"Have you experienced incontinence?" Viessa asked. "There's no need to be embarrassed if a demon's the one doing it."

  "No, goddamnit. It's not a demon. It's some kind of legendary void monster... Jag'off gave me a second hand explanation. Truthfully, I don't even know if we should be discussing it." I leaned back in an uncomfortable iron chair in Hanover's muggy workshop, kicking my feet up on the pile of our gold bars. "He may be a talented blacksmith, but he's a shit carpenter."

  We had arrived in Ingcaster by late morning, and by early afternoon made it through the queue on the Ingcaster Beltway and into the Merchant's Promenade. We also stopped by the first trading post we saw and traded-in Lambert's crossbow, which turned out to be a valuable model for a decent amount of store credit. We immediately used it on the essentials, new cloaks, and a few low-profile, lightweight outfits for Viessa.

  Afterwards, we let ourselves into Hanover's scrapyard. I put on the Grimstone mask and knocked on the backdoor to his storefront. Without wasting time, he closed-up shop early and left to arrange the exchange.

  "An out of body experience where you watched yourself vomit void essence sounds like a possession."

  "I have it on good authority, I'm not possessed."

  "Whose authority?"

  A literal hell hound.

  "Maybe I'll introduce you to him sometime. Do you like dogs?"

  Viessa sighed. "You speak in such roundabout ways. Abstract and obtuse."

  Fayador's existence had been one of the very few details I had left out of my tell-all summary, figuring the demon dog was a bridge too far for a devout elf.

  "Does possession explain my shadow opening a hungry-hungry-hippo portal to hell?"

  Stumped, the elf turned her eyes to the bars of gold then back to me, stealing a move straight from my playbook by changing the subject. "You keep putting off the discussion I wish to have."

  "There was plenty of time to chat on the ride back."

  "This is not a conversation that can be held on horseback."

  I shrugged. "Then speak now. Hanover said he'd be gone for a few hours while he sets up tonight's deal."

  "It's a lengthy discussion that will require time spent with books, notes, and math. Preferably it will take place in a classroom or another comparable setting."

  "Oh, kill me now."

  "It will have to wait until you fulfill your divine quest. We should be on our way to the Silverlight Plains. Not here, waiting."

  The elf groaned, threw her head back and sucked in a deep breath through her new mesh face guard. Her cloak was charcoal grey, crafted from a silk blended fabric that hung in layered folds, blurring the contours of her frame.

  "I'm also concerned about the events you described in the raid."

  "I can't control what I have no understanding of. Have you forgotten I've only been here for a few weeks?"

  The elf shook her head. "I'm not referring to your shadow. Cyprus, you died and I was barely able to bring you back."

  "Thanks for that by the way."

  "I don't want your gratitude. I want you to stop being careless. You knew from the beginning they wanted you dead and still, you let them succeed."

  "What do you mean by I let them? I didn't see the bastard coming."

  "Is it overconfidence or a death wish? Onadell's existence is at stake along with the rest of the world. Stop acting with reckless abandon. When you recognize a threat, eliminate it. Honor your obligation like the divine duty it is. Anything else is blasphemous."

  Silence lingered in the wake of getting chewed out for my approach. Sure, I had gained another level and a serious boost in power, but at what cost?

  "Maybe you're right."

  "I know I am."

  In hindsight, I could have killed Westcott and his group the moment I saw them, then dealt with Nassir at a range. Even if Griffin applied Inversion Touch after the fact, he'd never have been able to put me in such an injured state by himself.

  Within the depths of my soul, I knew the real reason. I enjoyed the hunt. The moments where my enemies realized they were the prey was almost as satisfying as the kill itself.

  Now, because of that greedy urge, Westcott was alive and had joined Whitcomb in the category of loose-ends that needed tidying up.

  After a few long minutes of silence and deflating self-reflection, Viessa pointed a gloved finger at the gold. "Explaining such newfound wealth will be no easy feat."

  "Yes, I've given that some thought. Once it's exchanged into coins, I'll leave most of it with a proxy. See? I plan ahead more than you think."

  "A proxy? There's someone you trust?"

  "Somewhat. You've already met them, but this will be their ultimate test."

  "The towering brute and the little mustache man you met in the tower? You're mad. Take it in the woods and bury it. We'll need every coin we can get a hold of."

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  What's she planning?

  Before I could ask, the gate to Hammer and Hanover's scrapyard screeched open and I thought the blacksmith had returned early. Instead Garik and Veigan strolled into the scrapyard, their appearances altered once again.

  Veigan's hair had been buzzed down, and dyed bleach blond along with his eyebrows and fake mustache. The most significant change were his new platform boots which added an extra two inches of height. Actually , it was a good disguise.

  By contrast, Garikhemas resembled a hulking Marilyn Manson impersonator. His face and neck were smeared in chalky white makeup, lips and lone eye ringed in jet-black ink, like a brooding giant stumbling through a goth phase. All-around, it was a confusing look that stood out too much for my liking.

  "Boss, is that you? Veigan—I mean, Korragon are we in the right place?"

  "Yes." Veigan sighed as they approached the workshop's half-raised door. "There was no point in spending half of my emergency funds to have our new identities forged if you can't keep them straight. And what's with the creepy mask?"

  "Never mind that, what happened to Garik?"

  Veigan pulled his suntanned cloak back and took a half-bow. "I'm Korragon and this is Ignor'rant. I’ve done as you requested and developed our new identities."

  "But... Why does he look like that?"

  "You've never heard of the Kura Kari Gami? They're known worldwide as the strongest slave warriors money can buy. No one will dare approach me with him at my side."

  "You have me disguised as a slave?!" Garik gnashed his teeth, rubbing his fists together. "You told me they were Durotai's most elite warriors!"

