoosh out of him into the sky.

He collapsed against me.

“What did you do?” I asked.

He lifted his arm up to the sky and to the right. I looked where he pointed and saw a bright light, like a star. But it was growing, ever so slightly. And then it grew faster and faster, getting brighter and brighter.

Fritz squawked, pulling his wings tight to his body. We plummeted down.

The magical star blew across us, so close I swore my armor was glowing.

The star disappeared into the Night Goblin cave, lighting it up as it shot inside and exploded.

Light and energy shot out of the cave, sending bright white flames licking out along the mountainside. It made the waterfall seem like it was strobe-lit, before steam came off the river surface in waves.

There was an eerie sort of silence.

“Home, Fritz,” I called out.

He snapped his wings out, catching the air. We were homeward bound.

41

It felt great to have done something, even if we had no real sense of what we’d actually done.

The efforts of Tarryn’s spell exhausted him, and he was very clearly trying not to vomit. But we were both elated. Like we’d done something fantastic, and scored a victory over our most hated of foes, the stupid fucking night goblins.

“Any idea what kind of damage that did?” I asked.

“Not really,” he replied. “I don’t know what I hit. I just know I hit something in there. Had to have vaporized some of those little bastards.”

“That’s something,” I said.

Our good feelings were incredibly short-lived.

42

As we happily flapped along, all of a sudden, I became aware of other beings in the sky. They looked like big bats. Really large fuck-off bats, carrying fucking night goblins.

They headed straight toward us, like they’d come from the southern portion of the valley. Like they’d come from Coggeshall.

“Can you strap yourself in?” I asked Tarryn. I’d been keeping one arm around him so he didn’t fall.

“I can try,” he called out.

I let go, undid my own connection to Fritz’s harness, and got to my feet. With one hand, I held onto a leather strap that hung from Fritz’s harness, and with the other, I pulled out a spear.

The bats seemed surprised so see us. Or, you know, echo-locate us. Whatever way you want to define ‘see,’ we surprised them. The goblins, similarly, seemed surprised. There were plenty of screeches and shouts, most of which were really just variations on the theme of ‘attack’ or ‘kill.’

I heard ‘bloodletter’ a few times. I wondered if that was aimed at me, Tarryn, or Fritz. The goblins were not at all clear. And the bats didn’t talk. Not that there was anything unusual about that, bats not talking. But in this world, who knew?

I shoved my hand in the bag and got a rope to tie around the spear.

“Game on!” I shouted, and threw the spear, now more like a harpoon, at the largest bat.

For a moment I doubted it would hit. My target somehow saw the spear and banked hard to avoid it. But that just meant the next bat in line got a spear in the face.

I yanked the rope hard, pulling the bat, and goblin rider, toward me.

The goblin was fearless and snarling. As its bat went into spasms, the goblin launched itself through the open air, hands extended and a dagger in its mouth.

I had just found air-pirate goblins.

I was still pulling the spear back in when the goblin hit me. But it felt a bit like a hyperactive three-year-old trying to play football with the big kids. More a soft smack than anything else.

I grabbed the goblin with one hand.

He stabbed at my arm, but the little dagger just slid down my armor.

The goblin’s eyes went wide.

I smiled and threw him over my shoulder. The little pale-skinned goblinoid cartwheeled through the night into the darkness below.

Fritz banked hard, practically ninety degrees, in order to avoid a sudden flame. Then he shrieked, and I felt him reach out with his talons and grab something.

The bats had surrounded us, some having circled back.

I gave up on the roped spear and just started pulling spears out and throwing them at any targets I saw.

It was a rather target-rich environment, and so I made some good hits.

Most often the bats. Whenever I killed one, I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt. I mean, what did the poor bat do?

A bat death usually meant the goblin riders would attempt some daring attack on either Fritz or me, which were rarely as successful as the first.

Most of the time, all that happened was a goblin snarling at me as it flew through the air until such time as it realized it was not going to land on the back of the roc. Their barbaric roar always changed to a surprised yelp as the goblins went on one last sky-dive.

There was one real problem, though: at least one of the bat pilots had magical chops, because there were spells coming hot and heavy our way. And while Fritz could handle dodging a fair number of the fireballs, flame gouts, and lightning bolts, it always seemed to put him right in the firing lane for arrows and other nasty things from the goblins.

At first I didn’t think the goblins would bother Fritz, but when one bounced off my armor, the bolt left a thick, viscous trail down my vambrace. It was only a guess, but my bet was on it being poison.

I threw spears faster, harder, trying to keep the mounted archers off their targets, and did my best to see where the spells were coming from. But it seemed like the goblins were keeping the spell casters on the other side of Fritz so I couldn’t target them.

I knelt down next to Tarryn, tied a rope around the harness, and then gave Tarryn a squeeze.

He didn’t respond.

I shook him a little harder, and I saw that his back held a number of arrows and bolts.

“Barrel roll!” I shouted.

Fritz began the twist, and I leapt off.

The rope went taut, and I swung around at an insane speed, most of the world little more than a blur.

With a sword extended outward, I cut through two bats, and their riders, in a grotesque aerial eruption of gore.

I saw a small explosion of power, so I’d probably tagged at least one of the spell slingers mid-cast.

Fritz finished his barrel roll. But because of physics, I kept going, zooming at the end of my rope and realizing I was about to become a liability. If I didn’t do something fast, I was going to wind around Fritz’s wing.

I cut the line and went soaring into the night.

Fritz made a loud squawk and tried to fly over to me, but big as he was, he wasn’t exactly super agile.

I grabbed for a nearby bat, my gauntlet sliding off the taut wing skin before managing to snatch hold of a leg.

This didn’t really save me, but it did slow me down. The bat wasn’t exactly strong enough to keep us all in flight, but it certainly tried.

The goblin rider hit at me with his sword, but I snatched the sword out of his stupid hand. I grabbed the blade and then smacked the goblin in the face with the hilt. The goblin bent over his bat saddle, but his harness held. I cut through the harness, and the goblin and saddle fell.

Still struggling, the bat started to gain a little altitude.

I could feel power being drawn in somewhere close to me. Not the goblin or bat I was currently attached to, but nearish.

Looking around, I saw the telltale colorful runes of a spell coming together, swarming around a chanting goblin with a bone mask over its face.

I threw the sword.

It cracked right through the mask and thunked deep into the goblin mage’s skull. I saw another brief flash of light as the goblin got its spell off in the nick of time.

The spell zipped right past my head, slamming into my bat buddy and crisping him to ash.

Tough to have good aim while your head’s being cut in half.

I hung in the air for a coyote-like moment before gravity took hold and sucked me down.

Fritz was still ripping the other bats to shreds. Without the spell attacks, he had no trouble anymore.

I watched him deal death for a second before continuing to barrel toward the ground.

43

I smashed right through the ice, disappearing into the water underneath. The intense cold caught me by surprise, my lungs feeling like an iron cage was being compressed around them.

Of course, being that I was mostly muscle, basically no fat, and covered in metal, I sunk like a fucking rock. Right down to the murky bottom.

My feet hit the mud, swirling dirt and grossness all around me.

It was actually kind of nice being down at the bottom of the lake — there was a genuine sense of calm down there. Maybe the best way to get home was just to hike across the bottom of the lake. I had a ring of water-breathing in my pouch — I could just have a pleasant stroll and break the ice by the shore. It was dark, sure, but I could sort of see. And I could, similarly, sort of get tremorsense working. It was a little odd being able to feel tremors everywhere around me, as things swam around. The only issue was how many things were suddenly stirring and moving in my general direction. Things were pushing off prone states at the bottom to something akin to standing, then shuffling over my way.

A quick glance about, and I could see skulls bobbing through the water towards me, nearly all of which were attached to skeletons.

Maybe they were friendly, just coming over to give me directions, or say hello. But given the palpable sense of evil emanating from them, to the point where I started to feel uncomfortable just being near them, I didn’t really think they were planning on being nice.

I pushed as hard as I could off the bottom, shooting through the water toward the hole in the ice I could see above.

Swimming in armor is no fun. Armor is very much easy to move in, and yet terrible for swimming. With enough will, I managed to muscle myself through the water until I could grab the edges of the ice-hole and pull myself through onto the surface.

Talons wrapped around me as soon as I was out, and then I was flying.

It was sort of fun flying that way, except for how all the water on and around me started freezing in the air.

Luckily, cold makes my mind focus. Those bats were new. We hadn’t known goblins could ride bats, and that made it clear how screwed we were.

Right now, we had a single air unit. He was devastating and powerful, but he certainly didn’t have the ability to maintain air superiority in the long term. And I was willing to bet the bat-flyers were why we hadn’t had any luck with scouting. If they could keep bats flying around most of the time, they’d be able to warn their land-based scouts when we were on the move. Plus, they could keep up with Fritz whenever he flew someone around.

But now that we knew this, we’d probably be able to find a way around it. So that made me feel good. A bit smart. Like I was getting strategy and tactics.

And, once again, my good feelings were destroyed in a heartbeat as we got home. I saw smoke curling into the sky, heard lots of shouting, and saw people moving around everywhere within the Coggeshall walls.

44

When Fritz dropped me, I was already running. The ice layer over my armor shattered as I sprinted toward the walls. The main gate was on fire, several of the towers had significant amounts of damage, and chunks were missing from the walls. Chunks which were, by and large, now sitting on the grass.

My people mostly acted orderly, running to the walls to help retrieve the wounded, or to the gate to put out the fire. I couldn’t quite make out what was going on with the tunnel, but I realized it would be better for me to wait and get Tarryn from Fritz.

Fritz landed in front of me with an uncharacteristic thump, basically slamming himself to the ground and sinking to his belly until he was full-on laying down.

I clambered up along his harness and pulled off Tarryn.

There wasn’t much of a pulse to the man, but there was a pulse. I got him over my shoulder, leaving the bolts in place, and dropped off Fritz.

“You need help?” I asked the big Roc.

The monstrous bird opened his eyes and gave a slight nod.

“I’ll send Darius, and I’ll be back after I get Tarryn to the infirmary.”

Fritz just closed his eyes. I figured that was as much of an answer as I was going to get.

I was back to running, slaloming through the oncoming helpers until I found a healer I recognized.

“You, healer,” I said. “I’m sorry I forgot your name, but I need you to look at him.”

The healer, a young man with dark eyes and a brooding sense about him, came to a fast stop. I dropped to a knee to bring Tarryn to a workable height.

“He’s beyond what I can handle here,” the healer said. “Take him inside. He battles the poison, but I can see him already running low on mana. He will not—“

I just started running again without listening to the rest of what the healer had to say.

The guards made a path for me, and I was able to get directly to the hospital.

“Burns or other damage?” the healer at the door asked quickly.

“Other,” I said. “Poison and puncture.”

“Last bed on the left, your grace.”

I nodded, and got Tarryn in his bed, having to put him on his stomach so as not to force the goblin bolts in any deeper.

The healer grabbed me and pushed me out of the way.

“Apologies your grace,” she said, “but we have work to do here.”

Another healer pulled me along and ushered me out. I took a moment to look at the rest of the beds, most of which were full of burn victims. I heard lots of cries, shouts of pains, and the low murmurs of people trying desperately not to die.

And then I was back outside.

“Darius!” I shouted. “Timurlan!”

“Your grace?” a Legion soldier came up to me and saluted. “You need someone?”

“I need Darius and Timurlan as fast as possible.”

“Yes, your grace,” the soldier said, and he raced off.

I started back towards Fritz, trying to come to grips with what had happened, because there really wasn’t any clarity with the situation. The gate doors were still on fire. I watched someone throw a bucket of water, but it seemed as if the water just made things worse.

“You needed me?” Darius asked, running up to me. I noticed he had the egg on his back.

“Fritz is hurt,” I said. “I don’t know if you can—“

Darius sprinted off before I could finish. It’s not like it was hard to find the bird — he was huge. And obvious.

Then Timurlan found me, and I sent him off to help Darius.

Fritz handled, I headed for the tunnel to see what was going on there.

45

Things still burned inside the tunnel, and people were clearly in pain all around. The glowstones we’d placed in the ceiling had been knocked out, and that, combined with the smoke, made it impossible to see much of anything.

So I closed my eyes and I let tremorsense do the work for me. I felt a ton of different vibrations, and for a moment, it disoriented me. But as I concentrated, I began to differentiate it all into things I could identify. Fire burning, rubble shifting, and, most important, people trying to move.

I weaved through a few staggering folks until I got to a spot where rock had fallen and trapped someone’s leg.

After a bit of lifting and grunting, I pulled a woman free of the wreckage, threw her over my shoulder, and sprinted out. As soon as I got to the mouth of the tunnel, I laid her gently on the ground, and headed back in.

Run in, find the trapped person, free them, deliver them to fresh air.

It took six more trips before I couldn’t find anyone still moving.

Somehow, fire still burned on the walls. And most problematic, I got to a point in the tunnel that was completely blocked, and I couldn’t move any farther. I braved the fire, accepting the horrendous pain to see if I could manage to pull any of the rubble out, but the fire had melted the rock together.

Also, it burned one of my hands off. So, good note: while my bones couldn’t break, it seemed that they could still be incinerated. A seriously painful lesson.

I cradled my arm and moved far enough away from the intense heat of the fires that I could begin to heal up and grow a new fucking hand, but I tripped over something.

I grabbed it and pulled it close so I could actually see it through the smoke. I was holding a chunk of bat. A chunk of large bat, like the ones the goblins rode. Quickly, I ran through my notifications until I found what I was looking for:

* * *

GG! You’ve killed a Groß Fledermaus (lvl 14 Altered Beast).

You’ve earned 320 xp! What a mighty hero you are.

* * *

A groß fledermaus. It certainly was gross, what with most of its intestines splayed out.

I took the gross groß fledermaus remains with me as I trudged out of the tunnel, trying to time my exit through the smoke to after my hand grew back.

“Your grace,” I heard someone calling out.

“I’m here,” I said, waving. “Who are you?”

“Eliza,” came the reply.

She was coughing at the edge of the smoke.

“Any chance you know what the fuck happened here?” I asked.

“Goblin attack.”

“Got any more of an idea than that?”

“Apologies, your grace. I have been in the midst of helping what’s happened out here, and I thought, perhaps, you might know. Near everyone has been searching for you.”

“I’m here.”

“Were you gone for the attack?”

“I was, yeah. An attack of my own.”

“An attack of your own?”

“I’ll explain later,” I said, looking over her at the chaos still unfolding along the wall. “For now, help me get as much of the council together as we can. Clearly we need to talk.”

She gave me a curt nod, then walked confidently away.

I helped haul the injured to the infirmary, jumping in to help wherever I could.

46

The council sat around the conference table looking glum. Most everyone had singes on their clothing or hair, some both. Lee and Tarryn were still in hospital, but everyone else was there.

“Anyone want to let me know what happened?” I asked.

“You want to start?” Nathalie asked. “You disappeared.”

“I went on a mission of my own,” I snapped back.

“And you took my warmancer with you.”

“Yes, I did.”

“You think, maybe, in the future, that might be information you should share with me?”

“Probably not. I needed to act quickly, and I didn’t know where you were.”

“Did you even try to find me?”

“Not as hard as I should have, apparently,” I said. “And perhaps I didn’t realize how integral a part of our defense capabilities Tarryn had become.”

“He was supposed to be on duty.”

“He was on duty. He was with me.”

“And what was this duty?”

“Throwing a big fireball thing from the sky into the goblin’s lair.”

“And how did that go, your grace?”

“We blew a bunch of them up.”

“So you did nothing.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s nothing, but let’s get back on fucking track here. What happened in Coggeshall?”

“Goblin attack,” Harmut said before Nathalie could rage again. “They came by air and had some magic users with them. They deployed their mages well. They blew up a fair chunk of the wall and then firebombed the tunnel.”

“They sealed the tunnel,” I said.

“Sealed how?” Harmut asked, sitting up straighter.

“I don’t know,” I replied with a shake of my head. “It looks like the fire melted the rock together or something. There’s no rubble close to the fire; it’s just a solid wall.”

“Well, that fucks us,” Harmut said.

“Not sure how much more fucked we can get,” I said.

“You think there’s a chance we can get reinforcements here?”

“You think there was a chance we could get them?”

“The Empire would send more legions—” Harmut started.

“Not right now,” Clarissa said softly. “The legions are already spread thin as it is.”

“Too many other fights happening,” Eliza added. “Arenberg and Rumib Pass.”

“Bergamo is proving hard fighting. A goodly chunk of the legion is stuck in the city itself, caught in the siege, and there seem to be too few outside to break the Carchedon lines. Which is also the case at Furstunbrunn,” Clarissa countered.

“And Kronth has invaded Glaton on the far southwestern point, apparently sieging Reidan, which has called for assistance only for none to be left to give.”

I had the feeling the two were competing to show how much information they had at their fingertips.

“So,” I said, forestalling the continued demonstration of gathered intelligence, “we’re not considerably worse off now.”

“There is no retreat,” Skeld said.

“We didn’t want to retreat anyway,” Ragnar said.

“Might have been useful to get some of our non-combatants away,” Harmut said. “If we wind up in a siege of some kind, that’s mouths to feed.”

“Except that we’re basically self-sufficient at this point,” I said, giving a look to Timurlan.

I got a nod in return.

“Mostly,” Timurlan said. “If we stick to strict rationing, we could be, and I feel we will be soon. Provided, of course, something drastic doesn’t happen with the farms.”

“Let’s not jinx it,” I snapped.

The lifeweaver just shrugged at me.

“Also, there’s Fritz,” Eliza said. “If we need something—“

“Fritz might be out of action for some time,” Timurlan broke in.

“Fuck,” I said. “How bad is he?”

“He is quite injured,” Timurlan replied, “and few of our healers have the capabilities needed to tend to him in any magical way. I have done what I could to remove the poison, but it did a fair amount of necrotic damage, destroying the muscle and feathers in numerous places around his body. It would seem, insofar as I can tell, that he will recover fully, eventually. But asking him to do much at all right now will just make his recovery take longer, or it could injure him much further. His muscles are held together—“

“I mean no disrespect, and I know I need to know this stuff, but pin it for the moment. We have a lot of other stuff to go over. And Harmut, we’ll need to make some place for Fritz to recover.”

“Fuck. That bird’s done more for us’n damn near anyone, save your grace. I’ll get my lads and lasses on it priority one.”

“Instead of fixing the wall?” Nathalie asked.

“That is already happening,” Harmut said with a dark look her way. “It will be done before any of us hit our beds.”

“Thank you, Harmut,” I said.

“Of course, your grace.”

“Is Essie ready to help you?”

“Hard to say. She’s still not speakin’.”

I nodded. “And how many dead?”

“Twelve, but I expect at least ten more to perish this night,” Timurlan said.

“I was not aware so many were killed,” Nathalie said.

“I have been assisting as I could with the healers,” he replied. “There are quite a few injured, but most, I believe will be back on their feet soon. Quite a few burns that can be eased with the proper healing. And then a lot of smoke inhalation.”

“Any other emergencies?” I asked.

There were some looks around the room, but no one said anything.

I stood up. “We meet in the morning for next steps, save you, Harmut. You get the wall repaired and to bed.”

“Yes, your grace.”

Everyone left me to sit in the room by myself. There were a few backward glances from my hirð members, but I just shook my head.

47

I found Captain Czubakowski standing on the balcony outside the ballroom, looking over our field and our walls.

“Hello there,” he said without turning around.

“You were expecting me?” I asked.

“I was. You probably want to know what happened.”

“I heard.”

“From Nathalie?”

“Yes.”

“You think she told you everything?”

“I do.”

“I hope she did.”

“I feel like you think I’m missing something.”

“I would imagine you are.”

“Can we cut with the bullshit and just speak straight, like soldiers?”

He nodded. “I tread lightly because I do not wish to disrespect you or those you’ve chosen to lead. But this was a clever attack made worse by leadership’s poor choices.”

“Me or Nathalie?”

“Yes.” He pointed up and to the west. “The first attack came from the west. Bat flyers, which I take are new, came in, harried those on the wall and those on the towers. There was little attempt to fight back, because it would seem you are lacking, quite badly, ranged fighters.”

“We have some archers,” I said.

“But do you know how many?”

“No. I actually don’t know how many soldiers we have. Or what types.”

Czubakowski took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Your few archers are on watch during the day. There was no one practiced with a bow on any of your walls.”

“So the bats just fucked shit up?”

“They certainly tried, but the initial pass was clearly, to my mind at least, set up to see what your defenses were, and to provide an opportunity for what happened next.”

“Which was?”

“The assault on the tunnel. Several more bat flyers came from the north, straight across the road, over the second gates, and into the tunnel. By that time, there were leaders on the field, and the reserve guard had been called up. I had my troops arming, ready for action. Nathalie ordered a squad to follow the bats into the tunnel. As soon as they were in the tunnel, the explosion went off. I believe it to be arcane in nature, but the truth of the matter eludes me.”

“And the gates?”

“I would presume there was a second wave ready to hit the tunnel were the first to fail. They came in from the north after the explosion and went straight for the front gate. And, as you can see,” he gestured with his hand, “the fire still burns.”

“I noticed that.”

“Whatever this fire they have developed might be, it is very dangerous to us, and our fortifications.”

“Well shit,” I said.

“Indeed.”

“No archers.”

“None.”

“And the legion?”

“We stood ready. But we were never called to action. When things were truly to shit, and fighting had turned to rescue and repair, I sent my troops out to help. Making sure to stay off of Nathalie’s toes.”

“She’s a bit touchy.”

“I think she understands the depth of her ineptitude in this regard, but also has no idea how to get out of it.”

“You think I should pull her?”

“You mean find a different commander of your guard?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“Yes. But who?”

“Don’t suppose you’re close to retirement.”

“Definitely not.”

“What if—”

“Are you about to ask if my wife will take command only for me to actually issue the orders and do the work of building and maintaining your army?”

“No — that’s much better than anything I had thought of.”

“I won’t do it.”

“Or she won’t do it.”

“I doubt she would do it.”

“So you’re saying there’s a chance.”

“There is always a chance.”

“Probably not the best idea, though, is it? Because I’ve met your wife, and she’s a lovely woman, but she also doesn’t really enjoy listening to you.”

“Yes, obviously that is the problem with the idea.”

“One of the problems.”

“Can we move off this particular stupid plan?”

“Do you have another stupid plan?”

“No, but this is your problem to solve, not mine.”

“Well, sure. But I was hoping you might be able to help.”

“I know so few people here, how could I help? Wait, what was your idea?”

“See if any of your other officers are close to retirement.”

“None.”

“Sergeants?”

“One.”

“Do you think—”

“No.”

“Okay, well, I had to try.”

“That’s it?”

“I mean, that’s it of asking you for your men. Or you. Or your wife.”

“I appreciate that it’s the end of you asking for my wife.”

‘Do you think she’d—“

“I thought we were done with that.”

“We are. Just a joke.”

“Have we not already had a talk about your atrocious sense of humor?”

“Maybe?”

“So we need to have another one?”

“No, one hypothetical conversation is enough.”

“I am sure there is someone within your hold who can manage a military better than Nathalie. Perhaps not particularly well, but better than the Lady Glaton.”

“She’s that bad?”

