V-8 Sewer

It always starts the same way: desperation. 

Desperation for revenge, desperation for money, for a new lease on life, to break free from who you were—be that because of a mistake or because you can't quite get out of that stink that clings to you. You know the stink. The stink of poverty, the stink of your parentage, your bloodline. The stink that comes with being called a bastard and being called the son of a traitor. Desperation. Desperation makes you give yourself to strange places and take ugly risks. And the Neath, they're always waiting, they're always watching for you, people like you, to take those risks.

You asked me how they managed to get their hooks in me? They always had those hooks in me. Without them, I would have never made it to Captain of the Guard. Without them, I would have never managed to pay off my father's debt. Yeah, I had the skills, was pretty good with a sword and plenty tough. Had a pretty rare Awareness-Deception Skill Fusion, too. 

But guess what? Half the kids in the academies are special. They don't make it to Guard because there's no one giving them that extra push, no one helping them cut through lines. And ultimately, they’re not desperate. They got the world in front of them. They’re not nobody—only becoming somebody because the Neath and the Brokers’ decided to make an investment.

I suppose they saw something special in me, too. No deal was done on the part of charity, sure. It wasn't my bloodline, though. It might be because they thought I'd be loyal—probably not, though. Probably the fact that they know they have me by the neck, and they know that I don't have any problems doing things that don't make other people sleep so well at night. Whatever the case.

Yeah, I did kill that one. No, I don't know what she did. No, I didn't know she was one of your informants. Yeah, I know what comes next. But let me tell you what you can expect from them, right? You can torture me. You can have your Psychomancers reach into my mind and rip every memory out of me, but it don't matter anymore. Because the moment I didn't check in, the moment one of their observers watched you guys pick me up, that's the moment their people made their move. Every speakeasy, hidden establishment, or whatever that's dealt with me has been relocated already.

The capital's a big place. There's plenty of abandoned buildings, plenty of gaps between the architecture. Now the ascendants, we say they're all powerful, but I don't think so. I know they're not, because the Dragon Brokers, they seem to have some kind of arrangement going with you guys. Which is why there are only two of you Inquisitors. Where's the rest of your squad, Master-Interrogator? Where's your torture kit? Where's your Psychomancer? Not here.

So I know what comes next. My name is not going into a file in the Inquisition's ledger. In fact, I don't think most of them know I'm even here. I think the guys who picked me up won't know that their efforts didn't mean shit for piss. I'm not leaving this room. In a few days, my body's gonna surface in some lake somewhere, or I'm gonna be killed in some kind of freak accident. That's what the report will finally say when it reaches the coroner's office.

Anyhow, you tell the Brokers "thanks for the life." Couldn't have done it without them. I guess this day was always coming. But loose ends are loose ends, am I right?

-Interview with Salt Guthrup, Former Captain of the Constabulary for the Rosehearth District of the Capital, Yellowstone Republic

V-8

Sewer

There were, in fact, a few casualties at the start of the school term. A group of prospective students, bound for the capital from Mount Verne, near the border between the Republic and the frozen wastes of Torontus, were ambushed by some Jotun raiders. The battle ensued, and though the party managed to repel the Jotun, a few students-to-be and their accompanying guardians were tragically slain.

Though they suffered losses, the party was from a battle-hardened region of the Republic, and they decided to continue on as they were a considerable way into their journey. More, they wished for the Auroral Council to witness their dead so that a proper response could be mustered against the northern brutes. The caravan continued on, arriving with their fallen fellows in tow.

The deceased were preserved by crude measures of Cryomancy, keeping them frozen and free of decay. And now they resided in a Royal Morgue of Archmortalis in the East Highvine district. In time, their surviving family would come to the capital to claim the remains themselves. Teleportation was not a possibility; considering these children were from Mount Verne, there was more than a little chance that whatever was cast from the capital to their frozen homeland would be intercepted by Jotun Jump Magi. 

