The swamp squelched under my feet. Mosquitoes buzzed as they always did. Phisto padded along looking miserable. Vasil hopped beside me, occasionally adjusting his tiny crown.

  "So," I said. "We’re going to that drowned cathedral. If nobody knows it's there, it will be the perfect place to plan my next move."

  I could have sworn I saw Vasil smile.

  Vasil was quiet for a moment. "Do you want to know about the job first, or the Church?"

  "Church," I said. "I need to know how much trouble I'm in."

  "Alright. What you just encountered was a Purge Squad. Or 'Detachment of Purification' if you want to be formal about it."

  Purge Squad. That sounded exactly like the kind of thing I wanted showing up at my door. (Not.)

  "They're elite witch-hunting teams. At least three members, often the same base composition, though there are variations." He counted on his webbed fingers. "A heavy hitter—usually a mage—plus a tank or bruiser, and a scriptor. The scriptor’s usually a kid who doesn’t even have a class yet."

  "What does a scriptor do?"

  "Records everything. Learns. Reports back." Vasil gave me a long look. "Which, by the way, was very clever of you to let him escape."

  “Why? Actually I know why, because it was intentional, but humor me, please.”

  “Two dead. One left shaking. Just enough to make them scramble. Just enough to bait the next squad. You want them to take you seriously. You want them to panic. You want them to come harder. Send stronger squads, so you can soak up the experience, take all their precious gear. "

  Vasil considered for a moment. "And seeing as you killed two elite hunters and humiliated the Church in the process... The Bishop won't handle this alone. He'll probably call for aid, or at least send word to someone. Possibly Archbishop Vladislav Visnievski. Definitely Grand Inquisitor Borys Kruczek. Maybe even King Boleswav himself."

  "Great," I muttered. "All going according to plan. So, what’s the Church about, anyway?"

  "The Church of Stvora is built around one central claim: Stvora is the Creator. The only god, officially. Everyone in Silesia worships him, or at least, they're supposed to. Anyone who worships a different god is branded a witch and executed."

  He paused. "Anyone who disagrees with anything the Church or the King says is branded a witch and executed as well. But let's focus on the god part."

  "So Stvora is just... the god of everything?" I asked.

  "Yep. All-seeing. All-knowing. All-powerful. The works." Vasil adjusted his crown. "And since he's the 'only' god, and everyone worships him, his power is immense. No other god could contest him even if they wanted to."

  I looked up at the sky and extended my middle finger. "Hey, Stvora! Can you see this?"

  I waited.

  Nothing happened. No lightning bolt. No divine smiting. Not even a light drizzle.

  "Guess he's not that all-seeing after all," I said, lowering my hand.

  Phisto sighed. "You're going to get us killed."

  I shrugged. "They're already trying to kill me. How much worse can it get? They can only kill me once, and so far they've done a pretty bad job at it. Anyway, that's enough about the Church. What about that job?"

  "Right." Vasil cleared his throat. "So when I said I was ruler, I should clarify—I was actually the King's advisor. But the King did what I said, so effectively I was running things. And everyone was happy. Except the Church, of course. They thought I had too much power. The Church wants all the power, you see, and they felt like they should be the sole advisor to the King. So they—"

  I kind of zoned out for a moment. Not on purpose. I just remembered I'd looted that dagger from the bwotnik's hoard and hadn't identified it yet. I pulled it out and cast [Artifact Index].

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  [Stabigail* - Dagger]

  Passive: Holy Flourish

  When unsheathed, the dagger momentarily emits a blinding white glow and releases a puff of glittery smoke accompanied by a dramatic choral note.

  +3 Dexterity

  Huh. The Dexterity bonus fit my build perfectly. The passive seemed... odd. But fine. I strapped it on. I figured I should know what Holy Flourish actually meant so I pulled out the dagger to test it.

  A burst of white light flashed directly into my face. The dagger released a full-volume choir note—like a hundred voices singing at once, condensed into one ear-splitting second. Glitter exploded into the air.

  I flinched, nearly dropped it, and stood there blinking spots out of my eyes for the next ten seconds.

  "WHAT THE—" Phisto yowled, fur standing on end.

  Vasil had fallen on his back.

  I sheathed the dagger carefully. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

  "—and that's when they cursed me," Vasil finished from the mud. “What was that?”

  "Just that dagger I got from the bwotnik. Hold on a second."

  I pulled out the bracelet I'd also looted and cast [Artifact Index] on it.