“It’s not that she is bad, your grace. She is inexperienced and seemingly unwilling to learn. I fear she is afraid of failing, only to fail because of her fear. She under prepares and overreacts. She makes calls based on instincts or incorrect assumptions. Why would she only have archers during the day? Why bother with all these walls and then not have archers to cover them all? She has... I am sorry, I do not wish to disparage her. I believe she comes at this from a place of good. She wants to be good, she wants to do the job you have given her—”

“She just can’t handle it right now.”

“That is my belief on the matter. I will do my utmost to help you, and if you choose, I will offer to educate her in what I know, but I fear she has already decided I do not know what it is she needs. Or, perhaps, that I am mistaken. Or that she—“

I held up a hand. “I get it,” I said.

“I urge you to move quickly, your grace,” the captain replied. “These goblins have surely tested us and found us lacking. Twice, by my calculations. They are impressively cunning, and I doubt they will give you time to prepare.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

“I fear you have more to worry about than you suspect.”

48

I spent the rest of the night hauling blocks for the wall rebuilding. It was interesting to watch the construction teams at work. They started by knocking out all the damaged stone, and then just rebuilt with new stone. It was a reasonably quick process, just, well, the blocks were insanely heavy and there were a lot of busted bits of wall.

Somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, the fires on the gate finally burned out, leaving the stones of the gatehouse glowing, and mostly ash where there once had been heavy doors. The hinges just sort of hung off the wall. I sighed, and helped pull a wagon into place, figuring that we’d get a door in place the following day.

The sun peeked around the peaks when the walls were done, and I made sure I was the last one inside.

I managed to find Zoey having breakfast, and asked her to help me out of my armor.

“How did it work?” she asked.

“Fine,” I replied. “I didn’t really have much of a chance to test it—“

“You realize this is not exactly the usual job of your head smith?” she asked through a mouthful of bacon.

“Taking off my armor?” I asked. “But you’re so good at it.”

“You need a squire,” she said. “And likely a page.”

“What do they do?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “The squire helps you with your arms and armor and fights alongside you. Your page helps your squire and takes care of your horses.”

“Ah. I could see that being useful if I had horses.”

“You should have a horse.”

“What horse could I ride?”

“Can you ride horses?”

“No.”

“That limits those that would work, eh?”

“A bit.”

“You should learn to ride. And find someone else to take you out of your armor.”

She got up and walked away from me, still in my armor.

“Balls,” I said.

49

I managed to get out of my armor with the help of a horde of prinkies. It never worked as well as I hoped, because they often started fighting amongst themselves over who got to do what, and then I’d have to wade into the glitter of prinkies and tell them all to knock it the fuck off and get back to work.

Then shower.

Towel off.

Cautiously return to my bedroom and see if there was someone there.

Get dressed.

Return to the cantina and eat.

Which was basically the normal start of a day.

Except I’d forgotten something.

“Did you forget something, your grace?” asked my humble secretary Hugo.

“I’m guessing yes,” I replied. “But since I forgot—“

“There was a council meeting this morning.”

“Motherfuck.”

“I will note it as such, your grace.”

“Wait, so the meeting happened?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“And no one thought to get me?”

“They presumed you were exhausted and might appreciate some rest.”

“Well, they presumed wrong,” I snapped, getting to my feet so fast that I flipped the table over.

I took a half-second to right it, and then gave a mild apology to the rest of the diners who were all staring at me. Then I stormed out of the cantina and down the stairs.

“They are no longer in the conference room, your grace,” Hugo said, hurrying behind me as fast as his little old legs could carry him.

I stopped, and he ran into me.

“Apologies, your grace,” he said.

“Where is everyone, then?”

“Ah, right,” Hugo said, and whipped out a clipboard. “I believe Harmut is sleeping. Timurlan is prepping gardens. Your hirð is, well, I have no current idea. Nathalie is prepping the army to march, and—“

“She’s doing what?”

“Prepping the army, your—”

I’m going to assume he said grace, I just didn’t stop to hear it. Instead, I sprinted down the hall, jumped down a set of stairs, ate shit on the floor, got up, dusted myself off, and then ran again to the outside, where I saw ranks of men and women in armor. Nathalie was riding a horse in front of them, looking over the collected soldiers.

I slid to a stop, then calmly walked along the soldiers, nodding at any who glanced over at me.

“Commander Glaton,” I shouted, “a moment, if you will.”

“Of course, your grace,” she said, and she handed a small notebook to a man riding next to her before cantering over to me.

I had to look up at her, considering she was on horseback.

“Mind telling me what’s going on?” I whispered.

“I am going on the attack, your grace,” she said.

“Okay,” I said. “I figured that might be something we’d have decided together.”

“I was under the impression military decisions were mine.”

“They are. Just—“

“You wish to countermand my order?”

“I wish to be on the same page with you. And if I yell at you here, and tell you to stand down, all these motherfuckers out here are going to get nervous, which is the exact opposite of what we need right fucking now.”

“Of course, your grace.”

“Don’t you think I should accompany you on this little quest of yours?”

“No. Given the events of last night, and what we have seen of the goblins, I am reasonably confident they are basing their actions off of your location. If you come with us, the goblins will avoid us, and will attack here. If we leave you here, we will have a stand-up battle, and we will crush the goblins.”

“That seems a bit like wishful thinking.”

“I disagree. The goblins have succeeded so far because they have been able to attack from a position of surprise. Any time we fight back, we do so tremendously well, last night aside.”

“Last night was a rather egregious cluster-fuck.”

“I concur. But I am making up for my deficiencies now. In addition, if you remain here, you are a deterrent when we lack some of our defenses. Fritz is not able to fly overhead to watch out for attacks, nor to stave off the bat flyers. I spoke to Harmut about the door, and he worries he will not have a replacement for a few days. Meaning you need to stay here to hold the line, should we fail. But we will not fail.”

I reached up to give my beard a tug and just wound up scratching scruff.

“I don’t think this is the best course of action,” I said. And I saw her eyes harden. There was more going on with Nathalie than I knew, and while I think it’s usually a pretty good idea to vent and be truthful, right before battle is not always the best time for introspection and breaking down emotional walls. If I pulled her, it would devastate her, and likely lead to issues with the troops, who did believe in her as their commander, for better or worse. She was also a Glaton, and that held a whole load of emotional baggage with it. My hands felt tied. “But I trust you. Good luck out there.”

“Thank you, your grace,” she said, with a half smile.

She got her horse to rear up, waved her sword in a circle and yelled for the company to move out.

The soldiers seemed enthusiastic, at least, all things considered. They marched through our ruined gatehouse and along the road headed north.

50

I had a quick meeting with Captain Czubakowski. He put a chunk of his men at the gate, ready to form a shield wall should the need present itself. Kind of a living gate. I would have done it myself, but I still had shit to do, like figure out how the fuck I was going to replace Nathalie while, at the same time, really hoping she wasn’t about to fuck everything up. It was a big, strange mix of emotions.

In that vein, I went and found Clarissa, who was in Nikolai’s — her office.

I startled her by coming in quickly. She tried to stand up, knocking a plate off her desk and scattering greens around the room.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” I said.

“It is,” she started, then stopped. “It is fine, your grace, I am just jumpy.”

“For future reference,” I said, dropping into the seat opposite her desk, “I would prefer to always be included in the meetings.”

“I felt that was the case, but Nathalie was quite firm that she needed to muster the army and move them out as soon as physically possible. And we had seen you working all night. I apologize for my incorrect assumption.”

“Great. Now, let’s pretend I’ve got to find a new military commander. Who might I look to?”

“In this game of pretend, are we also pretending our tunnel is closed and we are cut off from the world?”

“Sure, that sounds appropriate.”

“So we are pretend picking from pretend people in Coggeshall?”

“Let’s pretend pick from real people.”

“And are we pretending anyone we ask will say yes?”

“No, we’re being a bit more realistic than that.”

“Ah.” She leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

“Any ideas?”

“Not particularly. I have been trying to do a little, um, rather I have attempted to make Coggeshall more efficient. If my predecessor left coherent notes about the topic of who lived here, I have yet to find them. So I have been making my way through the holding myself, trying to get to know who is who and what their expertise is. And at Amber’s urging, what they want to do. I have yet to meet anyone with a military Choice, and certainly not found any who profess a desire to move in that direction.”

“Have you spoken to those in the military?”

“Not yet.”

“That might be one of the reasons you’re not having much luck.”

“I thought as much. And I am hopeful finding someone there, but what will the ramifications be, your grace, of selecting someone to become the commander from within the ranks?”

“That’s probably the best way to do it.”

“Then I concur.”

“You know very little of the military, do you?”

“It is a rather large hole in my knowledge at present. I was informed there was a large contingent of former Thingmen who joined Coggeshall, but I have yet to meet them.”

“Yeah, Wian. He’s off chasing the princess.”

“Please tell me he’s not seeking Princess Glaton.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s her.”

“Will it overly complicate things if I say I might know something about where she’s gone?”

“I don’t want to sound brusque here, but I couldn’t give a fuck about the princess right now. I don’t care where she is or what she’s doing. I mean, what she’s doing is pulling away the most experienced soldiers we had at a time where, clearly, we could use them. Especially because I have no idea when the motherfucker is coming back. Or if he’s coming back. There are also some legion remnants, but they are mostly mustered out, so not exactly in fighting age.”

“One might be in a more commanding age?”

“Might is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence. Something is going on with Nathalie, and if I had to guess, it’s a mixture of her brother being killed and her not being fit for her current position, but too proud to admit that. We’re going to need to work on mitigating damage she might do while looking for a replacement.”

“Is that official business for me?”

“Isn’t all of this official business for you?”

“What were the duties you required of your last chancellor?”

“He did most everything, I think. I probably should be more involved with the day-to-day running of Coggeshall, but, I sadly have not really, uh, done that.”

“I can certainly be on the look out for someone who can do that.”

“It’s also come to my attention that I could use a squire and a page.”

“Ah, yes, I do have a note in reference to something like that.”

“Zoey?”

“She was rather strongly suggesting that we rethink our smithing goals if she is to serve as your dresser.”

“She doesn’t dress me.”

“Her words, your grace.”

“She makes a good point. I never really realized how much putting armor on was a two-person job.”

“As I understand, it functions better with three people.”

“I need two squires?”

“Duke Ginsburg has five squires and eighteen pages, though they do not all travel with him.”

“That seems like a lot.”

“A duke is an important person. Usually it requires many people to make a dukedom work smoothly.”

“Who else do we need?”

“It is a lengthy list, your grace.”

I tapped the desk as I got up.

“Make the list,” I said. “We’ll get it done. You know, provided we aren’t all sacrificed by the night goblins to their horrible gods.”

The color drained from her face despite my smile.

“Is that going to happen?” she asked.

“I mean, hopefully not?” I replied with a smile. “That’s just what’s probably going to happen if we aren’t able to, uh, defend ourselves.”

“Are we going to be able to defend ourselves?”

“Of course.”

“So my worries are overblown?”

“They are. Probably.”

“I am just overflowing with confidence now.”

“Find me a general, then we’ll probably do better.”

“Yes, your grace.”

I gave her a smile and left.

51

The day passed with unpleasant regularity. There were fewer people around, and the guard posts were stuck with either skeleton crews or legion crews. But everyone seemed willing to indulge in the illusion that things were normal. Which struck me as even stranger than acknowledging what had gone on.

I found Carpophorus standing outside on the wall, looking pensively towards the north.

“Afternoon,” I said.

“Yer grace,” he replied.

“You wishing you were out there?”

“Not in the slightest. You thinkin’ of trainin’ today?”

“I mean, that wasn’t really the first thing on my mind.”

Carpophorus nodded, still looking northward. “Aye, for the best. Gotta keep relaxed for the shit-storm acomin.’”

“Is there something you know?”

“I know I would’ve been keepin’ the army here, use our walls.”

“Not in agreement with your commander?”

“Ask any soldier any day whether they agree with the officers, and you either find a liar or a contrarian. Officers are all fools, soldiers are all dunderheads.”

“How comforting to learn that the military is made up of idiots who hate each other.”

“Only way war works, far as I can tell.”

“So is Nathalie a good commander?”

“Loaded question, yer grace.”

“Pretend I’m not your duke—“

“That be impossible, yer grace.”

“You want to be in charge?”

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely not, yer grace. Beggin’ yer pardon, but I know nothin’ beyond trainin’ idiots to kill other idiots, which be nothin’ along the lines o’ what I would need to command more’n ten grunts at a time. Nothin’ about cavalry, next to nothin’ about archery, and I have no desire to learn nothin’ about schedulin’ or logistics. Let me swing blades, bash shields, smack faces. That be all I need or want.”

“Even if it comes with a raise?”

“I live in the one hold where gold be particularly useless. Why would I want more gold I can’t spend?”

I sighed.

“Nathalie Glaton ain’t bad,” he finally said. “She’s got jolly ideas. She just be focused on, well, she’s more familiar with certain types of fighting, and I think she thinks she can extrapolate from what she knows and have that work for everything.”

“But she can’t, right?” I asked.

“Sometimes genius comes from them who don’t know what’s impossible.”

“You feel confident with her in charge?”

“I be the wrong man to ask. I only train yer soldiers.”

“Should I change command?”

Carpophorus turned to look at me, squinting a bit against the light. Then he shook his head.

“Determined to put me on the record?” he asked. “It be a bad time to change command, bein’ that we be in the midst of a conflict, and she be in charge. I would recommend keepin’ ‘er. An’ I would recommend not blabberin’ about this here particular topic with any other soldier. Ideally, ye would confine such a conversation to the fuckin’ council made up o’ assholes specifically designed fer such advice. Now, granted, because the two of us have a different relationship, with me beatin’ the shite out of ye on the regular, I suppose it makes some sense fer the two o’ us to chat in this here liberal way, wherein a duke discusses the appointment o’ the general with a low-level grunt like me.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Shall we get to training?”

“Uh, I thought we were—”

“That was a wee bit of sarcasm, lad. No time for rest in war.”

And so, like it had been so many times in the past, we continued our own little war, where a smaller man beat the crap out of a larger, stronger man in the name of education. But I did get another point in swords, so, you know, had that going for me.

52

Day two with our army in the field was remarkably similar to day one, in that we all just did our normal things. Harmut started examining the damage to the tunnel, and the carpenters started work on the big doors for the two sets of gates. Timurlan came up and said he was expecting better than forecasted yields from most of his farm projects, largely due to so many helping hands. The centaurs were very gifted farmers, it turns out.

Alexander Czubakowski had a group of overlooked recruits training in the field, working on shield walls and spear maneuvers. There were quite a few centaurs in this group as well, which was incredibly interesting to see. There were obvious advantages to using them for a shield wall. Centaurs undoubtedly had more weight than most humans, and seemed to have more strength, but the biggest advantage they had was their four feet. That gave them extra traction, and allowed them to really dig into the dirt and push. Even with just the most basic instruction and virtually no experience, the centaurs held their own with the legion, much to the legion’s chagrin.

Eventually, Hugo found me there, leaning against the wall and watching others work.

“Your grace,” Hugo said.

“Hugo,” I replied. “Not exactly a lot to do.”

“It would seem we are in a bit of a lull.”

“Is that normal in, uh, war?”

“I admit I have little experience directly in wartime, I have fortunately been within the depths of the Empire any time there has been a conflict.”

“Is that the long version of I don’t know?”

“Yes, your grace,” he said, with a slight smile on his slight face. He seemed to consider things for a moment before joining me in leaning against the wall.

In front of us, the legion and centaur shield walls came together with a mighty crash. There were grunts and groans as both sides fought to push the other away. Each side had a leader roaring out orders, compelling those involved to greater acts of strength.

“Hold!” roared Czubakowski, waiting for the moment he could yell: “PUSH!”

And the centaurs pushed. The legion held for a moment, but then began to skid backward, causing more of the legion to join in until it was definitely an unfair matchup. But they finally stopped the centaurs’ onslaught.

I sighed, knowing there was definitely more I should be doing with myself.

53

I made sure to spend time with those who were injured. I sat next to Lee and listened to him talk quietly about the old world. I traded terrible jokes with Baltu, while waiting for him to start into stories of his time under the capital city. And I even kept Fritz company in his big arch, the quick and dirty roc-sized hangar we built out of spare stone blocks. It wasn’t particularly pretty, but it kept Fritz out of the weather, and he seemed to like it there. He didn’t even complain when the little ones found him and he became something of a playground for the Coggeshall children.

Tarryn was slow to recover, and had to submit to several procedures dreamt up by Timurlan to investigate the effects of the goblin poison. It was gnarly stuff. It seemed to generate some rather long-lasting issues, including some necrosis, which had to be cut out in order to stop. And because Timurlan was studying, he let the necrosis grow several times after cutting it out.

Essie refused to speak to anyone, even Mercy, her friend from Osterstadt. Any time I spent in the hospital area, I’d make sure to keep an eye on Essie, on the off chance she’d be ready to talk. But most of the time, she just stared into space, not blinking. The not-blinking thing really got to me, it’s what really pushed everything into the creepy zone.

On the third night, I decided I’d just wait her out. I grabbed a chair and pulled it up next to Essie. The kobolds next to her had recently left the hospital, having healed up enough to go home again. Lee was on the verge of that, and Baltu would probably be out next. All that to say that I had a bit of privacy from the rest of the hospital.

As the shift changed, going from multiple healers to the single one who’d be up all night, I leaned back in the chair, really hoping it wasn’t going to break.

The lights dimmed, which seemed impossible to me. I made a mental note to see how that could happen—

* * *

You have been offered a quest:

Enlighten Yourself

Learn how illumination works in Vuldranni

Reward for success: More Light

Penalty for failure (or refusal): unknown

Yes/No

* * *

Fuck.

Me and my stupid brain, getting me into quests.

The healer made her round, gave me a bit of a smile, and then retreated to the far end of the room near the door, ready to accept new patients as needed.

Some snoring started. Followed by more. Not bad, nor loud. Just gentle kobold snores.

It was a little weird, just sitting there.

It was also weird to see Essie so out of sorts. She’d always been a bit of a hot mess, but I’d always suspected that was a look she’d cultivated to come off as unassuming. But now, she was an actual mess.

“Evening Essie,” I said.

She didn’t respond, which I expected. But I figured talking to her was a good idea.

“It’s been a while since we talked,” I said. “Might be nice if we chatted a bit. I have trouble sleeping, or, I mean, I think some people think I don’t sleep. Which is partially true. I don’t sleep. Not that much at any rate. And being that you seem to spend a lot of time awake, I figured, maybe, you know, you’d want a little company tonight. Also, might be good for me to talk a little bit.”

No big response from Essie, but it seemed like she managed to relax. Just a little sort of release, sinking into the bed.

I took a glance around the room, made sure there was no one within real listening distance, and then leaned in a little closer to Essie.

“I’m not exactly from here,” I said. “From Vuldranni, I mean. I’m, I had this other place that I called home. Which is a place that’s completely and totally different from here. And it’s hard to explain, partially because I don’t even understand it. I don’t really know how I got here. And this place is so different that I hardly know how to make sense of it all. I didn’t look like this back home. I was really a no one. Hell, the fact that I was nothing and no one was like, intrinsic to who I was, and part of my value to others. Back there, I wasn’t in charge. Of anything. Barely even of my day-to-day existence. I tended to, um, seek out ways to divulge responsibility. Find someone else to take care of facets of life. Which sometimes was little stuff, you know. Get a job where you get fed. Other times, bigger things, like being given housing. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. Maybe I should start at the beginning. Or not start at all. Maybe—“

I felt a touch, and saw that Essie’s hand on my leg.

“Keep going?” I asked, but I got no response. “I’ll keep going. I was, I mean, I had good parents. A decent life. But then they passed away. That’s what we say when we want to be nice about things. They passed away. They were killed in an accident. A deer ran across the road, my mom swerved to avoid it, and crossed over to the other lane and hit a semi head-on. She and my dad were gone in an instant. I was at Danny Preston’s house — we were in scouts together. Had a scout thing that weekend. My parents were doing the staycation thing, and I headed into the wilds with my troop. I didn’t find out what had happened until I got home on Tuesday.”

I paused, swallowing the emotions and memories, wondering why the fuck I was doing this. But her hand was still on my leg. Maybe it was helping. Maybe it was even helping me.

“There’s probably a lot of words you don’t understand, things that don’t exactly translate over to Vuldranni. Or Glaton. I became an orphan. I had no family to take me in, so I got into the system, but I was really too old to be placed in any real home. I bounced through the system, going into several families until there was one who just wanted an extra check every month. I had to leave my wonderful, caring private high school and go to a real shithole of a shithole. Everything about me suffered. I didn’t want to be in a world that was so awful. I barely graduated high school, and then, I mean, my foster family wasn’t being paid anymore, so they kicked me out.

“My parents — not my foster parents, my real parents — they saved money for college for me. College is, I mean, like advanced education. The money was just for me, not my foster parents, and that meant I could be young and dumb. So I took the money and I moved away. To a place called Philadelphia. I spent all the money, and came crawling back to Detroit. I crashed on a few couches until it became clear I needed a job. I always tried to freeload as long as I could. And being that I had no real marketable skills, I mostly tried to hustle pool. I was doing some hustling in a bar one night, and a fight started. Maybe you might call it a brawl, a five-on-one sort of a thing. I jumped in to even the odds, and the two of us won. And that guy turned out to be a member of a motorcycle club, the Iron Brood. Motorcycles are, uh, I guess kind of like iron horses. And the club was really only a club from the outside. Inside it was much, uh, tighter. I’d called it a brotherhood. A family. And for me, who hadn’t had a family in a while, I fell into it hard. I wanted that family, and I was willing to do anything they asked. Which, on the one hand, meant I made it to full-patch really damn fast, and on the other, meant I threw away any moral code I’d built in favor of the Iron Brood code. Which was basically a blanket ‘fuck everyone else except our family.’ The Iron Brood became my job. Full patch members earned a cut of the club’s profits, and the profits were good.

“We ran drugs, guns, anything you can imagine between Canada and the US. I did a lot of loan work. Basically getting people to borrow money and then I’d beat the shit out of them until they paid us back a lot more money. It was amazing, in a fucked up way. I felt like I belonged, that I was powerful. There was a real excitement living that lifestyle.

“But I don’t want it to seem like it was all good. It was, in retrospect, a horrible life. I lived in the clubhouse, more or less. I slept outside half the year, I had a hideous list of injuries that I never gave time to heal. I drank incredible amounts of alcohol, I spent most of my waking hours either on my bike or in fights. I ruined other people’s lives, and barely had one of my own.”

I took a deep breath, and wondered how deep down this path I wanted to go. I probably would have stopped except that I saw Essie’s eyes on me.

“I’ll go on,” I said, answering the question I hadn’t asked. “I’d probably have died in that life, except that we got word of the FBI or the DEA or one of those alphabet agencies. Might have been the ATF now that I think about it, or, you know, we were all so fucked out of our minds on various drugs that it could’ve all been paranoia. But we believed there was an undercover cop among us. And being that I had done most of the worst stuff — that was kind of my job in the club — it was decided I needed to take a job outside of the state. Ideally, out of the country, if we could swing it. Just happened that a circus was setting up and looking for people to join on the touring crew. I signed up, and the next day I was living in a hotel with a guy from Quebec. Within a month, I was in Canada, three months, and I was in Europe. Which was over an ocean. I know it probably just sounds like, I don’t know, nonsense words, but I’m trying.