And the bodies of the fallen had experienced brutality enough.

"Adam," Irons began, trying to push through the discomfort as he finished relaying the information. "I'm going to ask you to tell me something, and I'm going to hope that your answer is no. You're not going to do something Necromantic to the bodies, are you? And please tell me you don't have a Necromancy Skill either."

Adam stiffened for a moment. Irons closed his eyes. "Arrow," he groaned under his breath.

"I have the Necromancy Skill," Adam admitted. He straightened his back and tried not to wilt before the disappointed stare of his mentor. "But I'm not going to use it on the dead. I wouldn't. It's a level of foulness that I'll never be able to sink to. We’re not dragging a shadow of a deceased student back to do our bidding.”

"Then  what do you need a body for?" Irons asked.

"I’m the one that needs the body," Shiv said. "It's for the broken mask. If I want a Perfect Semblance, I need a body to copy it from. Are there any of the dead that are orphans or something? Because I don't really want to burn up a body that has a family waiting for it."

The captain grew even more disturbed. "I'm not certain. There were twelve slain in total. Eight of them were prospective students, children selected for their merits, combat or artistic and intellectual talents. Promising Pathbearers. I looked over the bodies and interviewed the survivors." Irons fell silent, and Shiv recognized the man to be someone of considerable empathy, despite his stoicism. "I don't like this," he said, "and I would be utterly against it, if it wasn't you asking."

He meant Adam, but Shiv thought a bit more persuasion was still in order. "Yeah, I know, I don't much felling like it either. I don't like the fact that my mask burns up bodies, and I don't like the fact that I'm probably going to have to steal the identity of a dead kid to get what I want done."

"Kid?" Adam asked, turning to gape at Shiv. "You're barely older than any of them. Well, maybe not older at all."

The Deathless winced. Right, he was still eighteen as well. He didn't really feel eighteen anymore, though. After all that bloodshed, he wasn't considering himself a boy. Wait, when did I ever consider myself a boy? Shiv paused as he ruminated on that. He was practically his own man the moment he left the orphanage. No one really cared for him aside from George, and with him making a living wage and supporting his own lifestyle, he had practically been a functional adult for nearly a decade by now.

"It's the best I can do," Shiv said. "The best play we can come up with right now has me operating on Academy grounds. I can't be doing anything in the open, and I can't be exposed by the system every time someone sees me. And the way I see it, you need my help just as much as I need yours. Especially since you’re rolling up against our gods.”

Irons's expression hardened as he regarded Shiv. "I don't know you. All I know is that you are Adam's companion and there is a considerable bond between you." He hesitated before he finished his statement. "But I also don’t know Lord Arrow anymore either. War changes a person. And if half of what you two say is true, then your allegiances… Who do you fight for?”

“We’re fighting for the ‘not letting the Ascendants get away with being bastards’ side of things,” Shiv began. “I’m fighting for my life, yeah. That’s true. But we were doing everything we could for Blackedge. You know who wasn’t? The Inquisition. They intercepted Slayers from Blackedge and tortured them. Killed some, too. They were preparing to sell an Animancy Core to an Abyssal Lord.”

The captain blinked twice, and Shiv drove into him harder. “Yeah, you heard me right,” Shiv growled. “Animancy Core. Inquisition. Our people.” Irons tried to look at Adam, but Shiv snarled. “Don’t look at him. Look at me. You know I’m not lying. You know something is wrong. You want proof? We can show the survivors. But you’re already looking at the ugly shit. You ran up against Daughter. And there’s no way back from that.”

“These are words,” Irons said. But he swallowed hard, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Anyone can speak words. Words are the first refuge of the deluded and treacherous.”

“My words are more than just sounds and wind,” Shiv said. “You can feel it. But I’m more than words, too. I’m the reason you aren’t dead.”

