Bright sunlight shone on the streets of Oriathria, reflecting off the weathered stone steps. The stone had become polished from use, and now, the sunlight hurt Taralim’s eyes. Reflections didn't bother him in the past. After fusing, only direct sunlight caused a problem.

  He squinted as he watched out the doorway. They were running late.

  Arcane purple flashed as Kurigaess appeared. She skidded across the doorway, pushing her way in without a word.

  Taralim had already prepared a spread, expecting the squad to be ravenous.

  Kurigaess slumped into a chair, grabbed a bread roll, and immediately tore into it.

  Taralim kept his eyes outside, squinting as he made out a hulking shape. “Where are the others?” he finally asked.

  “Eh?” Kurigaess looked over her shoulder. “Zetyrth is right there.”

  Taralim took an extra step away from the door as the berserker entered.

  Zetyrth took a look at her surroundings, then sat quietly across the table from Kurigaess. Her eyes looked right through Taralim, also watching the door.

  He knew she was smart.

  Taralim had specifically built the squad’s home to only have a single entrance. It was impossible to infiltrate, even from the best umbras and assassins. He waited another moment, watching for any sign of the rest of the squad.

  There had to be a reason they were late.

  His people were never late.

  He gave Oriathria one more look before joining the others at the table.

  “Is this what you do here? You eat?” Zetyrth asked. She hadn’t touched any food as she sat patiently. The berserker was a huge woman who had earned every point of her strength from weights and training. Her combat experience was limited compared to his squad, especially compared to the one she replaced, but he wasn’t worried about that in the slightest. She was more than capable.

  Her armor was polished and clean, but not so perfect that it would stand out in a crowd. With her helmet off, her curly hair poofed out. As always, she had her twin hammers hanging from her belt.

  Across the table, Kurigaess continued eating without a break. Her face was barely visible under the brim of her hat, but what he could see was covered in small crumbs. How a grown adult was such a messy eater was beyond him.

  Kurigaess looked over, locking her violet eyes onto Taralim’s. “Rullunth is coming.”

  “You say that now?” Taralim quickly scanned the entire base. It was clean, but not as clean as it could be. “Why?”

  “Something about the Vekuborg maybe? I only overheard something when I was getting my sword sharpened.”

  Why a wizard needed a sword was a constant mystery to Taralim. He wasn’t going to ask again, especially after seeing her use it in the past.

  “Clean yourself up,” he said.

  Kurigaess wiped the crumbs off her chin, which deposited them onto her lap. The wizard was a veteran with almost as much experience as he had. Her fusion was foolish, but it had given her a few extra abilities he found interesting.

  She wore her wide-brimmed purple hat with a point. Her whole outfit matched, as it always did. Being a matching set from the Forest gave it extra properties that she had never let Taralim examine. He was jealous, but he didn’t have the time to constantly repeat the Great Forest.

  Kurigaess took another bite, wiped her face, then opened her mouth to speak.

  Long before she could form any words, Taralim was at the door, bowing. “General Rullunth.”

  “At ease.” The old general of the Unity Force was a kind man. Kind enough that he shouldn’t have any association with Taralim’s squad. He brushed gray hair from his eyes and gestured toward the table. “Take a seat.”

  Taralim subtly looked past the general at the rest of his squad. They all looked terrified. Sussuphon and Erlianeth hurried to their seats without a word, only nodding silently to Taralim.

  The hunter and the entertainer settled in beside Kurigaess, leaving the seat beside Zetyrth open. Taralim teleported over and took a seat.

  Rullunth stood at the head of the table, picked up a bread roll, ran his thumb over it, and set it back on the pile. “Your intel mission is canceled,” he said in a gruff voice. “The Harmony Unit reached out after collaborating with the Golden Bulls in an investigation.” Rullunth adjusted his collar and took a deep breath. “Isaak Agapov was murdered in Nagyati.”

  Taralim kept his face steady. Murdering a 4 Shard Hero was no easy feat, and murdering Isaak was impossible. He was one of the smartest heroes Taralim had ever met. “Who are the suspects?”

  “No suspects.” Rullunth leaned heavily on his hands. “There were two. Chorsay Eoghet.”

  Taralim’s face cracked, just slightly. He couldn’t hold back the smile. Finally, that old bastard would meet his fate. “You said two.”

  Rullunth took a moment, then met Taralim’s eyes. “Vondaire Faikel.”