“I met good people there. I had a simple job, setting up tents and making sure things worked. Sometimes I did plumbing, other times I was an assistant electrician. I groomed horses, I popped corn and served soft drinks. I was the floater who would do anything. It was awesome. I lost a ton of weight, because I wasn’t drinking. My head cleared up, and I started to remember who I’d been. And I met someone there. A lot of someones, really. But two important ones.”

I sat there in silence for a moment, just staring at the hewn stone wall opposite me. Getting close to talking about the girl had me disappearing into my head.

“This guy named Normand owned the circus. He had been involved with a bunch of different stuff over the years, and made just a ton of money. Legit stuff, at least, for the most part. I always had the feeling there was a jumpstart of illicit cash in the beginning, which seemed to me like the reason why we were always good buddies. We could smell the evil in each other. But also saw that each was trying to do better. It was a theme for the two of us. We wanted to be better men, and we challenged each other to do it. It was a game at first, but it grew into something more, and he really became a father figure for me.

“I understand why I needed to leave the circus, but, man, I wish I could have just stayed there forever. For a very hard life, it was simple. Lots of hard physical work, but few moral quandaries, if at all. And no real need to think about anything complex. Round peg in round hole type stuff. The worst I ever had to worry about was which knot to tie.”

“What about the other one?” Essie asked very softly.

“That’s the tough one to talk about,” I said. “She’s the reason I left. And the reason I became who I am. Who I was. She was, I mean, she was all the clichés they say about love and life and everything. We had something real, at least I thought. Obviously I only know myself — I can’t explain what she did, but for me, it was love. Real love. And we, I mean, I, I don’t want it to seem like I had no, you know, choice in the matter, but I grew as much as I could have in the circus, and I think Normand saw that. And he saw that, well, that other people needed me to keep growing. This girl, she needed me to keep growing as a person because she needed to keep growing. She was, I mean, she was so much better than me, in, like, every way. Her family had money, serious money. And was Canadian. Which I won’t really hold against them, even though they weren’t exactly keen on me being American. Her mother was... It’s not important. Her family weren’t fans of me. And that’s being nice. But the girl was a fan. She said she was in love, and we started a life together in Detroit.

“I wasn’t really working with the Iron Brood any longer. I was doing construction grunt work. Helping fix up houses. But every once in a while, when our bills were tight, I’d do a job for the Brood. They liked having a contract-worker they could trust, and I liked the under-the-table cash. And I thought we were going to be doing something like, living our lives, you know. But then everything went to shit, like always happens.”

“What happened?” Essie asked, her voice still barely audible. She was looking at me intently.

“The girl—” I started, but the door to the hospital banged open. The healer stood up so quickly her chair hit the floor, and Ragnar stomped inside, leaving a trail of water behind him.

“You need to see this,” the wet lutra said.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” I snapped.

“We’re all about to be in the middle of something,” Ragnar snapped back. “You need to come now.”

I turned and gave Essie a wan smile.

“Promise you’ll tell me the rest,” Essie said.

“You get better,” I said, “and I’ll tell you the rest.”

She gave a little nod, and then, in what seemed like the first time in days, she closed her eyes.

I waited a half second, then Ragnar was yanking on my sleeve.

“Let’s go,” he said, and I followed.

54

It was late, but I wasn’t sure how late. Enough that we didn’t pass anyone in the halls.

Ragnar moved at his top speed, sprinting down corridors and leaping down stairwells. It took me a second to figure out where we were going, but then it hit me. We were making a bee-line for the worm-tunnel.

“Why are we running?” I yelled after him. “And why are you wet?”

He didn’t respond. He just kept going.

“Montana!” came a yell behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw the lumbering bulk of a dark minotaur. I skidded to a stop.

“Darius?” I asked.

“The egg!” he shouted back.

“Fuck,” I replied.

“Montana!” Ragnar screamed. “Come on!”

“Is it now?” I asked Darius, but kind of already jogging toward the sprinting Ragnar.

“It’s fucking hatching!” Darius replied. “Can you stop running?”

“No!” Ragnar shouted for me.

“No,” I said. “Can you run with us?”

“Don’t exactly have a choice,” he replied, breathing hard.

“Follow at your own pace,” I said. “Apparently I have to sprint there.”

“You do!” Ragnar shouted as he jumped down another set of stairs.

I sighed, and raced after Ragnar.

Down we went into the depths of MountainHome. Finally, we got to a group of dwarves staring down a corridor, which I knew ended in the hidden door to the worm-tunnel.

Ragnar stopped a few steps down from them and I managed to halt before I bumped into them.

I slipped through the group of dwarves and stood next to the lutra.

“What am I supposed to see here?” I asked.

“Water,” Ragnar said.

Looking down the hall, I saw glints of reflection.

I walked down the hall, and it wasn’t very far until I heard wet footsteps. My own. There was a solid inch of water on the ground, water that was rippling a little. I frowned, but continued on.

As the hall sloped gently down, the depth of the water increased. A natural thing, except of course, for the whole there had never been water here before. It was very cold, bitingly cold, something I found out quite quickly when the water level rose over my boots. And then filled my boots in with that frigid water.

“Your grace?” Darius called out. His voice echoed weirdly through the tunnel and off the water.

“Give me a minute,” I replied, getting to the wading point.

“You don’t have a minute.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed, making it clear to whomever was watching that I was annoyed. But I turned back toward Darius.

He had the egg out of his backpack-carrier, and set it down on the ground.

The egg moved around as whatever was inside struggled to get out.

“What am I supposed to do again?” I asked.

“Just wait,” he replied.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” I said, pointing down the hall, “something rather big is happening here.”

“And something big is happening here,” Darius snapped back. “How often does an egg gifted by a god hatch in front of you?”

He made a point. Not exactly a point that I liked, but a point nonetheless.

I knelt down next to the egg and put my hand on the shell. It felt more like leather than shell — a little pliable.

The creature inside the egg pushed against the shell with its hands. Or feet. Hard to tell. I could tell, however, that it had a mouth filled with teeth, as it tried to bite through the leathery membrane.

I looked up at Darius, who stared at the egg with something like maternal pride.

“Should I do anything?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Maybe?”

“Glad I have you here to help.”

“You’re the one who thought I could.”

“Anyone ever tell you you need to believe in yourself more?”

“Most everyone I meet.”

“Ever think about acting on that?”

“All the time.”

“And?”

“This is the improved version.”

“Lovely.”

Feeling water lapping around my knees, I decided now was not the time for waiting and patience. I grabbed the outer layer of the egg and pulled.

It tore, not quite like leather, but a bit, revealing a creature inside. Something with claws. It reached out toward the moderate light of the tunnel, pulling itself into the world, a bundle of fur and limbs and teeth. It moved so quickly I had difficulty parsing what the fuck was happening.

* * *

Look at that, you’ve discovered a new lifeform.

As you are the first sentient being to see this creature, you gain 1000 XP immediately. Additionally, you gain naming rights to this creature. You will need to provide a name for the creature within thirty (30) days or the naming rights will move to the next sentient to discover this creature.

* * *

Every one in the area seemed to pause at exactly the same time, and I had to guess we all received the notification and the xp bump. That was pretty cool. However, I wondered if anyone else got naming rights. Maybe that was just me. And what the fuck was I supposed to name this thing? The pressure of—

And then another thing came out of the egg.

And another

And another.

Five things I had yet to name in total.

For a heartbeat, they were still, all staring at me with big eyes, and I had a second to examine them. They looked kind of like overgrown weasels, but with too many legs and a slightly more brutish head. Their fur was matted, a bit wet, but I could see they had a certain sheen to them. But they were still cute as fuck. I mean, they were babies, of course they were cute. Big eyes, big noses, somewhat chubby cheeks and big pads on their paws. They were—
hungry

It wasn’t like something was talking into my mind so much as I could feel something being communicated.

hunger
wet

I had a very bad feeling this was about to get super weird, and that I wasn’t going to have much in the way of internal peace.

“Okay,” I said, “we have giant weasels.”

weasel?

“Let’s not worry about that,” I said.

“What aren’t we worrying about?” Darius asked.

“The, uh, super weasels. I think they’re hungry.”

“They’re hungry? Are they talking to you?”

“In a roundabout sort of way.”

“What is that?”

“In my head.”

“Telepathy? That’s amaz—“

“Seems more primitive than that — more like I get feelings.”

“Ah.”

“So, uh,” I turned towards the creatures, “you guys should probably know that Darius here is more your caretaker—“

The five sets of eyes turned over to Darius.

Darius smiled, then said: “I see what you mean.”

All the eyes went back to me. One of them jumped and latched onto my leg.

“Hey,” I said, pulling the little guy off without much success. He really got his claws into my pants while somehow managing to miss my flesh.

Then another one jumped on me. And another one, and another. All five ended up on me in some capacity, with one particularly brave little guy sitting on my shoulder. Like a horrible sort of parrot.

“They like you,” Ragnar said.

“I still need to figure out where the water is coming from,” I said.

“The worm tunnel,” Ragnar said.

“Really?”

“Yes. The worm tunnel is full of water.”

“When did that happen?”

“Not sure. The guys on guard came and got me, told me what was happening. I came to check it out, and then I came and got you.”

“How fast is this place flooding?”

“All this happened in the last hour.”

“Fuck,” I said, ignoring the creatures crawling over me for a second. “Hey, little guys, I have to go swimming, so you need to stay with Uncle Ragnar. He’s family. Look! He’s furry like you.”

The one sitting on my shoulder jumped at Ragnar, latching onto Ragnar’s shoulder. But while the superweasels looked small on me, they looked pretty big on Ragnar. As soon as there were two on him, Ragnar started to disappear under the bodies of my little super weasels.

“Waaagh!” Ragnar cried out as he fell to the floor.

“Darius,” I said, “mind giving him a hand?”

I turned and waded into the water.

55

It was cold and dark. You know, the perfect swimming conditions for fun and enjoyment. I pulled myself along, my head occasionally bumping the ceiling as I swam. I did my best to keep my head above the water, but it wasn’t very far along before I had to duck down.

I took a second to push into darkvision, and saw that it was the normal tunnel. There was a small current pushing back against me, but not much. Clearly, water was coming in from somewhere in front of me. I could hear creaks and groans.

Once up against the door, I could feel the cold water coming in harder, from all the seams around the door, and especially through the peephole, which had clearly been opened at some point. So I swam over to the peephole and peeped on through. Well, I tried to peep through, but the water coming through was so strong, it felt like it was going to rip my eyeball out of the fucking socket.

The noises I’d heard were louder near the door, but they were intermittent, and I couldn’t tell what they came from. My initial thought was that it was coming from the worm tunnel, just the way the creaks and clicks reverberated through the water.

But of course that wasn’t it. The true source of the noise became very clear when the door failed and the full force of the incoming water hit me.

I shot back up the tunnel, pushed by an incredible amount of water, going faster and faster until the glowstones zipped by in a blur and were extinguished by water.

There was a rather finite distance the water could go — the end of the tunnel — which was a wall. I met the wall at speed, and probably would have broken some bones if it was possible. Instead, I just went splat, bug-on-windshield style.

Pain washed over me like the water had, but I shook it off as best I could. I clawed along the walls pulling, myself into the stairwell.

Which was now filling with water.

Lots of water.

It shot me up, bouncing me off of the stone steps in a horrible cartwheel. I saw stars, and then some dwarves flailing in the water. I grabbed who I could and shoved them upward.

I bumped into Darius, who was also trying his best to swim, but clearly had no levels in it. He was doing some sort of underwater doggy-paddle thing, but his hooves did nothing to propel him forward or upward. His eyes were wide in panic. I got a grip on his horns and pulled him upward until he was at the roiling surface.

“What’s happening?” Darius shouted, trying to keep from getting water into his mouth.

“Water!” I shouted.

“Obvious—” he started to respond, but his choking stopped him short, and I had to hold his head up while he flailed around.

The dwarves also needed help. As the rushing water pushed us up the stairwell, I had to engage in a taut balancing act to keep everyone’s heads above water.

At least until we reached a doorway. Then the water had somewhere else to go, and we had a momentary reprieve to pull ourselves out, going up a few stairs.

I was the last out, but then realized I didn’t see Ragnar.

“Where’s Ragnar?” I asked.

“Here,” Ragnar said.

Looking up the stairs, I could see twelve eyes looking down at me.

Ragnar and the five little guys.

“You’re okay?” I asked.

“Peachy keen,” he said. “We were already going back to feed these guys. They won’t stop talking about how hungry they are.”

I wiped the water from my face, then said, “You can understand them?”

“Sure,” Ragnar said. “They won’t shut up.”

“Anyone else?” I asked.

Darius raised his hand.

“You?”

“Not right now, but I have heard them,” the big minotaur said.

“Is this the time to have this conversation?” one of the dwarves asked.

“Right,” I said, “good point.”

I stared at the virtual river pouring down a corridor at my feet.

“Where’s that go?” I asked the dwarves.

“Empty storerooms, your grace,” one of the bedraggled dwarves replied through a sopping wet beard. He reached up and patted his head. “Lost my helm.”

“I’m sure it’s somewhere down there,” I said. “We need to move fast on this. Ragnar, transfer the little guys to Darius and go find Mercy. Darius, you feed them, then get them settled in my quarters, I guess. And—“

“I’ll sleep there as well,” Darius finished, shaking some of the water off himself and taking the furry superweasels from Ragnar.

“I need Harmut here,” I said to the nearest dwarf. “Now, if possible.”

The first dwarf to try running slipped on the stairs, and I had to rescue him from the water, but the rest got to moving.

I took a few steps down the hall, balancing myself against the walls as the water tried to push me around.

It was already a few inches deep. I tried to get the door to close, but it felt like the wood was going to break before it would hold the water back.

The sheer amount of water shooting up the stairwell was absurd. We needed to find a way to shunt it off fast, before it got too high and drowned us all.

56

Harmut got to me first, when the water was past my knees in the hallway.

“What in Eirsíða’s name is happening?” Harmut bellowed.

“We seem to have sprung a leak,” I said, gesturing at the water.

“A leak? This is no leak, your grace—“

“Any idea on how to stop this?”

“Your grace, I — where does this leak start?”

“The worm tunnel. Appears to be flooded.”

“And it comes in here?”

“Well, it comes in there, and then, yeah, keeps coming. And coming.”

He stood a few steps above the roiling incoming water, and just shook his head.

“I, uh,” he stammered.

“You have to have plans to deal with water, right?” I asked.

“Aye,” he snapped back, “we do, but nothing to this level. We wouldna dug in somewhere with so much water. It’d be madness. Like tryin’ to dig into a river and stop the fucking river. How do ya stop a fuckin’ river?”

“A dam?”

“Clearly there is a dam somewhere up this new river, and Mountain’s fixing to be the reservoir.”

“That’s not great.”

“Glad we can agree on that, yer grace.”

“Oh dear,” Mercy said, coming around the corner and looking down.

“Don’t suppose you’ve got a surfeit of mana?” I asked.

“Not for something like that,” she replied. “That’s, that’s a lot of water.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, yer grace, but might be best if we started moving up. That floor is as good as gone.”

I nodded, and waded back against the current, having to pull myself through the doorway, and then move slowly up the stairs until I was out of the water. The current was insanely strong.

Slowly, unable to stop looking back, we went up the stairs.

“Is there,” I said, leaning against a wall on the landing, “I mean, there’s a river next to us — can we just dump into that?”

“Oh, aye,” Harmut said, “it’s more a problem of levels though.”

“Right,” Mercy said, pulling her long hair back into a tight ponytail, like she was getting ready to work. “The river next to Coggeshall is way above where we are now. If we tried to make a hole to shunt this, what, river? Into it, then that river would join this river in flooding Mountain Home.”

“Is there, I mean,” I started, “if we can get Essie to work some magic, can she make a stone wall to—“

“That’s a question beyond me, lad,” Harmut said. “I’m thinkin’ we have a home full of dwarves and kobolds, both known to be rather, um, excited by digging. I worry that there is no single stop point for this water. Not once it has made it through there.”

“What about making a wall under the water, stopping it there?”

“That is difficult magic,” Mercy said. “Essie would have to build the stone while the water was moving. I shudder to think of even attempting something like that.”

“Can you stop the water for—“

“Not this volume, and not for any real length of time. This, I mean, we are witnessing a literal river pouring in, and I cannot fathom where it came from. I know where the rivers are here, and the ones moving through this mountain are accounted for. This is, somehow, new.”

“An elemental portal?” Harmut asked, eyeing the water below, getting close to the top of the doorway. “Also, we might want to keep moving up.”

“The water isn’t pure,” Mercy replied.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Water from the elemental plane is basically perfect water. Nothing in it, but, well, water. This is river water. There are, I mean, things in it. And if someone had made a portal, I would be able to trace the water back there, but this is, I mean, it is a river. From somewhere nearby. I just...”

She trailed off, and we kept going up a few stairs at a time.

“What’s the next level?” I asked.

“In this stairwell?” Harmut asked. “More, uh, exploratory digging, mainly. Tunnels yet to have a defined purpose, your grace.”

“How far until the farms?”

“Fuck.”

“My worries exactly. I don’t even know what to do right now,” I said, quietly. My thoughts were jumbled, trying to come to grips with a thousand different things at once. How deep were the kobolds living? How deep were the dwarves? What would happen to the farms? “Okay, Harmut, go and get Timurlan roped in. He needs to know what’s coming. Mercy, you monitor this situation for a few minutes. I’m going to start evacuating the kobolds.”

“After Timurlan,” Harmut said, “if it please your grace, I would like to get those living down below the first floor to move above.”

“Yeah, everyone,” I said, already taking a step up. “And Mercy, it’s seriously going to move as soon as it fills that floor. Be ready — no, better idea, wait at the next door.”

She nodded, and we all started moving, the gurgling noise of the water an ominous backdrop.

57

Since it was the middle of the night, no one was exactly in the mood to wake up, let alone move. But luckily for me, there is something to be said for being revered and loved. Or feared.

As soon as the kobolds realized it was me making a racket, telling them all to get up and get above the first floor, they shot into action. I even got a few minutes of slapstick, of kobolds running into each other trying to get their things. But kobolds do move well, so in no time, I had them all setting up temporary kobold housing in the ballroom on the fourth floor. I figured that was high enough to keep them dry.

I sent a group of kobolds out to find and notify any kobolds who had been involved with exploratory digging projects that they might be wet soon, and headed back down the stairs to Mercy and our leak.

It wasn’t looking good.

Mainly because the water level seemed nearly unchanged, except for the fact that we had moved, say, twenty feet up in elevation.

“Don’t suppose it’s slowing down?” I asked.

Mercy shook her head. “No. It’s not.”

“There’s still the formerly secret lair of the Master, really deep in the mountain, right?”

She nodded, curious. “What about it?”

“Can we route the water there? Maybe buy us some time?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Any idea how much room is down there?”

“I’ve got a vague sense there’s some room down there. How much is beyond me.”

“I can steer the water a bit, but we’d need a channel of some kind to get it there.”

I let a shiver run across my body, feeling the wet and cold start to eat at me.

“Harmut would know where one is,” I said.

“What would I be knowin’?” Harmut asked as he tromped down the stairs. A number of other dwarves, plus Timurlan, followed him.

“I was,” I started, “or rather we were thinking we might have a way to store some of this water. There’s the master’s lair. That’s deeper than anywhere else, right?”

“Aye, your grace. Might could.”

“Where’s the shaft you dug?”

“Twenty yards that way,” he said, pointing into the wall.

“How long to dig there?”

“No time like the present to find out. Lads! Time to dig!”

The dwarves attacked the wall with wild abandon.

“Got an extra pick?” I asked.

“Beg pardon, your grace,” Mercy interrupted. “I think your skills would be better used speaking to Essie. See if she might have any abilities I forgot, something that could help. I will divert the water as I can, but some form of cap would be best. I doubt there is any time for a non-magical solution.”

I nodded and then sprinted back up the stairs.

58

It seemed like an awful shame to wake Essie up now that she finally was able to rest. And yet, I was not in the business of being overly nice. I needed shit done.

I did it gently though, giving her a bit of a shake.

She came up with a start and looked around, fear in her eyes. I assume still afraid she was in the cave surrounded by goblins.

“You’re safe here,” I said. “Still in Coggeshall.”

She took a breath and nodded.

“Can you cast a few spells?” I asked.

She sighed, and then took another breath, and sighed again.

“What?” I asked.

“I’m, I have, I—“ she stammered out a few false starts, then just shook her head again.

“We need you. I need you. There’s a really big issue, and you’re kind of our only solution.”

“I don’t know that I—“

“Can you cast spells?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t rightly know. I just, maybe, I mean, I was, sometimes I think there’s nothing wrong with me, but I’ve just been too afraid to go and do anything out there again.”

“I don’t need you to go out there. I need something done in here. And I get being afraid. I’ve definitely been afraid a lot of the time I’ve been here. But I’ll be here for you. I’ve got your back.”

She gave me a slight nod.

“You willing to get out of bed?” I asked. “See about doing a little something to help the holding today?”

“I could try,” she said softly.

I stood up and reached my hand out to her.

She grabbed it, her hand clammy and small in mine. Still, she started to pull and got herself up. A bit wobbly, but standing. She made it one step before her left leg gave out, and I had to catch her.

“Maybe I’ll just carry you for now,” I said.

She gave me a weak nod, and I swept her off her feet, doing my best to ignore that she was basically wearing just a sheet. And not really wearing it all the way.

We took a somewhat awkward walk down the stairs. Partially because carrying someone in the traditional post-wedding pose isn’t conducive to walking down stairs, but also because I felt like there were things left unsaid between the two of us, yet neither of us really wanted to talk. Finally though, I couldn’t take it.

“So the whole thing,” I started, “the being catatonic thing. Was that an act because you were afraid?”

She remained silent, but looked away.

“I mean, on the one hand, that sucks,” I said. “But on the other, I get it. It’s damned scary out there. I don’t know what you went through, but I can imagine it was terrible.”

“You have no idea,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Goblins are...”

She trailed off. I gave her a moment to continue, but it seemed that whatever she was about to say was more than she could handle. We continued in silence for a few minutes more. The sounds of mining echoed up to us.

“Look,” I finally said, “in the future, you can come talk to me. If you’re afraid, if you don’t want to do something, I’m not really deep into the idea of forcing people to do things. That’s not who I am, and that’s not what I want. I want people to be safe here. To feel good to be citizens of Coggeshall. We support each other, we save each other, we win as one.”

“That’s a lot of pithy statements jumbled together,” she said, just the barest hint of a smile on her face.

“I’m a pithy guy.”

She just rolled her eyes.

Now, were I totally honest, I’d probably have wanted to rip her a new one. She had the gall to lay in the hospital while people were actually injured because she was afraid to go back and face the goblins again? I had to swallow a big knot of rage. It wasn’t the best play in this situation by any metric.

I managed to keep my footing as I ran down the stairs with Essie, getting down to where Mercy and the dwarves were working.

“Time to work, Essie,” I said, putting her on her feet.

She nodded, while at the same time swept her sheet around her into more of an actual garment.

Mercy paused doing whatever bit of magic she was engaged with long enough to give Essie a hug, then went back to work.

The dwarves had made some progress digging out a channel, but I could tell they weren’t going to finish in time. The water level had gotten close to the top of the next doorway, and it was only a matter of time before another surge.

“What first?” Essie asked.

“Essie!” Harmut called out from the dwarven hole, the older leader pitching in.

“Channel through there,” I said.

“Make it blocks, lass,” Harmut said, pulling his workers to the side.