  [Lucky Bracelet of the Luminary - Bracelet]

  4/4 charges of [Illuminate]. Recharges every twelve hours.

  +1 Luck

  I stared at it. One point of Luck. The bracelets from the tank gave me Barrier and Strength, which while not useful to my build, still more useful than Luck. I prefer skill over luck. Why take chances and hope you get lucky when you can simply be good?

  I considered tossing it into the swamp, but it weighed barely anything, so I stuffed it in my satchel instead. Maybe I could sell it later. Or give it to someone who actually invested in Luck for some reason.

  "Alright, very sad and all," I said, turning back to Vasil. "But you already told me you got cursed. I asked about the job, not your life story."

  Vasil got a serious look in his eyes. "I want you to kill the King and the Archbishop."

  I laughed. "No."

  "I can pay you a thousand gold."

  "What good is a thousand gold when I'm dead? They already want to kill me. Going after everyone at once seems pretty stupid, and I'm not suicidal."

  Vasil hopped closer. "So what is your goal in life? Just hide in the swamp and pick off Purge Squads?"

  "No. My goal is to get strong enough, build an army, and kill Archon Menekrates."

  "By hiding in a swamp?"

  I glared at him. "I feel like you're stuck on the 'hiding in the swamp' part for some reason. It’s called a strategic retreat. I’m doing this in order to plan my next move. Haven’t you been paying attention? Besides I need a base of operations."

  "Fair enough. What about this: I help you survive and get stronger. I was advisor to a king once. I can do the same for you. You need levels. You need an army. You need someone who knows how this kingdom works. That’s me. With me, your chances of survival go up exponentially. You might actually get strong enough to take on an Archon."

  His voice dropped. "Without me? You're blind. Strong, yes, but you don't know what's out here. You don't know anything about this place. On your own, you will slip up, and you will die."

  I scoffed. "I never slip up."

  "Hear him out, Hecate," Phisto said.

  I crossed my arms. "Fine. I'm listening."

  Vasil cleared his throat. "First, you need to stop thinking like a fugitive and start thinking like a warlord. You want to kill an Archon? You need power. Real power. Not just levels—influence, resources, people."

  He gestured back toward where we'd come from. "You already made your opening move, whether you meant to or not. You killed an elite Church squad. That's going to spread. People will hear about it. Some will be terrified. Others will be interested."

  "Interested in what?"

  "In someone who can stand up to the Church." Vasil hopped onto a rock. "The Church of Stvora controls everything in Silesia. They decide who's a witch and who isn't. Who lives and who burns. They've been doing it for centuries, and everyone's too afraid to do anything about it. But you? You just proved they can bleed."

  I frowned. "So what, you want me to start a rebellion?"

  "I want you to build a foundation," Vasil said. "You said you need a base of operations. Fine. That cathedral? Restore it. Make it defensible. Make it yours. Right now it's a ruin in a swamp nobody cares about. That's exactly what you need: somewhere off the map where you can grow stronger."

  "And how exactly do I 'restore' a half-drowned cathedral?"

  "You start small. Clear out whatever's living there. Secure the perimeter. Then you find people who need somewhere to go—refugees, deserters, anyone the Church has pushed too far. Give them shelter. Give them protection. In return, they work for you. Build your walls. Grow your food. Guard your borders."

  Phisto's ears twitched. "You're describing a settlement."

  "Sure," Vasil said. "Every soldier needs to eat. Every fortress needs builders. You can't fight the Church or an Archon alone. You need numbers. And numbers need infrastructure."

  I stared at him. "This sounds like a lot of work."

  "It is. But consider the alternative: running from town to town, hoping the next Purge Squad doesn't catch you by surprise. You want to kill Menekrates? You need to be more than just strong. You need to be powerful enough that even an Archon fears you."

  He hopped down from the rock. "I know this region. I know how to play politics. I know what steps you need to take. With my help, I promise you, you will become unstoppable."

  I looked at Phisto. He just flicked his tail.

  "And what do you get out of this?" I asked Vasil.

  "Revenge," he said simply. "You build an army strong enough to matter, and eventually you'll have to deal with the King and the Church whether you want to or not. When that day comes, I'll be there. And they'll pay for what they did to me."

  I considered it. He wasn’t wrong about me not knowing much about Silesia. If he really had advised the king, he was probably useful. And if not, I could always use him as a purse.

  "Alright," I said. "I'm in."

  Vasil nodded. "Good. Oh, and uh..." He hesitated. "There's something you should know about that cathedral."

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