Shiv pressed. He folded his arms and looked Irons up and down. Psycho-Cartography told him to challenge the man, to provoke him into thinking a little deeper. "Listen, I respect you, Irons. I really do. You're trying to do right by one of your pupils, and you're trying to be a loyal citizen still. I can't judge that. Frankly, you're among the few not-pieces-of-shit I've met in the last few days—and trust me, that makes you platinum-tier in terms of company." He ignored the Educator's glare and kept going. "But you went up against Daughter. You fought an Ascendant. You got a sight of what they are, who they are. It doesn't really matter what you want now. They came for Melissa, and they're gonna come for you."

Irons betrayed nothing. The man's face was blank and hard. That stole another measure of respect from Shiv. Not everything needed a response. The Deathless was learning that point himself. Only when he was ready did Irons finally reply. "You might be right. Or you might be trying to turn me. You might be taking advantage of what I've learned. Even so, my loyalty is more than just faith. It's to the people that I've served, the people I've fought alongside."

"And I get that," Shiv said. "And I'd like to help you protect these people as well." The Deathless scoffed. "Look, I get the paranoia. I get that you don't like being here and this whole cloak and dagger bullshit thing that we have going. I get that figuring out one of your gods is a psychotic woman-child who uses orphans to channel the power of her soul is kinda fucked up. But right now, you and I only have so many choices. You can choose to do nothing, in which case, Melissa's definitely gonna die, or worse. And this thing you ran into, it's bigger than you. It's too much for one person to handle. Since it's looking like we might be stuck here for a bit, I'd say we can help each other. Because good man or not, you’re not a Legend. And you’re gonna need more power behind you if you want your student to survive at all.”

"You think you'll succeed where I did not?" Irons challenged.

Shiv shrugged. "Well, again, I am the one who gave Daughter that scar. You're alive because of me. And I did break out from the prison with Adam and some others. So. Yeah. Let’s face it, captain. We’re all here because we’re desperate.”

Sticks and Stones 56 > 57

The captain fell silent at that. He looked at Adam, and the Gate Lord simply nodded. A quiet sigh slipped out of Irons, and Shiv knew his grip was sinking in.

"Even if I go along with this," Irons said, "I can't get you into the morgue. I need specific identification to get in. They record everything on the registry there. It’s carefully monitored.”

"Oh, we probably have a few means for that problem," Custiel cut in.

"Getting into the morgue, well that's easy. We got plenty of people working there. But you're not going to the morgue first. If you want to do this, you're going to the Academy. We got people there too. More than just the two who are going to repair that mask of yours. Actually, that's where we stash a lot of our travelers, you know."

Irons's eyes suddenly snapped at the goblin. "What did you just say?"

"I mean, you guys got a lot of unused space there. Quite a few kids and plenty of faculty, but the Academy grounds are big. Practically a small city inside a city, if you ask me."

"Where?" Irons growled. "Who have you been hiding in my Academy?"

"Ah, ah, ah," the goblin wiggled a finger. "My job's already done enough. Besides, these guys are going to find out for themselves, and they're going to be assigned a liaison to make sure they don't end up telling nobody where we hide our special guests." Custiel leaned back in his chair. "The only reason this is working out is because you're going to be doing the Dragon Brokers some favors. And you're all part of the Neath now, too, if you're getting down and dirty. But I want to give it to you straight. You take up this deal, and there's going to be a ritual at some point. You're going to be putting a few skills up for insurance. No diving into the muck unstained. For any of us.”

That brought a beat of silence to everyone. But then Shiv regarded the Educator once more. “So. When’d you get tainted. And what skill did you put up for auction?”

The Forgotten Ascendant huffed, but said nothing.

“Big godsdamned favor, then,” Shiv muttered. “Let’s get on with this shit, then.”

***

With all that was happening across most of the capital, they couldn't just walk in through Phoenix Academy's front gates. But ultimately, they weren't going through the front door anyway. Everything the Neath did, it did under the skin. And Shiv knew enough about human biology to know that there were a great many other systems circulating beneath the epidermis. 