She nodded, closed her eyes, and reached her hands out for the wall. Her fingers moved as if she was pushing things around until she found what she liked. Then there was a pulse of power, and a soft cracking.

“Blocks,” she said, letting out a held breath. Her face was already pale, just from the one spell.

“You’re up, your grace,” Harmut said. “Best bet, time-wise, is pushing these into the hole.”

“Won’t that take up space?” I asked.

“Water’ll go around.”

I sighed, got my shoulder against the huge blocks of stone, and started to shove.

My feet slipped on the stone. There was just enough water splashing up to keep me from getting traction. Finally, I felt a little hook, a tiny piece of stone I could push off of, and the blocks, however many thousands of pounds of them, started to move.

The first ones fell with a cataclysmic boom.

Then the next row.

And another.

The thundering sounds continued on until I almost went over myself, stopping just in time to watch the last set of stone blocks tumble way down into the depths of the Master’s not-secret-any-more lair.

“Got a hole here,” I said.

“Get out of there,” Mercy snapped, and I could see her fairly vibrating as she worked on something.

I ran down the twenty-yard tunnel, jumping over a dwarf and vaulting Mercy.

Just as I did, she released the spell she’d held. The water suddenly surged forward, went a few stairs and found its new exit through the newly excavated tunnel down into a new hole.

“Okay,” I said, breathing hard and feeling a modicum of hope. “I’m pretty sure that buys us a little time.”

As I uttered the words and felt the hope, I caught a flicker of movement beneath the surface. I barely managed to eke out a curse word before something burst out of the water.

59

My impulse was to lean back out of the way of whatever had just launched itself out of the dark water, but doing so would leave Mercy and Essie completely exposed.

Instead, I put myself in front of everyone else, and got a gnashing set of teeth to my midsection.

I slammed my fist down on the head currently biting me. Its jaws released enough for me to grab the head of the creature and smash it against the wall, like an overripe melon.

* * *

GG! You’ve killed a Merglin (lvl 22 Ambusher).

You’ve earned 150 xp! What a mighty hero you are.

* * *

Merglin?

Another merglin was already coming at me. I caught the reflection of the glowstones above me in its bulbous eyes. Taking that half-second, I could see its resemblance to goblins: the wide mouth, the oversized head, my immediate desire to punch the shit out of them.

I hauled off and hit the oncoming merglin with a good right hook. The oversized head did not do well, going from my fist to the wall in record time, then sliming down the wall and dropping into the water.

Essie was shaking and pale.

I grabbed her, gently, by each arm, and got into her face so she could only see me.

“Cap that shaft,” I said, pointing down the new tunnel. “Then we’re going up a few stairs, and I’ll need you to cap this stairwell.”

She gave me a slight nod.

“I can handle anything that comes out of the water, got it?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Go,” I said, and gave her a little a push.

I turned around to see two merglins coming at once, while a third made a sneakier play for Mercy’s foot.

A quick stomp put an end to that play, with the bits of merglin smooshing out from under my boot.

One merglin managed to bite my fist, but I just used that hand to punch the wall, using the merglin glove to protect my knuckles.

The last merglin got plucked out of the air by a powerful blow from Harmut, whose perfect swing punctured the skull right at the top.

“You seen these before?” I asked.

“Never,” Harmut replied, using his foot to shove the corpse from his pick.

I had to peel teeth out of my arm to get my hand out of the merglin-glove — new favorite tongue-twister. I made sure there were no more ambushers coming, and took another look at these merglins.

Their bottom half ended in a tail, very much like a tadpole. They had strong muscles and relatively long arms ending in wicked-looking hooked claws, almost like raptor talons.

I threw the corpse into the water to join the others as they floated down the tunnel and fell down into the flooding lair below.

“Cap done,” Essie said. Then she threw up.

Mercy and Harmut helped Essie up the stairs while I acted as rear guard, but it didn’t seem like anything else was coming. I tried to use tremorsense, but the water was so turbulent it ruined any ability I had to feel vibrations.

After what felt like the longest five-minute break in history, plus one of Mercy’s mana potions, Essie gathered her arcane abilities together and made another stone cap in the stairwell.

The stairs now ran into a smooth stone floor, which looked remarkably absurd. Like something out of a cheesy haunted house.

* * *

Warning: Your followers now represent less than twenty-five percent of the total population in this holding. Unless the population level is brought above the minimum required percentage within seven days, your holding will lose a level and shrink. If your holding is already at a minimum level, your holding will cease to exist.

* * *

I managed to hold in my cursing, but I’m sure at least one of the dwarves noticed my eyes going wide and my feet trying to run before I had a place for them to go.

What the fuck did that mean? How had it happened? I mean, obviously there were limited possibilities: it could mean there was a massacre somewhere within MountainHome itself that we hadn’t noticed because of the flood, it could mean the army had just been completely destroyed, or it could mean a fuckload of entities had just entered my valley and upset the balance. Either way, I needed to get upstairs and find—

* * *

Warning: Another Entity has initiated a holding claim that overlaps the border of your holding. Only one holding is permitted in one geographical area; one holding must be destroyed.

* * *

Well, shit.

“Harmut,” I said, “you think there’s going to be other outlets for the water, right?”

He nodded.

“You, Essie, Mercy, and whoever you think might help, you all head around and plug the holes as you find them,” I said. “Biggest thing is—“

“Saving the farms,” Harmut finished for me.

“Exactly. Thank you, I have to, uh, I don’t know.”

I sprinted up the stairs.

60

There weren’t many people about, but there was a decided lack of death, which made a massacre in MountainHome highly unlikely. That left options two and three. I really wanted to have someone to chat with about this whole population balance thing before I ran off to try to solve the problem.

My chancellor was nowhere to be fucking found. Well, that was more my fault since I only knew one place to look for her, and that was her office. I had no idea where Clarissa actually lived.

I did, however, find Hugo at the end of the bar, and at the end of a bottle. He was in the midst of leading a rousing chorus of some rather risqué song extolling the virtues of swimming with bow-legged women. At the height of the song, he managed to fall off his stool. I left him there.

My head of farming, Timurlan, was sitting at a table with a few of Duke Ginsberg’s people, and they were laughing. Nearly everywhere I looked, I saw people having a good time. There was something comforting about seeing a full bar. People enjoying themselves meant, to me at least, that things, maybe, weren’t as bad as I’d feared. It confirmed for me, at the very least, there had not been a massacre of some kind within the walls of Coggeshall.

But considering the topic, I really only had one person I could reliably talk to about Coggeshall’s new population problem. Which is how I found myself knocking on Eliza Northwood’s door at what-fucking-time-is-it o’clock in the morning.

After a long moment of me standing in the hall and hoping someone was going to come, an irate woman glared at me while opening the door.

“Good morning, Priscilla” I said. “Might I—“

Priscilla frowned and closed the door.

I knocked again. Priscilla opened the door again.

“I would like to see Lady Northwoods please,” I said.

“I bet you would,” she replied, and promptly shut the door.

I knocked one more time, a little firmer.

“Your grace,” Priscilla snapped as she opened the door. “Do you have any idea the time?”

“Not in the slightest,” I said. “But I need—“

“I’m up, Priscilla,” I heard Eliza say between yawns. “Let him in.”

Priscilla shut the door again. I heard a terse conversation happen in semi-hushed tones. Not quite hushed enough to remain unnoticed, but hushed enough that I couldn’t make out the words. It wound up, however, that Eliza got her way, as she opened the door, and gave me a tired smile as she tried not to squint at the bright corridor.

“You might as well come in,” she said.

I gave her a curt nod and walked in.

“Why are you so wet?” she asked. “And do I want to know what foulness you bring into my home on your feet?”

I looked down and realized I had not thought through, well, much. I was tracking merglin guts around Coggeshall, leaving blackish-brownish-greenish streaks wherever I walked.

“You probably won’t like either answer,” I replied, “but suffice to say that we sprung a leak and there were some, um, ill-mannered fish type things who came to visit.”

“Fish?” she asked.

“Not quite fish.”

“What were they?”

“Kind of like fish goblins.”

“Like mer?”

“I don’t know what mer are, but I’m going on a wild guess that, yes, they are somewhat like mer.”

She frowned. “Is this important?”

“I mean, probably. But I’m not here to talk to you about that.”

“Oh? There is another reason you are in my rooms at this hour?”

“Actually, yes.”

She sat down on the couch and leaned back. I think trying to look alluring. It was somewhat ruined when I took a step and my boots made a horrible squishing noise, and left a wet bootprint on her carpet.

“Maybe I should remain standing,” I said.

“Maybe,” she replied.

“I got a notice that we, uh, that Coggeshall has dropped below the population threshold, and that we have seven days to get above it or we drop down a level.”

“To nothing.”

“Exactly. We return to being a non-holding.”

“That’s not the greatest, but I suppose—“

“Also—“

“There’s more?”

“Yeah. I got another notice that someone has attempted to set up a competing holding, which includes a portion of mine. So, uh, if we lose our hold, that one will subsume ours.”

“Ah.”

“That’s not, like, your father, is it?”

“No! You would suspect him of something like that?”

“I mean...”

She pretended to look horrified for a moment, then looked to the side, and tapped fingers on her leg a moment.

“I do not think it is in my father’s interest to attempt to take your holding, especially as he is trying to, um,” she stopped talking and reset, clearly realizing that she was about to say too much, “that he is engaged in other, um matters.”

“And which matters would that be?” I asked.

“Matters which certainly do not pertain to what you have come to my rooms to speak about. I would imagine this is the work of the night goblins.”

“That was definitely my initial thought. But I didn’t know if goblins could, you know, try and make holdings.”

“That would also mean they have brought forth an incredible number of beings loyal to them, if they were able to drop the Coggeshall percentage.”

“Either that or they killed a bunch of us.”

“If they destroyed Nathalie’s army, would that do it?”

“I don’t really know. I’d need to ask Clarissa. I think she has the firm numbers—“

“So you came to me first instead of—“

“I don’t know where she lives.”

Eliza gave me a dark look and a frown, making it quite clear that I’d said the exact wrong thing.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Eliza lied. “Continue.”

“I guess I’m trying to get your advice on the matter.”

“Which matter is that?”

“Uh, what you think caused the drop.”

“I think it is bad either way.”

“Okay, well—“

“If you are able to find your army—“

“I thought it was Nathalie’s army.”

“Your grace.”

“Sorry.”

“As I was saying, if you can find your army, the truth would become clear. And if there is a battle going on, and there is some measure of an army remaining, you might be able to save them.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“I didn’t think you were afraid of anything, your grace.”

“I have an assload of fears! Some of them I can manage.”

“The others?”

“I don’t. I’m sorry for waking you up, but thank you for the advice. I have to go.”

“Now?”

“I don’t think this is the sort of thing we can just let play out. Pretty sure I need to act now.”

She nodded.

“Picus’ blessing go with you,” she said, getting to her feet and carefully stepping around my wet, stinky footprints to open the door for me.

“Thank you,” I said, and hurried off.

61

I got suited up in my armor, thanks to my helping horde of prinkies. It didn’t feel quite as comfy as when Zoey and her crew dressed me, but it was serviceable. I did a quick inventory of what was in my knapsack to make sure I had plenty of weapons and a few healing potions, and then I had to explain to the furry little things why I was leaving. Darius told me to be quiet, and I carried the furry things over to the hammock and tucked them around the big minotaur. Who was not pleased. But the little furry superweasels loved it, making a sort of purring noise.

“You owe me for this,” Darius whispered.

“I know,” I said.

Then, I was off. Seemed to be an increasingly common occurrence for me. Take a minute to be in one place, then sprint to another.

I did stop off and let the Legion commander on duty, an intense young woman with her red hair tied back in one of the tightest buns I’d ever seen, that I had information our military was in trouble, and I was going to see if I could help. She made a few notes and gave me a few nods. And then, like before, I was off.

I went to visit my favorite monster, Fritz, in his ginormous house. It was cavernous, and also just barely big enough for him to turn around in.

“You awake, Fritz?” I asked. It was always the worst question to ask, because even if the person isn’t awake, they’re awakened by the question. But I was running out of time for politeness.

There was a soft squawk from the roc.

“Is that a yes?”

A giant wing snapped out and pushed me against the wall.

“Stop it,” I said, straining to move his stupidly large wing. “I need to know if you’re up to flying?”

Fritz’s eyes looked me up and down. Then he waddled out of his hangar-house. Outside, he stretched his wings wide, and held them there for a moment. There was a little hesitation, a bit of shakiness in the right wing, but he turned his head around to give a nod.

“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t an emergency,” I said. “And no one else. Just me.”

I got another nod, a more impatient one.

“Thanks, buddy,” I said, and started getting his harness on.

62

By the time I got out of Coggeshall, the sun was just up. It looked like we were going to have a rare bright day in the midst of what seemed like perpetual snow storms.

We went up into the air slowly as Fritz made sure he could put weight on his damaged body and wings. We definitely had to feel things out.

I relished the crisp air, but kept my mind focused on the present, scanning the sky for anything like one of those fucking bat riders.

Clear skies.

“Follow the road,” I shouted against the wind. “We need to find our army.”

Fritz gave a squawk of acknowledgement, dipped his wings, and changed our path just enough.

Below us was a winter wonderland. From this distance it was incredibly beautiful, like a white blanket across the whole world. But it made things challenging for us. The road was marginally visible directly in front of the gates, but as it went into the first line of trees, it almost disappeared. There was only the slightest dip in the snow over the road. Maybe some sort of residual heat or something kept the snow from piling up as high. Looking at things, I realized I needed to come up with some sort of snow-removal plan, even if it was just using a ton of prinkies to push the snow off the road for us.

Not something to worry about today, though. The sun was bright, and the sky was a powerfully deep blue. Not a single cloud in the sky — provided, of course, you completely ignored the west. Thick, low clouds peeked out from between the pass leading to the Emerald Sea, dark and foreboding. But that was for a later time.

Fritz angled out over the lake and started making lazy circles climbing up.

I leaned out to the side, as far as I was comfortable, trying to see why.

We’d already lost the road, more or less. Fritz must have been trying to get enough altitude to try to spot the army from up on high. Of course, being up higher was colder, and Fritz seemed to pump his wings harder and breathe harder because of it.

“Easy now, big guy,” I shouted.

Fritz shrieked something back. It made me miss when he could actually talk.

He leveled out, and we continued heading north.

After nearly an hour of flight, we saw what we were looking for.

Down below was evidence of the army’s camp, and not very far away, farther to the north only a few hundred yards, was the army itself, embroiled in what seemed to be a horrific melee with a goblin force that had to outnumber the Coggeshall military four or five to one.

We were high enough that the sound of the battle was muted.

“Drop me off,” I shouted. “Behind our forces. Then get out of here, find a spot to be safe. No fighting.”

Fritz made no noise to indicate he’d heard me, but he pulled his wings tight into a dive.

The wind tore at me, and I held tight to the harness.

At the last second, he flared his wings, and we came to a stop.

I hopped off and faced the giant bird.

“No fighting,” I said. “You need to heal.”

I got a dark look from the roc’s enormous eyes, but then Fritz gave me a curt nod. He jumped into the sky and soared off south.

63

I didn’t spend much time planning. I just pulled out a shield and sword and charged towards the fray.

There was no real order to the fighting; it was just an all-out fracas. I didn’t see any sort of command group, but I knew enough about group fighting to see if part of the line was going to give way.

Off to the left, I could see a bulge forming, where some part of the goblin attack was succeeding. I could see the men and women at the back glancing behind them, starting to wonder if it was time to run.

I sprinted that way. Just as the line faltered and a huge goblinoid creature stabbed his way through, I was there. I bashed the oversized goblin with my shield and cut his foot off at the ankle, my steel sword slicing through his white-green flesh with ease.

“Coggeshall!” I bellowed, activating my Rallying Cry ability as I pushed deeper into the goblins.

The troops nearest me regrouped, seemed to stand a little taller and get some of their color back, then launched into the fray. The goblins seemed to fall back, eyes going wide as they realized who was there.

Cries went up in the goblin horde, something I couldn’t quite understand, but the goblins were not staying to fight me.

I slashed left and right, cutting down retreating goblins.

The Coggeshall soldiers around me pushed forward hard, going in for kills, and they passed me by in a heartbeat.

“Whoa!” I shouted, thinking it might be better if they held off for a second and reformed the line.

A whistle blew a few times, and then I heard a bellow, “Form the line, you overzealous bastards. FORM THE LINE!”

I looked over my shoulder to see a remarkably angry looking older woman with an arrow sticking out of her helmet. She blew her whistle again, and that seemed to get through.

“Line here,” she said. “Prepare to receive the charge!”

She got the soldiers formed around me, and then grabbed my shoulder.

“Beggin’ your pardon, your grace,” she said. “Right side needs bolsterin’.”

“Yes ma’am,” I replied, and got out of her way.

I sprinted around to the right side and saw that the far end of the line was really spread out, with plenty of space for goblins, or other things, to come right through. For the moment though, it was a relative stasis.

Time to change that.

I tossed the shield and sword back in my bag and got an axe out. Then I got back to sprinting.

Faster and faster so that I hit the line at full speed, going right through our soldiers and past the goblins. Goblins who turned to watch me go and promptly got swords in the face for their effort from my troops.

I kept going, angling in toward the body of the goblin horde, now face to face with how deep their reserves were. They had goblins on goblins, fresh and waiting to throw themselves at us.

That simply wouldn’t do.

I vaulted a mound of dead bodies and got right behind their center line.

Cries of warning went up in goblin.

I just grinned and swung for the fences.

The axe went through four necks in the first blow, parting the crude iron armor as if it weren’t even there.

Blood erupted up.

I cut back the other way, slicing through legs, arms, and weapons, wading into the horde and cutting them down.

Fire ignited in my belly, the rage at what they had done to my kobolds burning forth, and I found barbaric yells erupting unbidden.

Left, right, left, right. The axe swung in grand arcs that didn’t seem to stop. No goblins even got close to me — at least, none alive. I became covered in goblin gore, and it seemed that death was happening so fast around me that a red mist formed in the area. The goblins held for maybe a minute before waves of fear seemed to overcome them. Whoever was exhorting them forward was overwhelmed by the goblin retreat.

The goblins ran for it, most throwing down weapons as they left in an attempt to go faster.

Our soldiers sent up a ragged cheer, some following to cut down the retreating horde as they could.

For good measure, I hauled off and threw the axe.

It tumbled end over end through the air before crashing into a large goblin and cutting the poor bastard in two.

“Nice,” I said, smiling.

64

I quickly wiped the blood off my face, and could see the goblins cruising into the distance. Sergeants hollered at their soldiers, still trying to chase down the enemy.

“Your presence is a surprise, your grace,” an armored figure said as they approached me. When the visor went up, I saw Nathalie’s face, not quite smiling, but not quite angry either.

“I got a strange notification,” I said, “and it seemed like I needed to see what was happening here.”

“You want to share the message?”

“It seems Coggeshall dropped below the minimum population requirements for a holding, so—”

“We have seen a lot of fighting,” she said, frowning, “but I would not have thought our losses so staggering.”

“How many have you lost?”

“More than I would like, but I lack a good number. We fought most every day. This is the second stand up battle. The first day, scouts came in contact with the enemy and we had a good skirmish. I think we pushed them out of being able to watch Coggeshall proper. Probably. There were some bats out that night, but we have been keeping our ranged troops in place at night, making sure we can take them down. I have yet to see anything flying during the day.”

“What else happened?”

“The second day we got ambushed by wolf and warg riders. It was a pitched battle that could have gone much worse The goblins only seemed interested in quick biting attacks, just charging and retreating. After we set a line and had shields ready, they could only harry us. As we pushed farther north, we had more interactions with the enemy, including some of the creatures you told me about, the florg. There have been swarms of them, and they are tenacious and dangerous if you allow them to get close, but they are also stupid. Easy to defeat if you detect them early.”

“My favorite kind of enemy.”

“The first stand up battle was a bit odd,” Nathalie continued. “We came to a clearing and the goblin forces were arrayed across the other side. Waiting for us. We formed our line, put the reserves around the baggage, and then we attacked. They tried to take our charge, but we rolled over them. Somewhat like what you did today. They took horrific damage and then pulled back. We followed up, and that’s when they counterattacked, coming from both sides. That was another tough fight, but we prevailed, and knew not to charge after when they retreated. That was yesterday. We recuperated, camped back there a ways, and the scouts woke me this morning reporting the arrival of another group of goblins. We formed our line, and before we could charge them, they charged us.”

“And then I showed up,” I said.

“Yes. I admit we were faltering some, but I feel we would have prevailed.”

I nodded and watched the other soldiers. The injured were being helped back to the camp, while others ate rations or chugged down grand gulps of water. Some leaned on shields, some on spears. No one looked fresh.

“Do you expect another fight today?” I asked.

She sighed and stared at the trees on the far side of the field, where the darkness most likely hid goblins even now.

“I would imagine there’s something planned,” she said. “With their numbers, they’d be fools to not just grind us down.”

“They are goblins. Can we just hope they’re fools?” I asked.

“Something else is happening here,” she said. “And, I mean—“

“What it is is not exactly clear?”

“I would imagine they have found a leader of some kind who has a grasp of strategy. I hesitate to ascribe some grander mystery taking place.”

“Have you seen this leader?”

“No.”

“Your scouts?”

“No reports of anything beyond goblins, florgs, a few slimes. There have been wolf riders in the forest, but only that one attack from them.”

I scratched my chin, really wishing I had a beard. It gave me something to help me think, and also did a halfway decent job of keeping the gore from my face. I scraped a bit of goblin out from under a fingernail. Going through all the little actions to give me some time for my brain to roll around.

“How far are we from Coggeshall?” I asked.

“I cannot say—“

“Can we get there today?”

Nathalie frowned and glanced at the troops.

“Yes, probably,” she concluded. “It would be hard marching, though, and I am not confident of how safe we would be on such a trip.”

“You think we’ll be attacked?” I asked.

“I would be more surprised if we made it home peacefully. You think there is reason to head home?”

“Thing is, I don’t know what’s going on out here. I don’t see what their game plan is, I mean, why are they hitting you with, I don’t know, half-measures.”

“I would imagine, your grace, it is because they can afford to wear us down, while we are, unfortunately, unable to reinforce ourselves.”

“Oh. That does make a measure of sense.”

She gave me the look where she was confident in my ignorance, but not willing to say anything out loud.

“So you want to stay in the field?” I asked.

She sighed, and then pulled her helm off. She passed it to a young man who’d been standing discretely to her side. He also took her gauntlets.

“No,” she said. “We gain little being out here. Better to wither their attacks from the walls. Let them spend their resources attacking us there. Provided, of course, you feel similar.”

“I do,” I said.

“I will get the army on the move back to Coggeshall, your grace. Will you be accompanying us?”

I nodded.

“Good,” she said. “I feel as if we might need your sword to get home in one piece.”

65

The army took much longer to get moving than I’d have liked. Mostly it was because of all the snow being a pain in the ass. I started summoning prinkies to help out, an entire horde to clear snow off the road. They did a great job of it, swarming about the snow and pushing it to the sides with wild abandon.

Somewhere around an hour later, we marched south. All our horses were engaged in carrying the wounded. Our dead, however, were burned. No room to bring them, but we couldn’t leave them to be food for the remaining goblins. I wasn’t particularly happy with having to do it, but it seemed the only way.