  “Impossible,” Zetyrth said quietly. Her index was already open. “A 2 Shard and 1 Shard hero couldn’t possibly beat Isaak Agapov.”

  Everyone but Taralim turned to her.

  Taralim let the smile fade. “You obviously haven’t met Vondaire Faikel.”

  Kurigaess lifted her head just enough for her eyes to shine under the wide brim. “A bounty?”

  “No,” Rullunth said. “Nothing to bring in outsiders. A warrant for their arrests was issued to every military in Verdantallis. As far as we know, they are hiding in Althowin Alegarra’s compound in Vraxridge. The Freedom Corps is refusing to invade the city, but will assist anywhere else in their borders.”

  “The Freedom Corps are cowards,” Taralim said.

  “Althowin Alegarra recently detonated an explosive that would have killed every person in Oriathria,” Rullunth said without hesitation or emotion. “She simultaneously defeated Egnatia Lucan, Voolyn Eskitorra, Olena Vasiliev, Nastya Sidorov, and Zevvrin Kerekes.” Rullunth leaned forward and looked at the other. “Let me make it clear. You are not allowed in Vraxridge. Make use of your contacts. Verify the location of both heroes.”

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  “Alive?” Taralim asked.

  “Chorsay.” Rullunth picked up the same bread roll as before and ran his thumb over the crust. “You don’t let Vondaire say a single word.”

  Taralim finally smirked. “Yes, sir.”

  Rullunth looked around the base, scowled, and walked out with the bread roll.

  Everyone waited silently until Taralim teleported to the door and shut it, leaving only his squad remaining.

  “You think he actually did it?” Kurigaess asked.

  “Chorsay is stronger than he looks,” Taralim said. He grabbed a map and waited a moment as Sussuphon moved the bowls of food. As soon as there was room, Taralim unrolled the map of Verdantallis. “Vondaire won’t stay in one place. He has no interest in waiting around. He will be heading to a tower if he hasn’t already reached one. Use every contact you know. Ask them to find any information on an umbra with spectral eyes.”

  “And Chorsay?” Kurigaess asked.

  “He’ll need to be baited out of Vraxridge. Erlianeth?”

  The entertainer had a notebook out. “I’ll dig. Permission to head to Atrevaar?”

  “Granted.”

  The entertainer took a few pieces of food, nodded to the others, and rushed out, heading toward the portal circle.

  Taralim circled Vraxridge on the map. He crossed out the Ocean Dungeon outside Minolitana Prima. That left five other possibilities for Vondaire. He wouldn’t be foolish enough to go to the Great Forest. Not until he absolutely had to.

  “If he fought in Nagyati, would Vondaire be in the Fortress?” Zetyrth asked.

  “For a normal person, I would say yes. But Vondaire will be covering his trail. Even his friends likely aren’t aware of where he went.” Taralim ran his hand over the map, hovering for a moment by each tower.

  “The goblin went to the Fortress,” Sussuphon said. “Everyone is talking about it. They say he appeared outside like a storm because he was running so fast.”

  “Was he with anyone?” Taralim asked.

  “The Maimed Magus.”

  Taralim made a noise. “Useless. We won’t reach them in the Fortress. Focus on Vondaire. Meet at the portals tonight with information from your contacts. Any umbra with spectral eyes.”

  The other three nodded, grabbed some food scraps, and headed out, leaving Taralim alone. He stared at the messy table. Some crumbs had spilled across the map.

  Vondaire would have cleaned up after himself before he left. He would have cleaned up after the whole squad.

  Taralim looked outside and winced at the sunlight.

  Where had the sneaky bastard gone?

  ***

  Green specter guts slid down the walls, gathering in thick clumps on the checkerboard tiles. The kitchen was a hazardous environment that felt nearly impossible to navigate. There was too much slime through the entire room.

  Shade poked at things as they passed, unafraid of taking any apparition damage. His mana was already gone, and he didn’t take damage the same way other heroes did, so Owin saw no harm in letting the skeleton touch basically everything in the kitchen.

  Some green slime dripped from Shade’s jaw. He didn’t say anything before, during, or after his attempt at tasting the specter. He simply wiped it off and flicked it away.

  “There is certainly a chest back here,” Shade finally said, gesturing to the door at the end of the kitchen. Between them and the door was a massive cauldron that overflowed with green smoke. Wherever the smoke touched, slime appeared.