The circulatory system, for one. Blood surged along its channels and fueled the body. The architecture of a city was not so different. Buildings and streets were the skin, but connected to them were sewers, springs, and underfloor chains carrying mana. Spells needed to be directed from place to place. Water needed to be dispensed in every home for hydration and cleaning purposes. And from every home also came waste, rubbish, and biological waste.

That was how he discovered where the forger's den was. Though he'd been drawn across a series of brass pipes before finally being teleported into another section of the city altogether, he had expected himself to be under some kind of ordinary building, perhaps a residence or an even larger brewery. 

The truth was beyond his ability to suspect.

The moment they stepped out of the chamber, waves of oppressive heat washed over Shiv. It wasn't nearly extreme enough to cause him any harm, but Adam hissed, Irons tensed, and the goblin forger stifled a slight growl of discomfort. "I always hate doing this. I always hate coming out this way. This is your fault, you bastards. I could be getting moved through the pipes, but now my den’s getting burned. Everything’s gonna get stripped down.”

The air was so dry, Shiv felt his tongue shrivel. There was a faint shimmer in the air from the extreme temperatures passing through this place. Worse yet was the wailing whistle that constantly climbed and climbed. They weren't in a normal tunnel. The walls were made from some kind of heat-resistant material; the texture was rubbery and its coloring was pitch black. Even so, steam rose off from the sides, and Shiv guessed that the insides of the insulating matter had coolant stored within.

A small squad of Pathbearers were waiting for them as well. They were dressed in heat-resistant armor, pulsing waves of cold radiated forth from them, and they held their weapons high, lowering them only when Custiel gave the say-so. One among them was dense with Biomancy mana. 

They weren't dressed like the others. In fact, Shiv didn't even know what kind of being they were. They resembled a humanoid ant to some extent, but their face was mostly a slit with teeth running down the middle like a zipper. The rest of their body was chitinous as well, with several lashing antennae extended behind them. The strange creature stood amongst the other Pathbearers and made a series of hand signs using its forearms. It directed its silent language at Custiel, but the goblin just waved it off.

"Yeah, yeah, Reggie, I'm fine," Custiel said. "Came to an agreement with our friends here. Turns out everything was a bit of a misunderstanding."

Shiv could have said something, but the Educator let out a haughty hmph. At least she was going along with things for now. If she complained any further, he might've just gotten into a fight with her out of pure annoyance. He regarded the Pathbearers standing before him. Most of them were clad in full sets of nondescript adamantine armor. 

Adamantine wasn't cheap, but the armor also didn't fit on these path bearers. They were slow and sluggish, and the fear spilling out from them—-fueling Shiv with power—told him that they weren't seasoned warriors. Someone had spent a great deal of money supplying these path bearers, but their skills weren't up to snuff.

He suspected there might only be one master among them, and that was the ant-like creature in terms of Biomancy. The rest were merely Adepts, which told him one of two things. First, that these people didn't see much action and were simply a deterrent, more of a watchguard than actual warriors. Second was that they were a statement in and of themselves, because adamantine, as mentioned, wasn't cheap at all. If someone could supply someone with adamantine gear while you were still an Adept, that meant they were a good employer to work for.

Just then, the world outside rumbled with noise, and he felt the heat climb another few degrees. A groaning followed, and the walls around him began to gurgle with splashing fluid. "Where the hell are we?" he asked.

"Inside an incinerator," Custiel said. "Well, inside the coolant pipes of one of the incinerators meant to process waste for the capital. We're in the Sapphira district, so the big gun upstairs is constantly running, churning and burning all the stuff that people throw out."

"What? Are you serious?" He studied the goblin's features, trying to see if the Forger was shitting him. He really wasn't. Adam's eyes were aglow, and he was trying to confirm Custiel's words directly. The Gate Lord's mouth opened slightly.