As we left, I could see things moving in the tree line, and I wished I had a telescope. Or someone really fast. Or a small bird, something that could go and tell me what I saw.

But yeah. Pretty damn sure they were goblins.

The army moved at a decent clip for the first part of the morning, at least until we caught up with the prinky snow removal team. Nathalie decided that would be a good break point, and the whole army lurched to a halt. The prinkies, however, kept up with their feverish pace. I summoned more and got them to work on the road as well. It seemed like they might actually keep ahead of the marching army.

While we sat there, a young man dressed all in white came darting from the trees, heading straight for Nathalie. He spoke with her for a moment, and then disappeared back into the woods.

Nathalie ordered the army back on its feet and moving, but came back to me.

“There are wolf-riders pacing us to the west,” she said.

“You want me to go out there?” I asked, opening my bag to grab a weapon.

She put her hand on my arm to stop me. “I wanted you to know where the attack might come from. I would prefer you walk on the western edge, maybe towards the back. Protect that flank. If you go out now, I fear they would merely bypass you to attack us.”

“I’m the deterrent.”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Works for me,” I said, giving her my best winning smile.

She rolled her eyes at me and hurried to get back nearer the front.

I let the column pass me by, smiling at all the soldiers as they went, until I was close to the end. Then I rejoined the group.

It was a little like being on a hike, at least for me. Not a good hike, especially not at the back where there was all the grossness associated with a huge group of people who’d been out camping and not showering. A cloud of stink followed the group, and, every once in a while, I had to help one of the injured get onto a horse or into a wagon.

There wasn’t a whole lot to see on the way — just trees and snow. When we curved around the lake, we could see the vast flatness that was the lake, but even that was covered in snow now. But across it, far in the distance, likely near the other shore, things were moving.

White things that were, judging against the trees, somewhere in the neighborhood of six feet tall and either covered with long white fur or wearing something like a big white cloak. Bit hard to tell from where we were.

But watching them, something felt off. They weren’t moving quite right. The snow didn’t seem to impede them at all.And not like they were just using snowshoes — it was something different, like they were moving through the snow without actually disturbing the snow. Like the snow wasn’t there. If they’d been hovering right above the snow, that’d be one thing, but this was lower down, just enough that in some drifts it looked like they were moving—

“It’s an illusion,” I said to the soldier I walked next to.

He looked at me, confused. I pointed east, across the lake.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Pass it up the line,” I said. “Expect an attack from the west.”

He nodded, and ran a few steps to tell someone, who then ran and told someone. In a minute the warning spread, just in time for the wolf-riders to come out of the trees to the west.

66

The wolves were snarling nasty creatures, not at all like wolves from Earth. They had giant tufts of fur mingled with dark skin, snarly teeth that filled huge mouths with lolling tongues and long drips of saliva hanging out, almost like they were rabid. The small goblins hung onto their backs, with colossal heads, pointy ears, and equally frothy, slavering mouths that somehow held more disgusting teeth than their mounts. The riders waved about rudimentary arms and wore crude armor, almost like they were mocking the look of a knight. Spread out through the mounted wave were larger creatures that looked akin to wolves, but worse.

They had to be wargs.

I pulled out a spear, deciding that some extra reach would be wise.

I fully expected the wolf-riders to smash into our column of marchers and wreak havoc, but two things worked in our favor. First, the Coggeshall military was already wary and reacted fast to form up. And second, the prinkies, in their snow-clearing fervor, had left berms of snow on either side of the road, and neither the wolves nor their riders expected any sort of obstacle.

The first few wolves jumped over the berm. A few of them cleared it with a graceful leap and landing, but far more overcompensated. They landed hard, some hard enough that they splayed onto the ground.

I charged at the nearest wolf-riders, howling a primal bellow because that felt right, and stabbed my spear through three goblins.

Leaving my goblin-kebab behind, I snatched a crude curved sword from a dying goblin hand and cut the wolves out from under another group of goblins. I whirled through, dodging wolf bites and goblin stabs. And, let’s be real, plenty of goblin bites as well. But after a wolf got a lucky bite and his teeth just scraped along my armor, I realized I didn’t need to do so much dancing. I could take the hits.

Then I planted my feet and started cutting. Blood flew around me, causing another red mist to hang in the air for a moment. All sorts of nastiness steamed up from the stacks of bloodied corpses forming around me.

A heartbeat later, the rest of the Coggeshall military crashed forward into the wolves, who still working to get their shit back together.

It was more a massacre than a fight. The wolf-riders seemed perfectly suited to quick attacks, and anything that kept them in place presented a real issue. In a stand-up scrabble, they were easy targets. After barely five minutes of combat, a quarter of the goblin wolf-riders sped away, leaving the rest of their brethren dead or dying.

It took longer to move around our wounded and get the column of Coggeshallians moving.

A young woman with a spear worked her way through all the goblins and wolves, killing any that were still moving. I thought, for a moment, that maybe we should have tried to save the wolves, but as I marched by and gave them a good looking-over, I saw that these things were barely wolves anymore. They were monsters twisted by the goblins for their own purposes.

I had to wonder what else the goblins had twisted in their dark caverns.

67

At midday we paused, and the order came down the line for the soldiers to consume their remaining rations.

That gave a bit of a morale boost, and most everyone opened up wax-paper-wrapped food and scarfed it down. I did a little mental inventory of what I had in my bag, and reached in for some dried meats, really hoping I’d left some inside the unfillable knapsack.

Nothing.

So I reached into the magic pizza sack and took out a slice. The perfect Detroit-style pizza steamed in the air.

The soldiers all around me stopped with mouths open to see my magically hot food.

“Uh,” I said, “anyone want a slice?”

What followed was an attempt to test the limits of the pizza sack. I reached in, grabbed a slice, passed it to a soldier, and repeated. Over and over again, until it seemed like every soldier in the group had a steamy slice of pizza. The pizza sack passed the test. And I had two pieces. And also a solid bellyful of root beer.

I saw scouts report to Nathalie, and she nodded a few times, but didn’t make any other orders that reached me.

We spent a few minutes just standing around, letting the prinkies get ahead of us, and then it was time to march again.

Soldiers grumbled, but no one seemed overly eager to spend any more time outside the walls if they could help it.

I remembered the things in white, and shot a look to the east, but they were gone.

Illusions, I thought. Something to pull our attention away. Which meant there was a magic-user nearby.

I hurried in a half-jog up to Nathalie.

“Your grace?” she asked, stopping her march.

“Magic user,” I said quickly.

“I am aware, but I am guessing we are currently being watched. It might be best if I do not clarify further.”

“Okay,” I said. “Should I—“

“I would appreciate your continued presence towards the rear.”

She resumed the march, and I stood there to let the column pass me by until I found my place.

The afternoon was as boring as marching could be. The weather started to turn, with dark clouds blocking out the sun and then just sort of hanging around being menacing. Snow flurries began falling mid-afternoon, right around the time we took another five-minute break.

The two healers on the trip worked frantically the entire time, doing their best to stabilize the very hurt and manage the mild injuries to keep the only kinda hurt on their feet and moving. But even with that, there was a growing ebullience among the army — as we got closer to Coggeshall, the mood just improved.

At least, you know, until we heard the sounds of battle coming from the south.

68

We were very close to Coggeshall, maybe half a mile or so. The noise of battle was unmistakable. The cries of pain, the slam of metal on metal — you know, sounds of war.

The army came to an uneven halt, and word came down for me to come speak to Nathalie. I definitely had a momentary thought that since I was the duke, she should come to me, but I decided to let it go. This was her show and I should let her run it. Which means I sprinted up to her.

“Scouts report there is a battle ongoing at Coggeshall,” Nathalie said as I arrived. She had a few others arrayed in front of her, with a crude drawing of Coggeshall scratched in the snow in front of her. “It seems sizable, but probably not as big as either of the forces we encountered on our short campaign. I know everyone is tired, but we have an opportunity to crush the goblin forces between us and the wall. We need to form up behind the cover of the trees here, and then charge.”

“General,” a woman said, “our soldiers do not have the energy left for a charge, certainly not a charge across an open field that big.”

Nathalie frowned and clenched her metal fist.

“Maybe,” I said, “we form a longer line than normal, and then march forward.”

“The goblins will retreat,” Nathalie said. “We must charge, else we lose whatever advantage we have.”

“The advantage—” the woman started to disagree again, but Nathalie cut her off with a dark look.

“Prepare for a charge,” Nathalie snapped. “That is my order.”

She slammed down the visor on her helm and strode away.

I saw the glances bouncing between who I assumed were the other commanders there — they disagreed. And none of them wanted to speak up about things. Soon, though, all the eyes rested on me.

“What?” I asked.

“You can overrule her,” the woman said.

“She’s in command out here,” I replied. Not exactly the bravest thing I’ve ever said, but I felt like, maybe, she was a bit like the captain of the ship. And we were on the ship, so she should be in charge. “And she has a point.”

“Our advantage is not surprise,” the woman said. “It is having them trapped against the wall. We gain very little by charging and lose an enormous amount by being winded when we reach the point of contact.”

“Indeed,” a man said, “there is more going on here. The goblins have been ahead of us at every point. Thinking this is just us getting lucky is foolish. There—”

“These are goblins,” the woman said. “It only appears they know what they are doing because of their sheer numbers. They probably thought they’d be able to breach Coggeshall walls before we returned, that we had no one left manning the walls once the duke was gone.”

“But knowing the duke was gone means they’ve been watching Coggeshall,” the man countered.

“Or they’ve got a means of quick communication,” I said. “Might have seen me fighting with y’all this morning, and they decided to mount an attack on Coggeshall because of that?”

“Possible,” the man said with a slight nod.

The woman shook her head. “I doubt something like that is going on. These are goblins. We must not forget that. Regardless, our soldiers are tired—“

Nathalie walked back into range, and everyone shut up. She flipped her visor up.

“Why are you still debating this?” she asked. “Was my order unclear? Prepare the charge.”

“I think,” I said, “that maybe you need to look at the state of the troops.”

She glared at me.

“Your grace,” she said. “You put me in charge of your military. Would you like to rescind my position?”

“No, I’m just—“

“Duke Coggeshall, that is what you are doing by countermanding my order.”

“I didn’t countermand shit, Nathalie Glaton. I’m telling you to consider your troops before you make them sprint five hundred yards to fight a bunch of fucking goblins, okay?”

For a moment we stared at each other. Eye to eye to eye to eye. Something along the lines of a battle of wills. I just stood my ground, though. I knew what I’d said was right, and that she needed a minute to think. She was running on empty; that much was clear. She looked as exhausted as everyone else. And it certainly seemed, from my limited view of her tactics, that she had basically none. She had ‘form a battle line or shield wall,’ and ‘charge.’

Nathalie gave me a curt nod and strode away.

“Thank you,” the nameless female commander mouthed to me, and went to attend to her troops.

A few minutes later, and the order came that we were going to form a battle line (of course), and approach the walls at a measured, even pace. That we would hold our line when the expected goblin charge came, and would do our best to prevent any goblin escape. The main goal was getting back into Coggeshall with minimum casualties.

Those weren’t my orders, of course. I didn’t really have orders.

Nathalie came over, riding a horse this time, a horse that seemed surprisingly fresh.

“If it please your grace,” she said, “I would have you remain in reserve, to hold the line where it might be in danger.”

“Of course,” I said.

She gave me a curt nod, then rode away.

I got out a sword and shield, did a little warming up, swishing my sword through the air at imaginary opponents, and stretched. I didn’t expect to get into much of the fighting, but man would it be embarrassing to pull a hammy in the midst of trying to slaughter the goblinoid horde.

69

We formed up along the road, spreading out through the trees to the east so that we had a nice long line. Nothing super deep, just two deep along the wings and three deep in the center.

The army strode forward, marching as best they could together. Those in the woods had a harder time of it, maneuvering around trees, over trees, and through tree-related debris. Basically, the trees were an enormous pain in the ass. But that made me happy we had them to hamper enemy forces, even if it was currently hampering us.

At the edge of the forest, right where the clear cutting ended and the open field began, the army halted.

Ahead of us, at the walls, a force of goblins swarmed around the main gate. There were also other attempts being made to breach the walls, and clumps of legionnaires fought them back.

When I looked along the road, I saw a massive explosion of glitter across the snow, right where the snow resumed covering the road. Depressing.

“Forward!” roared Nathalie.

The army began a resolute march to the wall.

We watched a moment of dawning realization as the goblin assault became aware of our approach. Then a kind of quiet fell, as the goblins weren’t really sure what they should do. They looked from the wall to us, and then back to the wall.

We didn’t stop. We just marched on.

Well, the soldiers marched on. I followed at a more discrete distance, waiting to see where I might be needed.

Half the goblins seemed to redouble their efforts against the gate and the walls, as if they might find solace behind the Coggeshall walls. The other half turned toward us, readying themselves. They yelled and screamed at us, waving swords and rattling the goblin equivalent of sabers.

On we marched, closer and closer. The goblins caught in the middle began to get frantic.

Then one of our dumb soldiers lost his mind and charged. Which caused a ripple effect, as men and women charged to attack the goblins, crossing the last forty yards or so at full speed.

It took a heartbeat before the goblins counter-charged.

A great crash rang out as the two sides met. But humans are, on average, much bigger than goblins, so in a straight-up fight like this one, the goblins were not going to win. And since a goodly chunk of the goblin forces were still assaulting the walls, it had all the markers of being a steamroll. Probably the reason none of our officers, or commanders or whatever they called themselves, tried to stop the charge.

I stood and watched, looking for a spot I needed to intercede. But for that moment, it appeared the army had everything in hand. Nathalie, still on her big horse, trotted over and stood next to me.

“You were correct,” she said, “a long charge would have been disastrous.”

“One of your officers made a good case,” I said. “I just—“

“I am grateful for your intercession. But in the future, I would appreciate you addressing such concerns to me in private.”

“Sure,” I said.

Watching the soldiers squish the goblins against our walls, I found myself almost relaxed. I understood that we were in the midst of battle, but we were doing so well, and it seemed like it would take some sort of miracle on the goblins’ behalf for me to have to actually get my sword bloodied. I was so comfortable I almost didn’t notice the legionnaires on the wall waving their hands and signalling wildly.

“What do you think that is?” I asked, pointing at the wall.

Nathalie flipped her visor up, and leaned forward in the saddle and squinted, as if that mild change in position might suddenly offer her the clarity needed to know.

“Maybe they are excited?” she asked.

“They’re obviously excited,” I said, glancing around, “but why?”

I finally turned all the way around, and my heart sank.

“Oh,” I said.

Nathalie looked over her shoulder, too. “Fuck.”

70

A horde of night goblins had spread out from the road. Flags and spears wove back and forth like a veritable forest spreading as far as I could see. And unlike any of the armies we’d gone up against, these weren’t just goblins. There were thousands of goblins, sure, but there were also plenty of other things mixed in. Things that made me incredibly anxious about what the fuck we were going to do.

Right in front, a squad of huge goblinoids stomped along, seven or eight feet tall at least. They had massive heads with huge jaws and tusk-like teeth, yellowing and gross. They wore very simple clothes, no boots or shoes, and dragged clubs and crude weapons behind them.

Wolf riders moved along the flanks, charging in an eerie silence until they all howled at once.

Deeper in the group, taller creatures popped up here and there. Large bipedal humanoids with metal collars and heavy metal chains. They had to be fifteen or twenty feet tall, and almost as broad. They had pale skin, very little hair, and heavy layers of fat over massive bulges of muscle.

The goblins had engines of war, being pulled by creatures I could only describe as caterpillars, if caterpillars were designed by a scorned god. They were hideous, with lots of fur coming off their backs, big bulging red eyes and huge antennae. Something like mini goblins rode them.

That was just what I could see in the first few seconds of watching the night goblin horde approach. Our wounded and our wagons raced towards us, desperately fleeing the enemies behind them. Even the shortest glance told me that plenty of injured had been unable to get away from the goblin horde fast enough.

“Get everyone through the gates,” Nathalie said, getting her horse turned around. “I will hold them.”

“You’re going to hold that?” I asked.

She slammed her visor down and held her fist up. Blue whisps and runes flared around her fist, then spun into a very tight line that looked like a lance.

“I will hold them,” she said again, and kicked hard at the side of her horse.

The horse leapt forward, seemingly fearless, and charged toward the oncoming horde.

I wanted to watch. Well, ‘want’ wasn’t really the right word. It was more like the desire to see a traffic accident you know is coming, but it’d be a complete dick move to let her sacrifice mean nothing. So instead, I turned and sprinted for the gate.

It seemed Captain Czubakowski had his own plan. Just then the recently hung wooden doors opened wide, and goblins tried to storm inside. But instead, a shield wall pushed them back. A shield wall that just kept pushing and pushing until their efforts created a path.

“Into the city!” I yelled as loud as I could, already running.

The various Coggeshall soldiers started peeling off their attacks and head to the gates. The goblins pushed their advantage on the flank, but that’s where I’d aimed my own charge, and I slammed into the ranks.

I cut down the first few goblins. It was slaughter time. I waded through the goblin corpses, slicing and dicing, and the goblins fled.

More and more of my troops made it to the gates, including the injured group on the wagons, and more and more of the goblins fled to join the oncoming horde.

I paused my onslaught and looked back to Nathalie.

She was somehow holding her own against the horde. She charged in, speared some poor bastard, and galloped away. Her lance got a little dimmer with each attack, but she seemed invulnerable. Her mastery over her horse was breathtaking, the two of them working in perfect harmony. More and more of the large brutes in the front line charged after her, but that only made them easy targets for Nathalie.

Finally, her lance winked out of existence, but without pausing, she pulled her sword out, still moving, still weaving between the oncoming goblins, cutting to the left and the right with nearly equal ease. Heads, limbs, and other bodily bits came off with each fall of her arm. I could finally see the Nathalie who’d been an absolute champion in the arena. I smiled, proud of my commander.

But as the last of our troops limped inside, disaster struck.

Nathalie’s horse either tripped or was tripped. Horse and rider went down.

The goblin brutes pounced.

71

Before I knew what I was doing, I sprinted toward her.

Blows rained down on her from the various brutes crowding around her. I heard the death cry of the poor horse, and I told my stupid legs to go faster. I swore to the gods I knew that I’d put more points into agility or dexterity or whatever I needed to move faster if they would just help me now. Maybe it helped; I don’t know.

I hit the brutes at full speed, throwing myself at the largest one and hip-checking him right out of the way. The brute stumbled and fell into the snow.

With my legs spread over Nathalie, I held a high guard pose for half a second as the goblin brutes got their shit together. Then I lashed out, the tip of my sword slicing through the eyes and nose of one of them.

He made a weird noise that made some of the other brutes step back.

I threw the sword hard, and it sunk right through the forehead of the largest of the pack. He tipped over backwards, dead.

I used their momentary distraction to scoop Nathalie up. I got her over my shoulder and sprinted for Coggeshall.

I barely outpaced the brutes. They recovered quickly and beat feet in my direction, their steps thundering right behind me.

To the side, I noticed the wolf-riders angling in my direction.

The race was on.

My feet pounded against the ground.

The brutes managed to keep up for a short time, but pretty quickly I could hear them breathing hard. Their thuds started to drop off.

Any morale boost that gave me drained away when I saw the wolf-riders coming in hot from the side, their wolf jaws open wide, and streams of saliva whipping back along their flanks. No way could I outrun wolves in the best scenario, especially not when I was in full armor carrying someone else in full armor, who was busy dripping blood all over me. Still, I had no choice. I just doubled down and keep my legs pumping.

The skies opened up and lightning shot down amongst the wolves, sending bright sparks leaping from wolf to goblin to wolf, and so-on. Wolves froze in spasm, goblins shrieked. The lightning pounded the ground, and thunder boomed out so loud I could feel my teeth rattle.

I kept running.

The wolves did not. The mass lightning disrupted them enough that not one of them thought continuing the chase would be worth it.

As I ran through the gates, they closed behind me.

I kept running until I saw a healer, and I passed off my charge to her.

Bending down, I took in great lungfuls of air, feeling a sense of safety settle on me like a cozy blankie.

Boy, was that the wrong feeling.

72

“Archers!” Someone bellowed out. “Get to the walls. Mancers, make sure someone is on watch at the gatehouse!”

A strange flurry of activity had taken over Coggeshall’s interior courtyard. I’d gotten used to it being basically empty, since nearly everyone lived inside of MountainHome. Now though, tents were set up everywhere. Most of them seemed to be for healing, although one was being used to cook and serve food. Legionnaires were everywhere — plenty on the walls, but others in groups. Everyone looked ready for battle, but also in a state of mild rest. I saw lots of shields leaning against spears.

Alexander was off to one side, the good captain in full regalia, looking very serious as he walked over to me.

“Your grace,” he said, taking off his helmet and giving what I took to be an imperial salute with his right fist slamming onto his breastplate.

“Can I get a report?” I asked.

“Not too much I can tell you about the interior activities,” he said. “Out here, we saw a company size group of goblins organize around mid-afternoon. They attempted several sorties against the walls, testing our responses to various, well, siege strategies, I suppose. They tried ladders, digging, and then a brute assault on the gate. None of which was hard to defend. We had been letting them beat on the walls because I saw no need to put my soldiers at risk. Minimal losses on our part, for heavy losses on theirs.”

“That doesn’t seem to bother them.”

“They do have a rather substantial numbers advantage, your grace.”

“You think? Were anything other than goblins attacking?”

“Such as?”

“Bigger goblins, bat riders, wolf-riders, slimes—“

“Nothing like that,” he said.

“You see what we’re facing now?”

“I have taken a look, yes.”

“You recognize any of that?”

“Might I suggest we take a higher position?” He asked, pointing to the balcony above.

“Sure,” I said.

Five minutes of quick marching through MountainHome, and we were on the balcony. We found Clarissa on the way. She wore a hauberk of chain that did not fit her at all, but I appreciated that she was willing to brave the battle. Eliza and Duke Ginsburg were there as well, the duke clutching a nearly overflowing goblet of wine in one hand.

Everything got much worse from up high. There had to be thousands upon thousands of creatures. Smoke tendrils dotted the darkening skies, evidence of the countless campfires they had. Now that the enemy was actually setting lines instead of quick-marching to capture us — my best guess for what they’d been doing — I could see the breadth of what we faced. The sheer diversity of creatures was astounding.

Obviously, there were goblins aplenty. More goblins than anything else. But there were also the big brute goblin things and tiny miniature goblin things. Enormous things being led around by groups of the tiny goblin things. There were herds of the florgs being driven into pens. And far more things I couldn’t see well enough to even guess what they might be.

Bat riders launched into the sky.

Trees had been cut down by the hundreds. The goblin horde seemed to just straight up clear-cut as far as we could see, in the space of an evening.

“This doesn’t look great,” I said.

“I have seen worse,” Duke Ginsburg said with confidence.

“Well, that’s good,” I said. “Glad to know it can deteriorate further.”

“I have fought goblins before,” Captain Czubakowski said, “But I have never seen them this disciplined or organized. They have been very clever so far, and I fear we only know the half of what they’re capable of.”

“See, that’s how it gets worse,” I said.

“A good charge, and those greenskins will scatter,“ Ginsburg stated, but I gave him a dark look to shut him up.

“Who is going to do the charging?” I asked.

“Perhaps we could request an additional legion.”

“Now why didn’t I think of that?”