  Owin wasn’t aware of the origin of specters. Where they came from was of no concern. He would continue killing them whenever he needed to. Still, he stopped beside the cauldron and stared into the green smoke. The lamps on the walls shining through the smoke had created most of the green glow they had seen before.

  “What do you think it is?” Owin asked.

  “Soup.” Shade leaned his free hand on the lip and hung his head over the bubbling liquid. “I assume it’s some kind of poison.”

  Owin scowled as the green smoke drifted over him.

  “If I was an alchemist, I might be able to figure it out. But, alas, here I am as the most powerful person in this entire Fortress, stuck as a magus.” Shade poked a gloved finger into the liquid and pulled it out quickly as the leather sizzled. “Oh.”

  “Am I going to die?” Owin asked.

  “Eh.” Shade took a step back, grabbed Owin’s shoulders, and pushed him on. “Maybe better not to find out. Let it be a surprise. The worst part of dying is knowing it’s coming.”

  The door in the back of the kitchen was glued shut with all the slime splattered across the wood. Shade planted his feet against the wall and yanked again and again on the handle. It didn’t budge in the slightest. After he started threatening the door with spells, Owin dragged the skeleton away.

  He took the Thunderstrike Maul from Shade and smashed the door with little effort. Instead of shattering like a wooden door normally would, the door crumpled in a damp, water-logged heap.

  Owin passed the hammer back and crawled over the wreckage into the next room. He stopped as soon as he entered, turned, and left. “I’m not going in there.”

  “What about the treasure?” Shade nearly tripped over the broken door as he entered the pantry. Rotten foods covered every shelf. Green slime dripped from the shelves, splattering on the floor.

  “Did you find any treasure?”

  Shade walked back out and stared with his empty eyes. “You think you’re funny.”

  “Do I?”

  Shade’s eye sockets narrowed. “Oh, a clever little goblin. I see how it is. I am now officially declaring a war. A war of bone and goblin.”

  Owin started walking back through the kitchen. Even if the green smoke wasn’t doing any visible damage, he didn’t want to stand in it any longer than necessary. “I’m not going to fight you, Shade.”

  “I didn’t mean a physical fight!” Shade shouted. “A battle of wits. A fight of the minds.”

  “You don’t have a brain.” Owin waved his hand in front of his face, helping to dissipate the last of the cauldron’s smoke. “How are we going to do that?”

  “It’s embarrassing, isn’t it?”

  Owin stopped at the door to the kitchen, happy to take a breath that smelled and tasted like anything other than rotting food and whatever weird scent the shapeless specter had left behind.

  “What’s embarrassing?” Owin asked as Shade left the kitchen.

  The skeleton kicked his foot, sending a chunk of slime flying through the air. “How much smarter I am when I don’t even have a brain.”

  “I don’t think I can get embarrassed. Maybe it’s a goblin thing.”

  Shade crouched to Owin’s height. “We both know that isn’t true. I’ve seen more than a hint of shame before.”

  Owin pressed his lips together.

  “It’s a normal thing. I think. Everyone feels overwhelming amounts of shame for just about every little thing they do. Right?”

  Owin raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” Shade stood and hefted the hammer onto his shoulder. He crept to the corner and looked around. “Looks like most of those elves killed each other. Do you want to go kick their corpses or should we go through that weird looking door?”

  The rebels and whoever they were fighting really did kill each other. A few were still living, but barely. An elf in full armor looked at Owin and reached out a hand, mouthing something before he collapsed into a pool of his own blood.

  “Huh.”

  “I say door,” Shade said, unphased by the mob’s death.

  Owin stared for a moment longer. “Yeah. Okay. Why do you think the elves are killing each other?”

  “Oh, no. Don’t do that. Not allowed.” Shade put his hand on top of Owin’s head and tried guiding him to the door across the hall. “Don’t let yourself get sucked into this poorly written story. Diphinadra put some bullshit together about a rebellion in this castle but couldn’t be bothered to give the characters names. No. Not allowed. If you want a real story, you need to ask an entertainer. They write poetry, you know.”

  “I didn’t know. I also don’t know what poetry is.” Owin finally let himself get dragged through the hall until they reached an ornate door.

  “It’s words, but from the soul. Poetry is the true pinnacle of human expression, and as a skeleton and a goblin, we absolutely know more than any humans do about human expression.”

  “I’m confused, Shade.”

  “Oh, aren’t we all? What a world we live in. Such horrors. Such misery. Such poetry.”