"Broken moon, why do you have your business open here?"

"Because it's not like you can be a forger in the open, can you?" Custiel snapped. "Let me tell you, it took the Neath a good few years to find a way into the coolant pipes, locate a spot that was stable enough to build in, and start making some minor tweaks to the infrastructure to fit my establishment in. Oh, that, and they also had to rewire some of the pipes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to have a brief conversation with my partner here. Munson will see you guys moved to the Academy grounds. Won’t you, Munson?"

A low grunt came from one of the guards. He stepped forward, and though he was large, Shiv stood a bit larger. The Deathless regarded the armored man trying to size him up. Shiv lifted an eyebrow, and just then his notification loaded. Now all the guards were looking at him.

"Listen, if any of you are feeling greedy, and if you think you can take my life from me, just go for it. I won't even kill you if you try. I will, however, cut your arms and legs off with my frying pan, then I'll leave you like a bunch of nuggets on the ground. See how fast your Biomancer can heal you." A few of the guards responded with increased fear. Munson, meanwhile, continued staring at Shiv for a few seconds longer before waving for the rest of them to follow.

"Hold on," Shiv said. "We still got a few people in the wine cellar. They need to be coming with us, too."

"Do they now?" the Educator said, and Shiv caught her meaning.

"Yeah, they do," the Deathless deadpanned. "They helped us get out of the prison; we're helping them get out of this mess. We’re not dumping them like trash. Godsdamned… If I have a problem with one of them, I'm just gonna finish them off myself. None of this backhanded betrayal bullshit. If you have a problem with that, feel free to stop me physically. Seems to be the way the world works, anyway."

Unlike all the times before, the Deathless didn't get into a contest with the Educator. He simply marched back into the forger's den and went to the jetting pipe sticking out from the other side of the room. 

A few minutes later, the escaped prisoners, Solzimort, and all the orcs were across with Shiv, and they followed Munson as a rejoined party.

Munson was a man of few words, and Shiv was ultimately fine with that. He gave him a few minutes to observe the insides of the coolant system. As he looked up, he felt a faint presence brush against his Pyromancy. He guessed that was the core of the incinerator working somewhere above him. Quite a bit of power going through that too. Not nearly as much as a Hero—maybe a Master.

Not a bad place to hide a criminal enterprise, Shiv admitted to himself. The Pyromancy likely masked some of their activity, and ultimately it was a counterintuitive place to look. After all, who would be hiding inside of an incinerator?

Their walk was ultimately a short one. After moving through the rubbery tunnel for a few minutes, they arrived before an open cleft. It looked like someone had cut a gap in one of the walls, and between the separated material bubbled globules of murky white water. However, though the globules pulsated and burst, none of it spilled across the ground or flooded the inside of the cooling pipes. Munson grunted. Shiv shot the guard a look and left another temporal anchor in place in case he needed to conduct another escape.

He went across first. The moment he did, he felt a crushing sensation seize him. Once more, he reminded himself to relax. He stopped fighting it using his Shapeless Tides, and he was drawn across a new set of pipes before being teleported again. This time, it was harder to follow what was happening to him Hydrokinetically. 

He was moving fast, faster than ever before. As his travel speed alternated and the number of teleportations he experienced increased, Shiv began to suspect that the Neath had a team of Dimensionalists, Hydromancers, and path bearers with heroic tier awareness under their payroll. How else would they know where he was? How else would they be able to use their magic to surgically move him?

All of a sudden, he came to a halt. In that moment, he managed to get a feeling for the environment beside him. He was still in a set of pipes, he could tell that with his Hydromancy, but aside from that, there was a great deal of waste moving alongside him. Human waste. And some of that waste was gliding through him as well. A feeling of utter disgust coiled through Shiv as he guessed he was in the sewer system now. That was another place most people wouldn't look. Perhaps some smugglers had hideouts leading down from manholes, but how many of them were transported after being turned into part of the wastewater themselves?