“You are new to this, duke—“

“There’s no way to contact the outside right now,” I said. “The tunnel is blocked, so we can’t get a courier out.”

“Fly on that majestic bird of yours.”

“When he shows up again, I’ll consider it.”

“Your vaunted monstrous ally left in your hour of need? How telling—“

“He’s hurt! I told him to find a safe spot to heal.”

“Ah, so you are to blame—”

“Just, you know,” I said, really wanting to punch him in his stupid face, “maybe give me a minute here.”

“Right, strategy. Good idea to start using—”

“Your grace,” I said sharply.

Eliza put a hand on Ginsburg and steered him away.

I gave her a nod, which she returned.

“Clarissa,” I said, “what’s happening inside MountainHome?”

“I assume you mean the water situation,” she said, pulling out a notebook and giving it a glance. “It has become something of a game, wherein we find a leak and fix it, only to find that another source of water has sprung up in the mean time. The farm levels have, so far, been kept dry. Harmut says we have lost three levels of storage, including nearly half our grain and all extra furniture.”

“Fantastic.”

“He insists there will be no further damage done to MountainHome. By the water, at least.”

We heard a loud kap-thwang from below. A ballista fired a huge bolt into the air. I watched the ten-foot bolt slam into a bat, going all the way through the giant creature into the goblin rider. They both tumbled down and thudded to the ground outside our walls.

“Nice shot,” I said absently.

“We are reasonably stocked with ammunition,” Czubakowski said. “I believe we can hold the walls for quite some time, even against what I hate to admit is an impressive army. It’s just... I cannot fathom this has been the work of goblins. Even night goblins. What, I mean, how have they done this?”

“Maybe they didn’t. Could be they had help.”

“Who? What? Who would want to work with night goblins?”

“Other goblins? What about hobgoblins?”

“Then we would see Hobgoblins in the formation below. And they would have sent an emissary to discuss terms of the war. And they very rarely form armies that are not wholly hobgoblins. They are very particular creatures. At least, they have been in our dealings with them in the past. I suppose it’s entirely possible they have—“

“Let’s Occam’s razor this,” I said.

“Is that a spell?”

“It’s the idea that the simplest answer is the right one. So, you know, thinking that hobgoblins somehow changed their fundamental nature is complicated. Thinking something else is helping them? More likely.”

“But what?”

“Can we, I mean, there’s got to be some sort of command tent in that mess, right?”

“Stands to reason.”

“What are the chances we could get a scout or spy in there?”

“Zero.”

“Maybe I just have to fight my way through—“

“I admire your confidence in your martial abilities, your grace, but I fear you underestimate what is waiting out there for you. You might be able to take one of those ogres, but if they unleash them all at once, even the Hero of Osterstadt would be hard-pressed. I imagine they would prove nearly your equal in strength, and they do little else but fight. Though they look, well, simple, they are fierce combatants. And I imagine you would be forced to fight in a hail of arrows, spells, and other nasty things the goblins, or their masters, have cooked up.”

“Okay, good safety tip. Any—“

Just then a dark shape fell from above, followed quickly by a scream to my left as something attacked Clarissa.

73

I grabbed the shape and pulled it toward the light.

A lizard.

But then something stabbed into my throat, and I saw the bright red beady eyes of a night goblin, who was sitting on the back of the lizard.

The goblin wrenched his short sword free, and my blood spurt out. My HP bar disappeared fast.

I had to act, so I wrenched the lizard around hard, pushing it to the ground with my knees and getting both my arms around its neck. I pulled hard as I did a quick bridge pose, ripping the lizard’s head off.

A lovely little bonus blip to my health.

I stomped on the goblin, and his stupid head exploded under my sabaton.

More health!

Standing, I threw the lizard head at the next shape dropping from above.

“Inside,” someone shouted. At the same time, guards tried to come outside, causing a brilliant fucking traffic jam at the doors.

I got my hand to my neck and held the wound as closed as I could, trying not to swallow too much blood.

I saw more shapes drop down. Alexander had his sword out and was fighting back two lizard-mounted goblins. The lizards tried to bite and scratch while the goblins poked at the captain with wicked-looking spears. Clarissa was down, having taken the first hit from the lizard I’d killed, but I couldn’t tell if she was dead or just injured. Thing was, she wasn’t moving.

Given the lack of room, I snatched a short sword from my knapsack and lunged out, stabbing through the nearest goblin face as a lizard mount bit at me. Its teeth scratched across my metal breastplate, and I brought the pommel of the sword down hard on the stupid lizard’s head hard enough to leave a hole in its skull.

Two more blips of health. I figured if I killed fast enough, I might heal my slit throat on my own.

After a quick step to the side to dodge a goblin spear, I had another lizard trying to bite my leg. They were everywhere, swarming the balcony faster than Alexander or I could fight them back.

Still, being encased in steel and mithril, there was a measure of invulnerability, and despite being swarmed, I could do a decent job of killing them. Blood and guts flew in equal measure from my savage attack, which really started to give me some healing action, in the most grotesque way possible.

Alexander jabbed his blade in front of my face, blocking a blow meant for my eye.

I snatched his wrist and yanked him out of the way of another spear, then sliced in a gloriously wide upswing to cut through the top of the lizard’s jaw and into the rider’s head.

My sword stuck, so I let go immediately and pulled the spear out of the dead goblin’s hand.

I whipped the butt of the thin spear around, hitting another goblin.

A hand was on my gorget, and it pulled me back.

“This way, your grace,” Alexander yelled, guiding me while I parried the oncoming thrusts, whacking the offending weapons away as fast as I could.

The traffic jam around the door finally alleviated, and a quick flood of guards burst onto the balcony, fighting back the seemingly ceaseless tide of night goblins.

I stumbled into the ballroom, blood still pouring out the hole in my throat, dropping to my knees as the edges of my vision went a bit dark. I crawled along, ignoring the world around me, trying to put distance between myself and the fighting, doing my utmost to get out of combat as defined by the game world.

Finally, I saw my HP start ticking back up, and I felt the scores of small wounds around my face and neck healing.

I pushed myself up and got to standing. It was just me and Alexander inside the ballroom.

He laid on the ground, definitely looking the worse for wear. Blood seeped from lots of lacerations and punctures all around his body. He hadn’t had the same sort of armor as me, wearing more ornamental stuff befitting someone who is in command, someone behind the lines.

I snatched a healing potion from my knapsack, popped the cork off with my thumb and jammed it into the captain’s mouth.

He drank it down quickly, deeply, and closed his eyes. I could almost hear his teeth grit as the pain from everything healing at once hit him.

“Check... outside...” he managed to eke out.

I gave his shoulder a gentle pat. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I... know...”

I hid my grin and stepped over to the window.

The guards outside still fought the lizard riders. I knew I needed to get guards on the other balconies and entrances to MountainHome.

But before I could act, I heard a strange noise. Like something fluttering in high wind.

I opened the door to the balcony. Between the clangs of metal and the cries of pain, there was the noise again, growing louder as I stood there.

“What the fu—“ I managed to get out right before the largest red slime I’d ever seen hit the balcony. And, by virtue of it being a gelatinous form, also the wall. And me.

The slime jiggled and reverberated from the hit, and its ripples managed to grab hold of my head, pulling me into its disgusting mass. The guards, in the midst of combat, were similarly subsumed. As were all the lizards and goblins.

I wanted to yell out in rage, but, you know, I didn’t really want to swallow that slime.

Anywhere my skin was exposed started to burn. Not a terrible burn, more along the feeling I got the one time I decided to bleach my hair. What can I say? It was the summer I tried to look like I belonged in Abercrombie and Fitch.

The guards tried to move, tried to swim through the slime. More than one had a look of panic in their eyes, — eyes that were surely being burned.

I closed my eyes and reached out with tremorsense. It worked surprisingly well within the slime itself. I could tell exactly where everyone was, and I could even feel their heartbeats. I still had most of my body free, so I grabbed hold of the door I wrenched myself free of the slime.

A quick few steps and I grabbed a large candlestick, complete with burning candles. I jammed the big candles into the slime and it reacted instantly, pulling back from the doorway enough that I could edge out onto the balcony.

I set the candelabra on the ground near my feet and made sure the candles were still lit. Then I pulled a steel war-pick from my bag and slammed the pointy bit into the stone. It bit hard, and a quick test tug gave me the confidence to shove one arm into the slime.

The slime immediately tried to pull me in. When that didn’t work, it tried to reach around to grab me, only to find the lit candles set to keep that from happening.

Inside the slime, I grabbed the nearest guard and pulled him out.

Then the next and the next and the next, pulling each guard out as fast as I could. The goblins I left.

One of the saved guards came rushing back toward the slime with a huge torch. He used that to force the slime away, until too much of its weight was off the balcony.

The slime seemed to teeter for a moment before it fell to the ground below, where it hit with a solid thwap. I rushed to the edge and looked over to see soldiers with torches swarming over the red slime to burn it into submission.

More red slimes were already flying through the air, launched by the siege weapons I’d thought were definitely well out of range. Though the first one had hit spot on, the rest splat against the mountain, nearly harmless, sliding down the rock wall with only a slightly reflective trail as a reminder of what had just transpired.

As the guards above helped each other from the balcony, and the guards below swarmed the various slimes with torches, I leaned against the goop-covered balustrade and let my tremorsense range out. Several things moved across the mountain face, likely more lizards and their riders. They were a decent distance away, though closing.

“Your grace,” Alexander said, moving very slowly toward me.

“Shouldn’t you be heading to the healers?” I asked, giving his limping form a long look.

“The potion you gave me will suffice for the moment. I grow concerned about the fate of Coggeshall. These tactics are new, unseen in any prior goblin engagements. Using slimes as a ranged weapon is brilliant. Devious and horrible, but brilliant. Had they attacked during the middle of the day when we were not readying torches? Mass casualties, I imagine. Later in the night, and we would not even see them — who knows what they would have done if we did not kill them in time? And look at your armor — it is pitted and damaged. This will—“

“There are more lizard riders on their way,” I said. “That way.”

“Fuck those sneaky goblins,” Czubakowski said, squinting to the west where I’d pointed. “You are sure?”

“I am.”

His arm crumpled from under him and he started to fall, but I just snatched him and held him up.

The captain mumbled something, and slipped into unconsciousness.

I frowned and got him over my shoulder, heading to the hospital once again.

74

The hospital hummed in full triage mode. A healer stood out front, directing the not-so-gravely wounded to wait in the hallway, where a number of cots were arranged.

“How wounded is he, your grace?” the young woman asked, her face very serious.

“Pretty bad,” I said. “I gave him a healing potion—“

“Shit,” she said, “bring him in.”

I followed her into the hospital itself and saw that it was already nearing capacity with just the badly wounded. Baltu and Lee were both gone, as were the others who’d been involved in the NorthFort building party disaster. Still, I saw full beds all the way down. Plus, extra beds had been installed. Beds that had clearly been pulled from nearby rooms.

The place was surprisingly quiet, with hushed conversations happening all over the place, and healers leaning over the injured in hurried consultations.

“This is the captain of the legion here,” I said. “I need him back on his feet.”

“Understood, your grace,” the young woman in front of me said with a nod, guiding me to an open bed.

I laid Czubakowski down as gently as I could.

“What happened to him?” the healer asked. “And undo his armor please.”

“I, uh,” I stammered for a second while I tried to find the leather straps holding his breastplate together. “Some goblins and lizards attacked us upstairs,”

“Any poison?”

“Not that I know of.”

“And you gave him a potion?”

“A healing potion, yeah.”

“Balls,” she said, looking into his eyes and putting her hand on his head. “He is very ill. Some disease has entered his system, and your use of the healing potion has massively accelerated it.”

“That can happen?”

“It is a very real danger,” she said through clenched teeth, then she let out a beleaguered sigh. “We will do what we can for him, but I make no promises.”

“Nathalie Glaton?”

“She is,” the healer said, then paused, “doing poorly.”

“Is she going to live?”

“That remains to be seen, your grace.”

“Fuck,” I said. “I need—“

“Go, your grace. We will do our best—“

“Thank you,” I said, and left the hospital as quickly as I could, heading straight outside. I burst through the double doors, but stopped to let a group of soldiers burn a large slime.

I curved around the slime-burning party and headed for the gates, where I saw someone wearing a more ornate helmet than any of the other legionnaires.

As I walked, I realized I picked up a companion.

“Your grace,” Arno said.

“If it isn’t my imperial mancer,” I said. “Any reason you’re not dropping fireballs on the enemy right now?”

“War magic is a delicate dance.”

“Is it now?”

“It is a continued battle with the other magic users. Should I drop a fireball, it is likely they will counter my fireball, or decide to drop something even nastier on us.”

“So you both do nothing?”

“We both wait for the other to make a mistake before we act.”

“Mutually assured destruction?”

“Something along those lines. The greatest use of magic in war is not the battle itself. It is in the preparation.”

“Have you helped our preparation?”

“As much as I have been able.”

“Great. Czubakowski is down.”

“I assumed as much. How bad?”

“Quite. Are you, I mean, where are you in the legion hierarchy?”

“Off to the side. Why?”

“Who is next in command?”’

“We are woefully short of officers at the moment, so you have your choice of either Lieutenant James Hjort or Lieutenant Ingeborg Mogenson.”

“Preference?”

“Mogenson is hot-headed and fond of charging. The other is more likely to advise running. Or hiding.”

“Mogenson it is.”

“I believe she is this way.”

Arno led me basically to where I’d already been headed, to a woman standing up on top of the gatehouse, looking through a rudimentary telescope at the gathered and moving horde out on the cleared fields.

“Duke Coggeshall,” Arno said loudly. “Lieutenant Ingeborg Mogenson.”

The woman turned to look at me, gave me a quick once over, and then stood up straight. She was tall, lithe and muscular, with a severe face that seemed to have collected scars over the years that belied her actual age.

“Your grace,” she said. “You require me?”

“Czubakowski is out of commission,” I said. “I’m placing you in charge.”

“Your grace,” she said, with a slight bow of her head and the start of a smile on her face. “I will not—“

“I need you to get soldiers in place on all the balconies of Mountain Home. Goblins riding lizards are coming in that way.”

“Lizards, your grace?”

“Big ones. And it seems like they pass disease with their bites, and I’m wondering why you aren’t giving orders out right now, because those lizards and goblins are going to be inside sooner rather than later.”

“Of course, your grace. Sergeant Haldersen,” she snapped, and walked over to an older man nearby.

I heard the orders being given, but I looked over to Arno again.

“Can you tell what’s going on out there?” I asked.

“Besides the amassing horde?” Arno replied.

“I mean, is there some magic user out there that you can feel?”

“I can. There are also magic users in here I can feel. I can feel the mana you’ve currently got on tap, and I admit, it’s more than a little terrifying.”

“I can’t cast any spells.”

“A secret best kept. Any caster on the other side is going to hold off on anything until they know you’re impotent. In a magical sense, of course.”

“Of course,” I said, with a frown.

“There are many magical pieces on the board of this terrible game, your grace. Quite a few out there, and not many as I’d like in here.”

“Your grace,” Mogenson said, interjecting herself into our conversation, “the guards are on the way.”

“I need to know what’s going on here,” I said. “I’m a bit at a loss and I’d really rather not be that way. What kind of forces do we have?”

“Exact numbers are difficult,” she said. “We have, um, quite a few casualties, and I am still trying to understand the different, well, units available to me. As far as the legion goes, we have a little under one thousand able bodies—“

“You guys came here with two thousand! You’ve lost—“

“We have not lost a thousand troops, your grace. There have been quite a few deaths in the recent conflicts, but substantially more injuries. I daresay we have far more able swords than your own military.”

I frowned at that. I really wanted to say something in retort, but she made an excellent point. The Coggeshall military was a fraction of the legion’s size.

“At present,” she continued, “we have six officers total, two lieutenants and the rest second lieutenants. We are short sergeants, and have fewer infantry than I would like. Four hundred infantry, six hundred archers. Of that, I have two hundred infantry below us, ready for the gatehouse. Another one hundred are currently in the courtyard playing torch-the-slime. The remaining are inside MountainHome as reserve. Or now, guarding any exits to the outside. All six hundred archers are in the towers along the wall.”

“That doesn’t sound that bad,” I said. “How big would you estimate the enemy?”

“Ten thousand? More?”

“Okay, so ten-to-one odds. Not the worst in the world.”

“I feel reasonably confident—“

Something rumbled underneath us, coming under the wall and into the courtyard. As one, we all looked at the ground and followed the rumble until a giant banded worm launched out of the earth, chunks of rock and dirt raining around us. The worm, mouth wide open, landed on a group of soldiers and continued down into the ground, leaving little in its wake besides blood spatters and mud.

“Reasonably confident?” I asked.

“Less so, your grace,” she said, then began barking orders just as goblins began swarming out of the newly formed worm hole.

75

I jumped off the gatehouse while pulling an axe from my knapsack. The big bearded axe head glinted in the remnants of the sunlight that had nearly disappeared behind the western peaks. I landed in a roll and came up sprinting for the worm-hole and the rushing goblins, who were all aiming directly for the gates.

Some of the goblins either saw me or felt me, and they pealed off the group charge, screaming in fear and going any way but towards me.

The rest came on.

I stopped my own charge, planted my feet, and swung for the fences as they approached.

It was like cutting wheat with a scythe.

My axe head whistled through the air and bisected goblin after goblin in a fantastic display of gore and viscera. I chopped again, and more of the nasty creatures fell before my onslaught.

The goblins did not stop, though. As a group they flowed around me, seeming to accept the hideous price their fellows paid for their passage.

After four deep cuts and a disgusting pile of corpses, the goblins had moved beyond me, still bound for the gates.

I turned to watch, torn between going after the gate goblins and the continued flow of goblins coming from the hole, who now had other destinations.

Arrows rained down from the wall, especially from the towers, dropping goblin corpses everywhere. They looked like pincushions.

The infantry under the gatehouse formed up a shield wall, keeping their back to the gate. The goblins came on and crashed into the shields, jabbing their little spears as fast as they could before they were killed.

It seemed like a pointless exercise until I saw a bright flame flare from the back line of goblins. A heartbeat later, the bright flame soared through the air, and a glass bauble smashed against the wooden doors in a terrifying explosion of fire.

A second, third, fourth, and fifth glass bauble smashed against the door. They turned the gatehouse into a raging inferno, with flames licking up and around the stonework, and seeming to actually burn the stone itself.

The legion infantry slaughtered the goblin charge, but the goblins had done their job. They got the gate burning and forced the legion off the gatehouse. Infantry and archers streamed out of the building, some moving along the walls, most heading onto the snowy field beyond. Some poor souls were actually on fire and just leapt from the building into the snow below.

Officers and sergeants bellowed orders, getting the infantry back into some sense of formation. They blocked off the stairwells leading up to the towers on the walls and prepared to repel the goblins from getting into the doors of MountainHome.

For a second, I thought we might be able to stem the flow. But once again, as confidence grew, so did a rumble from underground.

I dipped into tremorsense to find the stupid fucking worm, but the dirt under my feet had already disappeared. I was going to be swallowed by the worm.

“Wrong move!” I managed to shout as I began my journey down the worm’s throat.

76

As the worm’s muscles constricted around me, I let go of my axe and maneuvered my hands around until I could get into the knapsack.

I had to work to get a dagger out, then a second. I was being crushed in various directions, and I had to steel myself against the pain. But the game world didn’t seem to consider me in combat, so any injuries I suffered were quickly healed.

At least until I started digging my way out of the worm with some serious stabbing. I’ve always appreciated that the insides of big fuck-off monsters are soft and pliable. It only took a moment for me to cut through the stomach. Or the throat. My concept of worm anatomy is spotty at best.

Naturally, my internal butchering got the attention of the worm. I think it was trying to disgorge me, but then again, why would I let that happen when I was so close to getting out the side exit? I sliced through more muscles and finally stabbed my dagger right through the tough hide.

But I got stymied because I couldn’t easily cut through the hide on the outside. Instead, I had to keep punching holes, like I was making a perforated edge. All the while, the worm writhed violently. Finally, I’d made enough holes that I could force myself through, and I managed to pull myself from the inside of the banded worm back to the outside world. I gasped as I tasted the sweet night air, instead of whatever foul stuff I’d been breathing.

The worm didn’t seem to be doing very well, so I walked up to the front of it. I got a spear from my bag and stabbed down where I thought a brain might be.

When that didn’t stop the worm from moving, I stabbed it a few more places until the damn thing stopped squirming and I got a death notice. The downside, I’d mangled the corpse enough that I didn’t think I’d manage a second trophy from its head.

I had enough time to take two deep breaths, look around, and realize that Coggeshall had become a shit show.

Goblins still rushed out of the worm hole, and though I could see a large squad of legionnaires working together to try and block off that entrance to Coggeshall, enough goblins were already inside that there really wasn’t a way to get a shield wall together without leaving one side fully exposed to an attack.

“Fall back to MountainHome!” I called out, and started that way.

Archers sprinted along the walls, stopping to fire an arrow here and there before taking off again. At least one squad stood ready at the doors to MountainHome. They formed up as a shield wall, letting legion troops and other Coggeshallians inside while pushing back any goblin forces that strayed too close.

Other legion infantry units made a tactical retreat. Some more tactical than others, to the front double doors of MountainHome, where they were able to slip through their brethren to get inside.

I followed close behind, doing my best to make sure all the rest of my side was able to get away from the goblin horde. A horde that was still pouring out of the worm hole.

As I slipped through the legion lines, I heard something thudding against the gate.

I turned to watch as the giant doors of the gatehouse explodes in a shower of flaming splinters. Two of the huge humanoids wearing their giant metal collars stumbled into the Coggeshall courtyard.

“Fuck,” I whispered, and readied myself to attack.

77

I glanced into MountainHome and saw a lobby full of exhausted soldiers and worried faces. Blood essentially covered the floor, as nearly everyone had an injury of some kind. Armor hung off in various states of destruction; no one had a full kit ready to go. The various magic users, witches and mancers and others, were in a circle, looking pale, exhausted, and ready to fall over. Given the puddle at the floor, at least one had very recently been sick.

Everyone looked at me, to me, despite the thudding footsteps. The big assbutts outside stomped toward the entrance to MountainHome, with just a few men, women, and shields standing in their way.

“Pull them inside,” I said to Mogenson. “Close the doors and hold them against whatever comes. Do not open them until I come back.”

She looked concerned, and not at all sure about what I was about to do. But regardless, she followed my orders, getting everybody inside while my dumb ass walked out.

I was the only Coggeshallian outside MountainHome who was still alive.

I looked at the charging creatures. The goblins swarmed around, trying to get into some formation. This wasn’t my wisest move, but I just didn’t know what else to do. The legion, despite their expertise, were getting chewed up. They needed at least a few minutes to recuperate. And if there was one thing I was good at, it was violence. These goblins seemed only to understand violence. They needed to be reminded why I was to be feared.

A cold fury slowly spread in my body.

I got the sword of weight out of my bag and gave it a swing around my shoulders.

The assbutts still charged my way. The goblins just milled around.

I walked, nonchalant, toward the giants.

They slowed, confused at this one man unafraid of their approach.

I felt ready to fight, ready to bring the pain.

But someone beat me to the punch.

Quite literally.

I heard a bestial roar and saw huge shapes flying overhead, slamming into the big creatures.

The rolegurdaüdi arrived on the scene in stunning fashion. Their huge claws ripped into the big humanoids, tearing through thick layers of fat and skin.