  "It took hours for us to put that make-up on. Do you want to wash off all our effort?" Veigan asked.

  "Hmm... No."

  What has happened between them since we last spoke?

  Their dynamic seemed different.

  Are they tolerating each other?

  "Boss, please let me rip this fucker's head off," Garik begged with his hands clasped together. "I yearn to wash my hands in his blood."

  "No, you're both assets."

  The fact that Veigan still drew breath was all the proof I needed to trust Garikhemas. That and the unwavering gleam in his eyes, his grin spreading too wide.

  A true believer. One who was still unaware of my true cause.

  "Although, his backstory is a bit problematic,” I said.

  "Too late, the documents have been produced." Veigan reached into his cloak, retrieved two parchment packets and passed them over. "A role where he's unable to speak is crucial for our covers."

  "You need papers in Ingcaster? All I have is my guild ID."

  "Not if you only wish to serve. To buy land, invest, or operate a business you need legitimacy."

  "These will hold up under an official's examination?" I skimmed through the documents before passing them back.

  "Where do you think I got them from? In Ingcaster, coin is legitimacy. When this is all over maybe I'll open my own tavern or... Can you take that mask off? It's making you more unnerving than usual."

  "No, I'm quite comfortable."

  I preferred the cold barrier between us.

  "He might be an unquestioning sycophant. But I need clarity. Cyprus, what do you want and why must I be involved?"

  "You're alive for two reasons. One, your spells will be of great use. More importantly, I want to find out if you, Veigan Desmond, can redeem your soul."

  Veigan jolted back like he'd stabbed a fork into a toaster. Then his demeanor sank, drowning in sadness.

  "Desmond? The noble family behind the Sentinel Beverage Company?" Garik's eyes transitioned into suspicious slits. "Harnessing nepotism for a high position in a scummy outfit like Black Diamond? I gather more hate for you with each passing day."

  I waited for Veigan's usual quick witted rebuttal. Instead he took the blow on the chin, eyes fixated at my feet.

  I didn't mean to invoke any feeling besides fear.

  "You can't know that. No one knows that," he glanced up, fighting back tears.

  Garik went wide-eyed and slack jawed in silent shock.

  Veigan breathed deep, and wiped the welling tears, not allowing even one to escape the corner of his eyes.

  "Father—my lordship wished for me to join the Royal Guard's Mage Battle Corps to learn and specialize in combat oriented spells to support my brothers in battle. When I refused, he disowned me and relieved me of my surname. I was only 12 at the time."

  Veigan turned and spat, a weary smirk sagged underneath the weight of aged pain. "Cherished for 12 years only to be tossed out like trash because I didn't want to join my brothers on a battlefield. One of whom tried to kill me on three separate occasions. Can you fathom that?"

  Garik crossed his arms and bowed his head in respect. "No, I can't. My mother and father loved me very much. At least until the day their heads were chopped off. I'm sorry you went through such hardship."

  He patted Veigan's shoulder until the mage swatted his hand away.

  "Stop it, your pity is almost as disturbing as his mask." Veigan tilted his head to the side. "How did you know my surname? It couldn't have been through soul scrying. I still can't detect a trace of your mana."

  "Boss has no mana in his blood," Garik said. "I told you he walked right through Barret's glyph lock."

  "I don't believe it. Mana runs through every living creature's blood. He must be suppressing it or a curse is. Regardless, I demand answers, Cyprus. What do you want?"

  "Systemic change from top to bottom. The oppressors, the corrupt, and those who prey on the weak will know my wrath. Soon they’ll fear their own shadows."

  Veigan burst out laughing. "You're describing almost all the nobles, influential factions, and powerful men who run Aclana."

  "I'm certain there's plenty of room in hell for each and every one of them."

  "Ah, so if I help you kill hundreds or thousands of people, that will make me a better person? Will it redeem me from the atrocities I've enabled? Morality is not a zero sum game."

  "According to the gods, it is."

  Flawed system or not, I'll take every advantage karma provides.

  "Fuck me. There's crazy, and then there's you. I want no part in this." Veigan turned to Garik, looking for his agreement.

  Instead he found the brute steadily nodding along, enchanted by my short speech. "Little one, I promise you'll forever hold regret for passing up this opportunity."

  "The opportunity to commit treason?" Veigan held his head in his hands. "Why is this happening to me?"

  "You refuse?"

  "Like I have a choice."

  "That's the spirit," I said, as I grabbed an iron rivet from the workbench and tossed it to Veigan. "Apply your GPS—I mean tracking magic to that rivet. Viessa and I will be departing to the Silverlight Plains soon. We'll bury the rivet with 8,000 or so gold coins south of Ingcaster. Dig it up and use the money sparingly until we next meet."

  Despite his reservations, he complied, infusing the rivet with his mana before handing it back. Somehow I needed him fully onboard this train that was destined to derail.

  Killing him would've been a trivial matter, but the idea didn't sit well with me, -5000 karma or not. He wasn't a cold blooded killer for hire, but a byproduct of Aclana's society as a whole.

  He needs more time. Some convincing.

  A demonstration.

  Eyeing the gold settled his nerves, if only momentarily. "This will aid in establishing our cover identities. Have you heard more from the Gilded Boar regarding Black Diamond? Has my name come up?"

  "You haven't been mentioned. The guild negotiated with Black Diamond on my behalf to prevent an all-out war. Instead, I'll be competing in the tournament being held during the incoming king's inauguration."

  "Good," Veigan smiled and I could tell exactly who he'd be rooting for.

  I couldn't blame him. Half the time I sounded downright insane to myself, too. However, neither of them had seen my true capabilities. After Viessa and I visited the heart of the Silverlight Plains and completed the quest, that would change.

  "When we return we'll meet again. I suggest next time, you both wear raincoats.”