My life's full of shitty first experiences, Shiv thought to himself, and a little chuckle followed. Yeah, literally shitty in this case.

The entire ordeal took around two hours, and for most of that time, Shiv moved fast in bursts of speed, his only companion human waste and his own thoughts. He looked forward to asking Adam how he enjoyed this trip, but for that moment Shiv preferred the solitude. It was a great deal for him to think about. 

Or not. 

Frankly, it had been a while since he had a chance to not think about anything, perhaps to just cook or prepare food. He was starting to go through what felt like withdrawals, and the faces of the dead, dying, and all the other horrible shit he dealt with recently kept flickering behind his eyes.

Can't believe I'm saying this, but being among flowing shit is kind of peaceful. At least the shit's not trying to kill me. He felt another particularly thick specimen of shit pass by him, a shell of undigested nuts dotting its exterior. How about you, friend? You actually my dad or something? You steal his mind just like Udraal stole my mom's? Am I a shit-baby too? Another near-delirious laugh passed through Shiv, and it became a shudder. Fuck me. What is my life?

But the Deathless got a hold of himself. My life's whatever I make of it. My life is whatever I do, whatever I decide. The hell with Udraal. The hell with the Educator. The hell with the Ascendants. I'm gonna keep trying to do what's right and I'm gonna try to win this game, whatever the hell this game even is. I'm not gonna just let them drag me around like I'm some kind of dog on a leash. I am my own man. That means being a little bit more... that means growing up and facing the ugly shit around me. 

That made Shiv grunt again, but he didn't quite manage a laugh. It was old by now, but it was still true. He needed to deal with things no matter how unpalatable they were. Just because Veronica's revelations left him disgusted and feeling alienated from his very self, he didn't need to react to it. He didn't need to let his thoughts run wild. 

Can't control the feelings, but I can decide how to respond and what I'm going to do in response. And I got quite a bit of control. More than the Educator would like me to have anyway. Pushed her pretty hard, and she just kept letting me get away. Means I'm important to Udral and she knows that. It also means that Udral needs to tread carefully with me. Same thing with Veronica as well. I got them all working against each other on my behalf. 

And with this whole 'breaching the Outside' science experiment these two people are doing at the Academy, maybe we don't need to go to Black Edge at all. Maybe we can bring Black Edge to us right here. Or at least I can cross over and find Uva and the others myself. There are opportunities all around me. I just need to make them work. I will make them work.

Philosophy 28 > 30

Psycho-Cartography 91 > 93

Psycho-Cartography: Yes, good. Maintain this scheme of thinking. We will likely run into more traumatizing situations, but that doesn't mean we should succumb to them. In fact, maybe we should dunk our head in feces-infused water some more. It seems to be good for our mood.

Absolutely goddamn not, Skill. What the hell is wrong with you?

Psycho-Cartography: In the absence of Adam, I must treat you as Adam. It has become a reflex for us to jab at someone, and all we have are each other.

Hey, listen. I'm not the Adam. You're going to have to be the Adam. You're the smart bit of me, you know that?

Psycho-Cartography: Are you admitting Adam is smarter than you?

Shiv paused. You know, in certain ways, he's more learned. And, uh, he's got a keen awareness of things.

Indeed, he does. Do you think he's smart enough to argue with himself to distract from the fact that he's effectively being suffused in wastewater?

Shiv paused. That made him start guffawing internally with new gusto. He realized what Psycho-Cartography was trying to do, an insinuation that his subconsciousness was crawling toward. 

Adam was a great many things. More intelligent than Shiv in terms of tactics and strategy? Absolutely. But psychologically and emotionally, the Gate Lord... he must hate this.

That was something Shiv couldn’t wait to see.

***

"What was that shit?" Adam snarled. "I'm absolutely never doing that again. I mean, what the hells? Just throw me out in the street. Let the Ascendants take me again. Let Stormhalt ruin my mind! What was that? They sent us through the sewer, Shiv. They turned me into piss! They made me piss, Shiv!"