I halted in my tracks, confused, watching the three rolegurdaüdi trading off between their two opponents. They moved so quickly and struck so hard it seemed like the big humanoids had no idea how to fight back.

The goblins were similarly taken aback, so I decided that it was as good a time as any for my own attack.

I sprinted to the nearest formation of goblins and laid into them with my sword.

They barely put up a resistance, seeming just to fall to my blade as if that’s exactly why they were there, as if I were meant to slaughter them. I wasn’t going to complain — I was happy to kill the little fuckers.

The big fuckers, meanwhile, fell to the claws and teeth of the rolegurdaüdi in no time, leaving the creatures to roll their violence right on over to the goblins.

Between the three rolegurdaüdi and myself, we pushed the goblins back out through the door.

Which meant, naturally, that whatever brilliant bastard was commanding the goblins sent more of his, or her, forces into Coggeshall. The brutes came scaling over the wall, right near the Brownie tree.

A wild display of magic came forth around the tree, a light show like I hadn’t seen since that one Fourth of July when Slow Mike found out why you didn’t store your fireworks in the same trailer where you cook meth.

But that display was very quickly followed by a stream of brownies high-tailing it toward the doors to Coggeshall. Right as the streaks faded from my eyes, there was an incredibly fast exchange of magic in the sky that I only barely saw. I more felt the raw power as magic canceled magic, over and over.

Seeing the brownies running for safety, I disengaged from the goblins and ran back to the damn doors and get them open for the brownies to escape the goblin horde.

More of the huge bastards came in through the gatehouse, and the howls reverberating from outside were a clear indicator that wolf riders were on their way.

I pounded on the door.

“Duke Coggeshall,” I yelled. “Open up for the brownies.”

The doors swung open, and the little brownies, all below waist height, shot past me into the safety of MountainHome. Behind the legion lines, I could see members of my hirð armed up and ready to fight.

“You stay here,” I said to Skeld, noting the absolute terror in his eyes. “You and Ragnar are next in line.”

“We’re what?” Ragnar asked.

“You heard me,” I said, and turned back to the fight.

78

The rolegurdaüdi were a sight to behold. You know, when you weren’t the one actually fighting them. They moved so well, so fluidly. They’d been devastating to the big assbutts, just mowing them down with barely any issue. However, the sheer number of goblins proved to be a lot.

Death by a thousand cuts.

I could see blood pouring out from basically everywhere on the biggest of my friendly monsters. It burned me up inside to face the fact that I was witnessing their death.

They were over by the gatehouse. I was by the front doors.

The cries of the rolegurdaüdi filled me with rage and sadness. I let those emotions power me as I worked my way through goblin after goblin, cutting through hands and heads with equal measure, the sound of the shitty goblin weapons banging on my armor acting as a rhythm of violence.

I lost the sword of weight in a well-armored goblin’s clavicle and chest piece, so had to swap out my fantastic sword for his shitty one. And then that started the great weapon swap, as I killed with one weapon only to take the dying goblin’s blade to kill the next. And so on, until the bonuses started to really build up, and I started to do unreal amounts of damage to each goblin.

I don’t know if it was magic filling me with that ability, if I was doing that much damage no matter how I hit the goblins, or if the ability was giving me preternatural skills in finding the perfect spots on each goblin to really inflict harm.

Try as I might though, there were too many bodies between me and the rolegurdaüdi, and the first one fell under the onslaught of a whole troop of goblin brutes, who brought their big weapons to bear on the monster. The rolegurdaüdi made them pay, though, having killed what seemed like hundreds of goblins.

The big one’s death caused the female to go into overdrive, her grief nearly overpowering. She tore apart everything in between her and her mate, throwing goblins over her shoulder, ripping apart the brutes that were still savaging her mate’s corpse. But just as the larger male rolegurdaüdi had been killed, so was the female.

There were too many goblins, too many spears, too many swords, too many wounds for anyone to survive. She crushed more and more goblins, seemingly oblivious to pain, or to their attacks. Her grief pushed her further and further until she had left a bloody trail of destruction and death through the gates.

Her death was only heralded by a sudden silence, followed by a ragged goblin cheer.

Only one rolegurdaüdi remained upright, the youngest one who bled from a host of wounds. Across the battlefield, I could read the emotions in his eyes as he looked at me. Fear radiated out — he did not seek death as his parents had, and yet, he felt that need for revenge.

“Fall back,” I yelled, stomping on a goblin who got in my way. “I got this.”

He must have known I was lying, that I would surely suffer the same fate as his parents. And yet, he took me at my word. He spun around, clearing a space directly in front of him, and then sprung up, leaping onto the wall.

As I sliced and diced goblins into pieces like an oversized slap-chop, the last rolegurdaüdi ran along the crenellations, dodging the few goblins who attempted to stop him. Then, without even the barest halt, he leapt up and planted his talons right into the rock wall, going straight up the mountain until he collapsed at the first balcony.

And then I was alone.

Except for, you know, a few thousand bloodthirsty goblins.

There was a momentary pause, as if the goblins couldn’t quite believe I was the only one out here fighting them. Hell, I couldn’t quite believe it.

What a time for a pithy phrase.

Pity I couldn’t come up with one.

79

There’s almost no good time to activate my deadliest fighting ability. It was dangerous to go into a full blood rage, where I could kill every living thing I came across. It would, inevitably, lead to more problems than I could imagine if I did something like that in the middle of a normal battle.

But this wasn’t a normal battle. And maybe it was the one good time.

I smiled at the nearest goblin, closed my eyes, and kicked in that most delicious of abilities: battle frenzy.

A roar tore out of my throat, unbidden and harsh. Almost like I had set something free inside myself, and it was crying out in freedom and exultation.

The ring of goblins around me all took an involuntary step back. Which didn’t do them any good, because I just launched myself into their midst in a frantic fury.

I stomped on the short goblins while I cut apart their friends. I threw daggers and knives, hitting eyes and noses. I tore off arms and smashed skulls. There was a blur to my actions, but I knew I was being hurt. I knew there were injuries not just to my exposed head and neck, but also there were punctures and dents to my armor. But I was killing things so fast I had a surplus of health. Blood poured forth so intensely that it formed a heady red mist, swirling around the courtyard of Coggeshall.

More goblins came forth to meet their death at my hands.

Brutes tried to face me down, only to get one-shot by a flying goblin helmet.

The deaths blurred in front of me. My actions were both my own and, at the same time, someone else’s. I started having trouble keeping track of what was happening, letting my body act on its on volition.

It was macabre.

A slaughterhouse.

And it just seemed to go on and on and on.

I had to admit, even in that haze of death, the goblins didn’t seem to have any problem marching to their own death. Some even seemed to go willingly.

A noise grew from the goblin horde as I pushed the fighting from inside the walls to outside them, a bizarre cacophony transforming from something I couldn’t discern into a strange chant:

Bloodletter.

Bloodletter.

Bloodletter.

The blood mist swirled around, growing into a bigger and bigger cloud.

In my heightened bloodlust, I couldn’t help but smile at the evidence of my violence. At my ability as a slayer. I reveled in it, finding a terrifying joy in the destruction I wrought. Nothing stood before me; all were cut down.

There was a brilliant flash as an unreal amount of power became unleashed.

It knocked me on my ass, then sent me skidding on my back across the ground until my head collided with the Coggeshall wall.

80

I stared at the stars for a moment, trying to decide if I was looking at the night sky or just the result of a serious head injury.

It couldn’t be the actual stars — hadn’t it been cloudy? Hadn’t there been snow? Hadn’t there been a blood mist?

And yet, I was looking at a clear sky, the moons full and brilliant, showering the snow-covered landscape in a glorious cavalcade of colors.

Slowly, I sat up.

The blood mist was gone.

I glanced around, and it seemed like all the blood was gone.

The goblin horde, at least what remained of it, were slowly picking themselves off the ground. Or they just chose to remain down.

I was on my feet before any of the goblins.

But my battle frenzy, the blood rush? It was gone. I was back to being just me.

I threw the bent goblin sword I’d been holding to the ground, knowing I’d lost whatever damage bonus I’d accrued, and pulled a nice long axe from my bag. Good for keeping high numbers at bay.

The goblins, however, didn’t charge. They just looked around, and I could almost feel their anticipation.

There was a rumble, so I reached out with tremorsense, immediately worried another worm was coming. But I felt nothing in the ground.

I looked over my shoulder into Coggeshall. Our courtyard was filled with dead. Bloodless dead. In front of me were the remains of the horde, considerably smaller now. There seemed to be no more of the big assbutts, only one small group of the brutes, and none of the little miniature goblins I’d seen earlier. It was now, mostly, just regular night goblins, though a surprising number wore black robes. The warriors seemed to be in short supply.

My armor was free from its normal gore, and the mithril almost glowed in the moonlight.

Another rumble. A deep basso profundo rolled across the landscape, reverberating back off the mountain walls.

The air above the goblins seemed to shimmer for a moment, and then settled back to reality. Like a great amount of heat had been caught underneath the air.

Then the shimmer came back, paired with the rumble. The shimmer grew, the air moving so fast and hard that it looked like someone had somehow grabbed the air, and was shaking it around.

Huge fingers pushed through, tearing a hole through the air. Or reality. Tearing holes in reality. The fingers looked like goblin fingers, but bigger. Massive. Beyond the scope of my grasp of the world. They were so big as to dwarf anything I’d seen.

Another group of fingers came through another set of holes. Then arms so big they were as thick around as the trees in the Emerald Sea.

The arms and hands grabbed at our reality and wrenched it apart, causing the world to split for hundreds of feet, up to the sky and down to the ground.

Into Vuldranni stepped the biggest goblin I think has ever existed. An ur-goblin. It was at least four hundred feet tall. Its red eyes glowed in the night, probably as big as backyard trampolines. Each step shook the ground so hard I had trouble remaining upright. Its arms hung down at its side, nearly reaching the ground, much longer than seemed natural.

I could only think of the ur-goblin as Gobthulu. An ancient, exiled, elder god of goblins, brought to this world. Gobthulu. It just had the right sort of ring to it.

In the midst of this titanic goblinoid figure examining the new world it had just torn its way into, the goblins cheered, screamed, even fainted. They were ecstatic, in a state of frenzied reverie. Frantic chanting and dancing.

Gobthulu swept its gaze across the world, its glowing red eyes putting out enough light that I could tell exactly where its gaze fell. It reached its huge hand down, picked up nearly a hundred goblins and brought the tiny things closer, peering down at them.

One goblin fell out of Gobthulu’s hand and pinwheeled to the ground, where it smashed into a quiet and sticky lump of flesh.

He was the lucky one.

The rest Gobthulu tipped into his maw and chewed. I could hear their bones popping from my position.

But the goblins just cheered more, seeming to love that they were food to their god. Or whatever was going on.

I also heard shouts from inside the mouth of Gobthulu, but not happy shouts. The titanic goblin reached down for another handful of tasty treats, pouring those unlucky goblins into its mouth as well, and chewed with what I took to be deific relish. It blithely took a step forward as it reached out for another handful of its newest dietary fascination, its foot slamming down within the horde, sending blood and guts out to either side and making fresh goblin jam in the process. Gobthulu did not seem to care about the death, or the jam.

Being that the new threat to our existence was pretty involved with destroying the old threat to our existence, I felt like I had a moment to think through things. Clearly, the big bastard wasn’t going to just walk the other way and leave us alone. Gobthulu had to notice Coggeshall at some point, and then it was going to be up to me to deal with the monstrosity. The monstrosity the size of a building, dwarfing absolutely everything I’d seen in this world so far.

Another handful of goblins went into the maw, disappearing into that hell of teeth and tongue. Their screams merged discordantly with the continued chants and cheers of the uneaten goblins down below.

Was my best option just letting the big fucker take out as many goblins as possible?

Maybe.

But the thing is, I’ve never really been great at waiting.

I sighed, really wishing I could just be fishing. But you know what they say: titans wait for no man.

81

I charged at Gobthulu, an axe above my head and ready to chop down.

The huge thing didn’t even notice.

A few goblin arrows flew in my general direction, but even the ones that hit bounced off my armor harmlessly.

I ran right past the huge foot, got myself planted and chopped at an Achilles tendon the size of a tree.

The axe head hit hard, and the edge bent just a little before the wooden shaft shattered in three pieces, like a length of spaghetti.

I looked at the ruined weapon left in my hand and the vague hint of a mark on the green skin in front of me.

Gobthulu just flicked its foot, as if it’d felt an ant crawl. I went flying.

I slammed through ranks of goblins, their pathetic bodies breaking my fall.

I got to my feet, grabbed a goblin by the head and threw him out of my way. The goblins were, by-and-large, captivated by Gobthulu and not paying me any attention, despite being in their midst.

Fine by me. I snatched a dropped goblin sword and cleared some space around me.

Then I got a spear out of my bag and charged at Gobthulu once again, getting up to full speed in mere yards. My feet churning the earth and my blood thundered in my head as I sprinted at the massive foot, the long metal spear point leading the way.

Spear met leg, and I thought, for a second, that it was going to puncture. But it just slipped off, leaving little more than a scratch.

At least it was enough to get the attention of the titan.

Red light washed over me as Gobthulu glared down at the thing that had dared injure it.

Huge fingers came at me.

I dove out of the way.

The hand followed, smashing the ground.

I sprinted as fast as I could, but the sheer size of Gobthulu’s arm and hand meant I couldn’t outrun the fucker. Those big fucking fingers snatched me up and held me like a crumb.

Up into the air I went, hundreds of feet up until I dangled in the direct gaze of the ginormous goblin-god-thing I’d named Gobthulu. Its glowing red gaze felt physically palpable. I felt as if I could see an infinity within its eyes, all contained within the reddish hell-scape of its irises. But as inhuman and eerie as its eyes were, the smells coming from its mouth, the hot rush of air from its nose as it snorted at me, were all too real.

I threw the bent spear at Gobthulu’s eye.

Its eyelid closed so fast that it blew my hair back.

A roar erupted from the gobthulu’s mouth that was so incredibly loud, my eardrums burst in a phenomenal whipsaw of pain that echoed throughout my body. Then there was nothing but silence.

Luckily, I wasn’t technically in combat. My ears healed in time for me to hear the goblins cheering as Gobthulu lifted me higher in the air. Then I went down, and then up one more time. The fingers let go and I flew in a horrible arc, reaching a spot where I felt like I was just floating in the sky.

I can see my house from here, I involuntarily thought. It looked small.

The people standing out on the balcony watching me fly looked tiny. The goblins below me were barely specks, but I did notice there were significantly fewer of them, to a stunning degree. Between my slaughter and Gobthulu, barely a tenth of the goblins remained. And, from my momentary weightlessness right below the clouds, I could see an odd group heading very quickly away from the back of the goblin army. I had to wonder if that was the command group, running away from the unfathomable monstrosity they realized they could not control.

Finally, gravity decided to kick back in, and I was falling once more.

Heading straight for a gaping black hole. Ringed with teeth the size of the columns in front of the Michigan Central Station.

Despite my best efforts, I went straight down the throat of Gobthulu. I did not get chewed to a pulp by the ginormous bastard. I did, however, get dunked into the largest pool of acid I’d ever seen.

Win some, lose some, I guess.

82

It has come to my attention that I have a tendency to get eaten by monsters more than the average bear. I would guess it’s because I’m just so damn tasty.

Normally when you’re in someone’s stomach — at least judging the ceaseless ones I’ve been in — there’s not a whole lot of room. It’s like being crushed in an above-ground pool.

But Gobthulu’s was actually kind of wide open, more like an Olympic pool complex. There were hundreds of goblins in various states of disintegration, including a few poor bastards who were still, in at least some capacity, alive and kicking. Some of the most piteous screams and mewlings I’d ever heard.

The general tactic, once you’ve been eaten, is to cut your way out from the inside. Normally not a big deal, being that the inside is usually quite close to the outside. In this case, however, I had to start swimming for the edge, and as I moved about in the stomach, Gobthulu moved in the real world. It was the most extreme version of being in a swimming pool on a boat in high seas. I got shifted about with every step, thrown around in an increasingly disgusting environment, as the stomach acid became more and more full of liquified goblin. I couldn’t reach any edge of the stomach. And I had to fight so hard just to stay above water (or acid or goblin juice or whatever) that I couldn’t get any sort of weapon out of my bag.

Any of my armor that wasn’t mithril bubbled in the acid. Also my skin. At least, since I wasn’t in combat, I got to enjoy the perpetual burning and healing of my skin and muscles. Over and over again.

Being thrown all around the acid pool was a whole new level of frustration. I just had no fucking chance to get close enough to the damn stomach wall. But spending the rest of my regenerating life in the midst of a fucking goblin stomach was not the life I wanted.

I had to do something.

If I couldn’t cut my way out, how the fuck was I going to get out?

A shower of half-chewed goblins came pouring down the throat, splashing into the horror show around me. Screams muffled as goblins disappeared below the surface.

If I waited long enough, and provided the gobthulu was going to keep eating, it was possible I could just float to the top and then crawl out the fucker’s throat.

Although that would take a while.

If only I had a way to speed up the process. I could explode myself — that might do enough damage to destroy Gobthulu. And provided I also died in the process, it would set me free from the stomach. But as I thought through the process, I realized that in my infinite wisdom, I still hadn’t reset my spawn point like Lee had instructed me to.

“Fuck,” I shouted into the feculent void of Gobthulu’s digestive tract.

As I treaded the fluidized goblin-acid mixture, I had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea that involved the one real spell I still had that didn’t involve exploding myself. I could summon a whole shit-load of prinkies. Prinkies took up space...

I felt quite bad about what I was about to do, but it was a necessary evil: I started summoning prinkies.

Each one arrived happy, but then plopped into the acid with just enough time to look at me with guilty eyes before exploding into a mass of glitter. The result transformed the gurgling hell into a moment of joy.

But it was taking too long.

I’d never really tried summoning more than one prinky at a time — I wasn’t sure it was possible.

But I had the mana to experiment.

I tried ten, thinking that I needed ten, and thinking where each one of the ten was going to go in the direct area around me.

Poof. Ten prinkies met their death in the acid, spraying everything in the area with glitter.

My mana dipped a teensy bit, but quickly bounced back to full. Fifty mana was next to nothing for me now.

I summoned a thousand prinkies at once.

A giant, fluffy ball of happy ready-to-work magical beings appeared in the stomach. Suddenly there was glitter everywhere, like an entire craft store tipped over.

The titanic goblin stopped. Its huge stomach sloshed around, an increasingly glitter-filled ocean.

My mana was almost back to full.

Two thousand prinkies.

More fur, glitter, and guilty looks.

I’m so glad prinkies don’t really make noise, because I would have hated to listen to all those screams as they got subsumed by the acid. Acid that didn’t seem to have much of an effect on their glittery remains. I guess no matter the universe, glitter was impervious to, well, anything.

I knew I had to be covered in the stuff.

Disturbing sounds started to ring out from all around me; Gobthulu’s digestive system was clearly having some real fucking issues.

I figured another thousand or so would do the trick.

Poof. A thousand prinkies there for a heartbeat, before they turned to another vile explosion of acid and glitter.

I could almost reach the sphincter at the bottom of the esophagus. If I grabbed that, I could cut—

Another disturbing gurgle, and the entire stomach rolled. I got sloshed against one side, then the other, going under the surface for a foul moment before clawing my way back up as a huge bubble of rancid gas came up and the level of the stomach juice lowered.

Motherfucker.

I emptied my mana pool and filled the fucker’s stomach, noting that the acid had to have mellowed out some because the prinkies were lasting a little longer, swimming around in the foul muck before popping into clouds of glitter.

So close. I kicked up and stretched full out for the sphincter, my fingers just grazing it. But I couldn’t grab anything.

But that bit of contact seemed to do something, because there was a whole new level of activity in the stomach. Things were moving all over the damn place, and then something magical happened.

I got to ride the world’s most disgusting water slide.

83

On Earth, glitter puke is something you only see in underground performance clubs in the darkest corners of Montreal, in the wee hours between everyone going to sleep and the bagels starting to get made. At least, that was the only other time I’d seen it.

It’s an entirely different experience riding in glitter puke than watching a nude woman hork up blue glitter in silver paint over a canvas, though.

Gobthulu’s entire stomach clenched at once, sending all its stomach juices and all the accompanying contents lurching up, through the esophagus, and out its humongous mouth. I dodged the teeth and then flew through the air in a bizarre show of freedom and jubilation, only to smash into the muddy ground below.

At which point the rest of the stomach contents poured all over me. Arms, legs, and other only marginally identifiable bits of goblin bounced off my head and back, in a gory yet muted percussive performance.

I laid there a moment. The cold air felt refreshing on my skin, and I appreciated the moonlight sparkling off my newly glittered exterior. I could feel my body knitting all my smashed and smooshed bits back together. While it didn’t at all feel good, I did appreciate what was happening. I knew it’d feel good in a few minutes.

I got up and tried to get as much of the crud off me as possible.

But then I heard a horrible noise coming from well above me. I glanced up just in time to see the gobthulu prepping another horking. I sprinted to the side, running as fast as I could to get away from the torrent of vomit.

When I heard the splash behind me, I slid to a stop and pulled another spear from my bag.

I turned and released in one nearly smooth motion. The spear hurtled through the air perfectly on target, right into the open mouth of Gobthulu.

The spear stuck into the soft flesh inside the mouth of the titanic beast, and its massive glowing eyes winced for just a second. It felt the wound.

I pumped a fist in the air as I saw a tiny trickle of greenish-blackish blood mingled with the huge strands of saliva.

“If it bleeds—“ I started, but I couldn’t finish because the big fucker snatched me up and threw me.

Once again, I was flying.

For a world without airplanes, I certainly spent a lot of fucking time in the fucking air.

This time, instead of going up, I went sideways, hurtling over the river, over the forest, right past the hills, and into the mountains. A world of snow and a lot of fucking walking passed under me in the span of a few blinks, all lit by the bizarre blend of moonslight streaming through the completely clear sky.

My flight ended as suddenly as it had began as I smashed into an icy cliff face first.

84

I felt my feet kick my own ears, and then I slid down the cliff, the icy surface grating my face as I fell, faster and faster.

At the base of the cliff, I fell through a small amount of snow, and then hit a large amount of rock. I kept tumbling, over and over, until a snowball formed around me. Then I was off and rolling.

It was dark inside the snowball, and I was in such vast amounts of pain that I wasn’t exactly sure how long I tumbled or in what direction. I can only say that I had to have been moving somewhere, and it had to have taken some time because at one point, I was at the top of the mountains, and when the snowball stopped moving and I burst out of my frosty prison, I perched precariously on the edge of a crevasse.

My vision spun, and I grabbed at the snow beneath me in a vague attempt to stop everything from moving for a damn second.

Then my stomach started to churn, upset at my topsy-turvy existence.

My body was trapped in the armor, which had so many bizarre dents and scratches, bends and breaks, that I wasn’t exactly sure what was supposed to go where.

I managed to force my legs through the slim bits of rusted steel armor remains so my legs could fully straighten. Then I stood up, took a few steps to the left and one to the right. As I was about to fall into the crevasse, I reached out and grabbed a long rock on the edge, holding tight for a heartbeat until my head stopped spinning long enough for me to crawl up and along the rock. I patted the rock, to thank it for saving me. It trembled a little.

Up my head went, and I scrambled away from the rock and the crevasse.