Shiv was right. Adam did absolutely hate that, and it was an utterly glorious meltdown to behold. As Shiv emerged from his final exit in a splash of fetid water, he realized he was standing in front of a damaged toilet. Adam arrived not a few seconds later, and the Gate Lord sputtered and gagged. Even though their bodies weren't soaked in the waste—the reason being that they were turned back into things of flesh and solid matter, rather than actually being suffused by the wastewater—the effects were the same. 

Adam could still feel the disgusting sensations clinging to his side. He could still sense and smell everything around him, and that was the worst thing of all. Adam had Heroic Awareness, and for two hours, he had endured the conditions of their transit.

After a bout of violent heaving and cursing, the rest of their group arrived, with Solzimort being flung out and phasing through the walls, while Irons staggered free with a shake of his head and no other reaction besides: "Well, that was interesting."

"Terrible, absolutely unpleasant, but also interesting," Five commented.

“Fuck interesting,” Kura shuddered. “I’m with the pretty boy. Prison’s barely better than this.”

For once, Gone looked like she was in agreement with the elven Chronomancer.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Helix sniffled. The few other orcs were forming up on the outside of the restroom, securing the premises. Mold clung to the corners, the ground was a layer of grime and mess of dead bugs with bits of smeared tiles shining in between. 

As they finished getting their bearings, Captain Irons looked around, and a grimace crawled across his features. "I know where we are," he said. "We're in the sealed wing of the old Aenerial Coliseum."

Adam stopped choking and turned to stare at his former instructor. "What? The one that crashed down on the Yithvelhul dormitories during the sabotage? I thought it was completely destroyed.”

“Sabotage?" Shiv asked.

But before anyone could say anything else, a knock sounded from the far end of the room. Past a set of cracked mirrors was a rotting door. From behind it came another rattle, but this time, a piece of the door feel off—a rectangular chunk that showed the one who was knocking. Shiv saw half a face. Elven. Bronze skin tone. And what looked to be a tall and pointed hat.

“‘Ello?” The stranger whispered. The orcs were still. All of them were staring at the unexpected visitor like a pack of wolves that just noticed a lamb. Kura manifested a shadow. Adam shaped an arrow. Irons, however, held a hand up, stalling everyone.

“Hello? Are you… Are you the… the volunteers? I was told by the… the liaison to come here. To make sure I was alone. To—to come and help with your final… relocation. Oh, and—and I am Hero-Enchanter Merrielmel! I—ahem! Welcome to Phoenix Academy. There are, oh, there are many of you. Orcs too… Why… And… Irons?”

Captain Irons just glared at the other man through the cracks in the door. “Merrielmel. How long? How long have you been under them?”

“Ah. Eh.” Merrielmel’s voice was soft and stutter-wracked to begin with. Now, he sounded like he had throat problems. “A few years. Ever since—since—”

“The Sivoron Core Collapse,” Irons said with absolute certainty. “I wondered how you didn’t get fired after that.”

“Ah. Ah.” Merrielmel coughed. “How… But you…”

“Melissa. She’s still missing.”

Merrielmel went still. He sighed, nodded, and pulled the door open. “I see. That… that makes more sense. I am glad that you gave yourself away for a good reason.”

“I’m not,” Irons replied bitterly. “But it still needed to be done. Where’s Concelhaunt?”

“Ah. Eh. He’s, eh, occupied.” Merrielmel coughed. “Best to… come out first. Come out fast. We are… This place will not be secure for long. The city— the Ascendants have placed the capital under lockdown. And… and…” And just then, Shiv’s Hidden World Quest Notification loaded again. “I… Oh… You are… You… You’re my volunteer?”

The Deathless breathed. “Yeah. Oh. Me. Volunteer. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but I don’t know if you’ll be feeling the same way in a while.”