I had a spear out of my bag before I knew what I was doing, ready to fight. But now that my head was clear, I saw where I was, and I saw that nice rock that saved me.

It was the smallest finger of the giant fucking hand I’d seen once before, when we were hunting the corrupted ursus.

And somehow, in my careful caress, I’d woken up whatever that damn thing was. The hand was starting to flex. The fingers dug deeper into the snow, and I could see the muscles tensing as whatever was on the other end of the arm got ready to pull itself up into the world.

“Fuck,” I said, in what I thought was a pointedly elegant response to the nightmare about to befall me after the nightmares that had already befallen me that day. It had been a long fucking day, capped by yet another impossibly large creature destroying my concept of reality by simply existing. I figured that had to be a record of some kind.

A memory started kicking around in my head. Something that might get me out of this misery.

When you’ve got one big fuck-off monster trying to destroy you, what’s the best possible defense?

Clearly, another big fuck-off monster.

There was a way to tip the scales in my favor.

I pulled the unfillable knapsack off my hip and dropped it onto the ground. I crouched in front of it, trying to remember the name of the stupid thing Mister Paul had given me that one time—

Super pet pod seemed to float on the wind.

“There is no fucking way—“ I started to say, but I reached into the bag, thinking super pet pod and I felt my hand grab onto something.

Pulling my hand out, I saw the orb in my hand.

“I’m sorry about this,” I said to the huge creature.

As if an answer, a second ginormous hand came out of the crevasse and slammed right next to me, hard enough that I nearly fell.

I threw the super pet pod at the monster, and, for good measure, shouted:

“Giant fuck-off monster, I choose you!”

The little orb of magic hit the huge hand and bounced along. Ripples of subtle purple light appeared every time the orb thing hit the creature’s skin, and as the super pet pod disappeared into the crevasse below, I saw a very slight glow begin, and then pop out.

Everything in the world seemed to go still. And dark.

Then, I got a notification:

* * *

You have successfully tamed an Albramjeeër (LVL 84)

* * *

The creature, impossibly big, seemed to shiver for a moment. Then it started moving again, pulling itself free from the crevasse.

I moved back involuntarily. It was impossible to stay that close to the huge being climbing up out of the ice. It just kept coming and coming until a massive head appeared, with three horns coming out of it. One sat out front alone, like a unicorn, and then two to the side, like a bull. It had a mammalian sort of head, a lot like a lion without the mane. Monstrous canines, way larger than me, hung down a fair distance out of the mouth of the creature. Long spikes seemed to pop up as its torso came out. By all counts it was terrifying, but when its eyes landed on me, a strange sort of softness settled over the creature, like it was truly happy to see me, that I gave it comfort. Joy.

And at the same time, I felt something twinge within myself, that here was a creature I trusted, that I knew and cared for.

When it stood before me, I couldn’t figure out what I was looking at. It had four legs in total. The front ones, with the creepy claws on them, were longer than the back legs, and there was a thick tail that ended in a crab-like pincer. White fur covered the thing, but it appeared the skin underneath was shiny, almost like an insect’s carapace.

Gently, the albramjeeër lowered its hand. I instinctively stepped up on it, without fear or hesitation. There was just a sense about the interaction. It lifted me up until I was right in front of its huge eye, and I could feel a sense of warmth emanating from it. Not just the fact that it was melting the snow all around it, but almost, I mean, love.

“Hey buddy,” I said softly.

Something along the lines of a purr reverberated out of the chest of the albramjeeër. Had I had fillings, I’d bet they’d have vibrated right out of my teeth.

“We gotta get home,” I said, pointing in the direction of Coggeshall, “and we gotta help our family.”

The albramjeeër tilted its head to the side, I think trying to understand what I’d just said.

“That way,” I said, pointing once again, “down the mountain.”

The big guy put his hand to his back and left it there for a moment. I grabbed onto the hair and climbed up to sit in the spot between his shoulder blades. The huge head of the albramjeeër nodded once, and we were moving.

85

If you have to travel the mountains around Coggeshall, I highly recommend traveling by albramjeeër. It is so choice. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking one up.

Not only did we make excellent time, I was warm, and none of the usual dangers seemed to feel like imposing themselves on us during our journey.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, before the sun was even a hint on the horizon, we got close enough to see the valley floor. And off to the south, we spotted the unmistakable, horrible sight of Gobthulu towering above the trees.

“That’s who we’re up against, big guy,” I said. “He’s the one attacking our home. He’s the bad guy, we’re the good guys.”

The albramjeeër grumbled, then growled a little.

“Let’s go kick some ass,” I said.

My good buddy launched himself off the rocky cliff and crashed into the ground, already in a sprint. The wind whipped past me, and I held on tight to the thick fur. We dodged trees, splashed through lakes, and crossed the distance in a matter of heartbeats. We made it to the cleared area in front of Coggeshall.

Dead goblins littered the ground. Live ones were nowhere to be seen. Gobthulu had feasted, though he was clearly still hungry, smashing his huge hands against the stone walls of MountainHome.

Albramjeeër didn’t even pause. He seemed to find a new gear, and dropped his head, angling his three horns right at the big fuck-off goblin.

Which gave me a beautiful, if terrifying, view of the impact.

The horns punctured Gobthulu in a spectacular fashion.

Gobthulu screamed.

I went flying. I think, perhaps, I was just a bit too shocked at everything happening that I forgot to hold on. I hit the MoutainHome wall and slid down to the balcony, landing among rubble and bodies, more evidence of Gobthulu’s attacks.

Thick, sludge-like blood came pouring out of Gobthulu. The albramjeeër twisted his head hard to the side, forcing Gobthulu to its knees.

The albramjeeër shook its head, spraying blood out in horrible splatters.

Gobthulu bounced back up terrifyingly fast. Its huge ugly hands grabbed for the albramjeeër’s horns, somehow knowing that the albramjeeër was going to attack again. And the albramjeeër tried to pull the same stab move. Gobthulu held onto the horns, and this time, forced the albramjeeër to twist.

In a tremendous feat of strength, the titanic goblin wrenched its back into a horrible arch, and lifted its opponent into the air, and then slammed the albramjeeër into the ground.

Which set off an avalanche above us. Rocks tumbled off the mountains, and a large section of the Coggeshall wall simply vanished.

The albramjeeër got back up and charged again.

But Gobthulu was ready again, and it pushed the albramjeeër to the side, forcing the albramjeeër off balance. Then Gobthulu opened its mouth wide and bit down on the albramjeeër’s flank.

It was a horrible blow, made all the worse when Gobthulu tore a chunk of flesh off,the size of a city bus.

My heart broke hearing the albramjeeër cry out in obvious pain.

I couldn’t just sit by and watch — I had to help. So I did what I always do: I hopped the ruined remains of the balustrade and crunched onto the ground. A moment of regeneration later, and I was running.

The footsteps of the two impossibly large beasts thundered around me, and I did my best to keep a sense of where they might be heading. If either of them stepped on me, I’d be toast. Or, you know, jam. On toast. But I made it through the maze of limbs the size of California redwoods and came out the other side, pausing just long enough to try and think through the stupid situation I’d just put myself in.

Gobthulu was bigger, stronger, and seemed to have much better mobility than my good best buddy, the albramjeeër. There was basically nothing I could do about the first two, but I had an idea on how to take Gobthulu down a peg on the last point. It might wind up with me getting more than a little squished, but then, so be it.

From my bag came one of my very favorite magical weapons, the Xiphos of Eternal Sharpness. I gave the blade a little flourish, and watched as the two titans measured each other up, getting ready for another pass.

The time had come.

I sprinted for Gobthulu, putting everything I had behind the charge, going as fast as I possibly could, my feet slamming down and eating up the ground. The massive goblin took a step forward, and I had to alter my direction ever so much. My feet slid a little in the blood-snow slush, to the point where I had to get a hand down to keep from falling. But the foot was nearer, and as the far leg started its movement, I reached the ankle.

The xiphos felt cool in my hand as I planted my feet and swung the magical blade as hard as I could, right at the stupid fucker’s Achilles tendon.

And like it always had, the xiphos cut.

I heard a remarkably loud pop as the tendon severed.

At the end of the cut, when the blade emerged from the greenish goblin hide, the xiphos shattered into a thousand pieces, sparkling in the moonlight. A bit like glitter, but, you know, bigger and metal-er.

Gobthulu couldn’t keep its balance. It dropped to its giant knee.

The albramjeeër wasn’t about to lose this opportunity, and it pounced, leading with the horns.

Gobthulu tried to grab the horns again, but the goblin didn’t have enough leverage. Two of the three horns made contact with the goblin’s chest.

And the albramjeeër got its jaw open, somehow hinging it well past what I assumed were its limits, and got those huge albramjeeër tusks to punch through Gobthulu’s skin.

Hard blows rained down on the albramjeeër.

The albramjeeër torqued its head back and forth, trying to destroy as much of Gobthulu as it could.

Blood rained out of the two creatures, soaking the whole area in hot fluids, so much that I felt the air temperature change around me.

Something loosened in Gobthulu, and the albramjeeër ripped free. A huge chunk of gobthulu flesh and pieces of gobthulu bones came with it.

Gobthulu roared into the night, falling forward on its knees.

Both creatures looked done. So much blood came out of either one of them. They were exhausted and on the edge of death.

Then Gobthulu surged forward, grabbed one of the albramjeeër’s outside horns with one hand, and brought the other hand down in a fist on the end fo the horn. The horn severed with an ear-shattering crack, and in a smooth motion, Gobthulu stabbed the horn into the upper neck of the albramjeeër.

It was over in that instant. The horn punctured something within the albramjeeër and its legs buckled. Its huge body smashed against the ground, very firmly dead.

Gobthulu seemed to smile and then started laughing. It sat down, then laid down, stretching its arms out. Laughing up at the sky.

Stupid thing thought it was over.

86

My heart had gone cold, and my entire body filled with rage.

Someone I loved had just been killed while trying to protect me.

That shit just doesn’t fly.

The echoes of Gobthulu’s laughter seemed to hit me with physical force, making me grit my teeth so hard I thought they were going to crack.

My feet moved my body toward the impossibly large goblin before I knew what the rest of me was doing.

One foot in front of the other, with an axe in my hand.

I climbed over a dead human wearing the Coggeshall wyrm armor, and I felt an extra twinge of remorse. It was nothing, though, compared to the cold fire from the albramjeeër’s passing.

The albramjeeër bite wound was right in front of me, and I now realized where my feet were taking me.

Where I did best.

Inside.

I climbed right into the albramjeeër bite.

The gobthulu went rigid. It could feel me.

Especially when I started chopping my way through the remains of his organs, heading north, toward the spot I’d believed I’d find the goblin’s heart.

If it had a heart.

Spoiler alert: it did.

The Gobthulu tried to fight back, but there was nothing it could do. I just kept chopping.

The heart was big, and tough. A lump of muscle bigger than some apartments I’ve lived in.

But note the past tense.

It was not big when I was done with it.

Nor, really, was it a heart.

I reduced it to just a bunch of lumps of flesh near each other.

Gobthulu was still. Its blood, no longer pumped by the heart, just leaked out of the copious wounds in its impossibly large body.

I left the axe buried in the ruins of cardiac muscle, and walked out into the cold night, my heart feeling about as empty as Gobthulu’s.

My brain knew my feelings were being manipulated by magic, but the pain of losing the albramjeeër was visceral and horrible.

I walked to the albramjeeër’s head and knelt down. I pet its fur. I whispered it my secrets. And I did my best to just let it go. To let it all go.

87

That’s where the Coggeshall survivors found me, once they were brave enough to come outside into the eerie silence that followed the day-long battle-massacre.

Bassacre?

Gobthulu had done an impressive job smashing in Coggeshall, but it seemed MountainHome had done an equally impressive job holding up to Gobthulu. The walls surrounding MountainHome were basically just piles of stone in a roughly rectangular shape. Our two gatehouse were gone, the tunnel was blocked, and the only tree left standing was the brownie’s tree, though even that appeared to have seen much better days. It had just a fraction of its leaves left, most of its branches were gone, and there were some telltale tooth marks on the trunk telling anyone who was curious that the ginormous goblin god thing had not found the tree particularly tasty.

As soon as I checked my notifications, of which there were plenty, I got the good news that, at the least, we didn’t have to worry about being dropped down a holding peg:

* * *

Notice: Your followers now constitute more than twenty-five percent of the total population of your holding.

* * *

And the other potential holding had been withdrawn. We were the only one in the area. So, you know, had that going for me.

Then there were the death notices. And more death notices. And more. There were so many death notices that it was a practically endless scroll. I felt a certain wave of revulsion wash over me, seeing the sheer number of souls I’d sent elsewhere in my blood frenzy. By the end, all the goblins I killed amounted to a single experience point.

It was the last notification, of course, was the only one really worth mentioning.

* * *

GG! You’ve killed Gobthulu (lvl 189 Unique Titanic Goblinoid Elder God).

You’ve earned 90,000 XP! What a mighty hero you are.

* * *

And that XP, plus everything I managed to get from all the other wanton slaughter, pushed me up a few levels.

* * *

Huzzah! Against all odds, you have reached Level 31! You receive the ability: Need A Weapon? When unarmed, you will often find an unexpected weapon close at hand. Dare to believe you can survive, and achieve greatness. Or don’t.

* * *

Huzzah! Against all odds, you have reached Level 32! You receive the ability: Durable. Your skin serves as a first line of defense. Dare to believe you can survive, and achieve greatness. Or don’t.

* * *

Huzzah! Against all odds, you have reached Level 33! You receive the ability: Keep On Cutting. When you manage to slice through a limb, neck, or any portion of a body, your attack will not lose speed or momentum, and your next attack will do full damage. Dare to believe you can survive, and achieve greatness. Or don’t.

* * *

Huzzah! Against all odds, you have reached Level 34! You receive the ability: Savage Attacker. Forget clean cuts, your attacks do more savage damage. Dare to believe you can survive, and achieve greatness. Or don’t.

* * *

So that was pretty cool. The new abilities seemed useful, which was more than I could say for what I got in my twenties.

It seemed the war also gave me a fair number of skill upgrades: swords, shield, spears, axes, and internal monster butchering all went up at least by five.

And somehow Battle Frenzy changed to Advanced Battle Frenzy.

* * *

Hey-ho, let’s go! You’ve enhanced an ability: ADVANCED BATTLE FRENZY. Twice per day, you are able to enter a frenzied state where damage dealt is tripled and damage received is halved until you are out of combat. Be aware, in this state, you cannot distinguish friend from foe and will attack anything you perceive.

* * *

So I could use it more, but it was more dangerous.

And, unsurprisingly, I further enhanced my goblin-slaying indicium.

* * *

Slayer: Goblinbane, Scourge of Goblins - Congratulations on the slaughter. Goblins of all stripe fear you and whisper your name in the dark. You gain significantly more XP for killing goblins, you do bonus visceral damage to goblins, greater chance for dismemberment and brutality when killing goblins. Goblins are likely to flee rather than flight. It is possible goblins will worship you instead of fear you.

* * *

We had a few long days of brutal work. Butchering and disposing of corpses is no fun in the best of circumstances, and even less so when the corpses are building sized. We dealt with a mixture of hardcore demolition, unprecedented amounts of skinning, and then managing the endless amounts of vomit from those wanting to help but unable to keep their shit together.

In the end, over my rather mild objections, Gobthulu’s skull was boiled whole, cleaned, and then mounted in the great hall, high above the throne.

* * *

The Holding of Coggeshall has gained a trophy: Skull of Gobthulu

Trophy Type: Mounted Head

Trophy Class: Unique, Dangerous, Other

Location: Great Hall

Description: The boiled and polished skull of the Gobthulu, mounted from steel chains attached to granite.

Effects: Bonus to holding morale. Penalties to enemy morale. Double penalties to enemy goblinoid morale.

* * *

The rest of the vile gobthulu went to the farms. Hopefully to be worm food or something equally ignominious.

As for our savior, the albramjeeër, well, I made sure it got better treatment. Our tanners took the hide to see if it could serve as leather. I felt a little weird about it, but I told myself that if the albramjeeër cared about me as much as I thought it did, it would want to be as useful as possible. We buried the heart, head, and horns near the brownie tree, following the directions of Bear and the brownie chief, Flint Frostycliff. Then we held a small ceremony that was mostly me definitely not crying. The next day, we found a small white tree pushing through the snow.

The wounded continued to fill up the hospital, the goblin poison and the lizard bites managing to do a better job of hurting Coggeshall than the goblins did.

Four days after the battle, when we were still all very much licking our wounds, Fritz returned, looking hale and hearty. One of the few of us who’d seen combat and came through unscathed. But it was his return which seemed to indicate to everyone that things were going to be okay.

On the fifth day, we had our first council meeting, and the situation became clearer.

We were low on troops. The Legion had less than a hundred soldiers without any form of injury. On paper, Coggeshall had a larger army, but the vast bulk of that was new recruits. Lots of centaurs happy to play with shields. And an increasing number of kobolds seemed eager to fight anyone and everyone.

We were also low on councillors. Lee and Baltu were still healing, albeit in their quarters instead of the hospital. Minor win there. Nathalie was still in the hospital, but her prospects, even with the magical healing available, seemed grim. Thanks to me, Czubakowski was fighting an awful infection, one that nearly anyone involved with the lizard combat also had, but since my chancellor was among the sick, in the hospital and getting worse day by day, all I really knew is that though the healers were working overtime to prevent that infection from spreading, there were plenty of people getting very ill.

There was a lot of busy work in those days as well. Speaking to those who’d lost loved ones. Giving hope to those who saw such destruction. Organizing prinkies to shovel the bloody snow out of sight. Pulling out trunks and hauling wood. Gathering up all the bits of metal from all the dead bodies and delivering those to be smelted down into ingots. And, also helping pull stone blocks out of the tunnel as we tried to dig through the magically burned rock. Apparently, the goblins had had some really good magic, something that hardened the rock after melting it, making it significantly harder to either magic through or mine through, so Harmut was actually putting a curve in place because it’d be easier to dig a whole new section of tunnel than try and repair the old one. Plus, it’d make it harder for an army to come through with any speed.

Work, work, work, all day long. But things were getting done. There was just a feeling of emptiness inside, something that I hadn’t felt in a while. I wanted to tell myself it was just the after-effects of the taming ball, that it had made me love the albramjeeër as much as it had me. But I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more going on.

Finally, somewhere in there, I found myself standing next to the river, watching the water flow under the ice.

I could feel someone walking up next to me before anything was said, the feet were small enough I wasn’t worried, though.

“The goblins,” came the soft voice of Baltu, “did not act like goblins.”

I looked over to see Baltu staring at the water’s movement.

“There was more strategy,” he continued. “Planning.”

“And the thing they summoned ate more of them than it did of us.”

“Well,” Baltu said with just the hint of a smile, “that is more expected of goblins.”

“I feel like you’re trying to tell me something without just telling me something. Do you think someone was working with the goblins?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Who could that be?”

“That I cannot answer.”

“Are you telling me for a reason?”

“This war is not over because you have not finished it.”

“By finish it, you mean—“

“Find and kill whomever declared war upon you first.”

“You want me to go hunt down the goblin king that did this—“

“I want you to hunt down whatever being caused this desolation. Or it will, inevitably, happen once again.”

“He is right,” another voice said.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Hetsetsa standing there. Ragnar and Skeld were behind her. And Arno and Yuri behind them. The rest of the council still standing spread out in the background.

“Is this an intervention?” I asked.

“It is the culmination of discussions which took place while you were otherwise occupied,” Hetsetsa said.

“I’ve been working with you guys—“

“We, your followers, come to ask you to complete a quest.”

“Is that possible—“ I started, but then the quest popped up.

* * *

You have been offered a quest:

Complete Destruction I

Find and destroy those responsible for the Night Goblin - Coggeshall War.

Reward for success: Unknown

Penalty for failure (or refusal): Severe morale penalties, increased goblin presence, loss of all morale penalties against goblins, loss of Goblinbane title and indicium.

Yes/No

* * *

“Well shit,” I said, reading over it, and, naturally, accepting the damn thing considering how severe the fucking penalties were. “Thing is, though, if I’m not here, who’s going to lead what little army we have left?”

“Army?” called out a voice from the river canyon. “Why do we need an army?”

A group of soldiers began climbing over the frozen falls and walking our direction.

Wian gave me a wave. “I brought you an army. What the fuck happened to the tunnel? And the fucking walls!”

* * *

The end... for now.

Ready for Book 12?

Oh boy, after this, I definitely am ready for the next adventure:

Wild, Wild, Quest - June 30th!

Just an FYI, The Bad Guys resumes August 12, 2021:

Back to One

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Author’s Note

April 24, 2021

Friends, Readers, and those who have somehow found their way here:

What a ride. This has been a rough go of it for me in terms of writing. It was hard, not gonna lie. I mean, let’s also take a moment for me to be real and say that this is the best job I’ve ever had and I love it. I love telling stories, and I’m straight up living a dream. It’s a far cry from the days when I was digging ditches or climbing towers or building steel or driving trucks or any of the myriad of bizarre gigs I took to feed myself. But there are days where the work is difficult. The words just don’t seem to want to come out of my brain onto the page. This book was hard to write, but I think it came out okay in the end, if a little late. Hopefully, I can put an end to that whole lateness thing. Fingers are crossed. Just not while I’m typing.

The next book is going to be written while I’m moving, leaving the West to head East for the wild winters of New England. I need more snow in my life. Well, more water, really. I’m a bit tired of drought conditions. I want to take long showers and have a green lawn. Hell, I want a lawn. Not a big one, just enough for me and the dog and the kid to run around like loons. But I still got to get there before I can loon-run. (Do loons run? (They must.))

And the world is still more than a bit nuts. I’m almost vaccinated, which means I can run around like a loon soon. Lots of my friends and family are still hurting, and I really hope I can find a way to help them more. If any of y’all need someone to chat with, know I’m here, and know that I care about each and every one of you. Except Kent. Kent can pound sand. (I’m really hoping there’s not a real Kent who reads these because I’d feel really bad… if your name is Kent and you read these, email me, I’ll hook you up with Mister Paul to throw a gift or two Montana’s way.) But, all kidding aside, if you need or want, shoot me an email; I’m happy to just listen.

Okay. Time to duck back into Vuldranni and do some questing. I’ve got some fun planned for this next book, and I’m itching to keep on keepin’ on with the whole writing thing. I feel like I’m back in the flow. Be well out there, and play nice with each other.

Smooches,

Eric

Also by Eric Ugland

The Bad Guys - Epic LitRPG/GameLit

Scamps & Scoundrels

Second Story Man

Skull and Thrones

War of the Posers

Seas the Day

High Gloom

Roseland - Private Investigator Mysteries

Series One

Series Two

Series Three

About the Author

Eric Ugland ran away from Seattle to join the circus. And then he came to his senses, and moved to Manhattan. Now he's a novelist in Oregon, trapped by trees and snow and bears. Mostly bears. SO MANY BEARS! You know, oddly enough, apparently a cougar lives along the creek that runs behind my house. How did that happen? Time to head back east to civilization…

The Good Guys and The Bad Guys are continuing LitRPG series I’m writing in the world of iNcarn8. They are discrete series, so you don’t have to read both, but if you do, you’ll get more from it. Join my reader group and be the first to know when new books come out.

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Ready for Book 12?

Author’s Note

Also by Eric Ugland

About the Author