Day Three. Night.

I weaved through the camp, swaying drunkenly and raising the empty jug to my lips anytime a goblin came too close.

Some of the passing warriors inquired curiously about what was in the sack, but none of them cared enough to stop me and find out when I pretended not to hear. With every encounter, my deception skill ticked upwards, a reassuring reminder of the success of my ploy, and as nerve-racking as the entire venture was, it went off smoothly.

In short order, I reached the center of the camp where the prisoners were being held. Stumbling about, with what I hoped was convincing drunkenness, I surreptitiously studied the space before me.

Ten wooden poles had been planted in the soft earth and an iron ring had been affixed atop each. Steel chains were looped through each ring, the lower ends of which were tied to stakes driven in the ground. It kept the chains taut and the cages tied on their other ends aloft.

It seemed a strange way to secure the prisoners, and I wondered at the reason.

There were no guards nearby either, making freeing the prisoners simplicity itself. All that I needed to do was remove the stakes anchoring the chains. The cages would drop to the floor. And just like that, the prisoners would be free.

But not only would this cause a racket, it would also be clearly visible to the entire camp.

So not so simple after all.

No goblins roamed the immediate area below the cages and, curious to talk to the prisoners, I staggered forward, the picture of drunkenness. I had no plan for freeing the players yet but perhaps I could still learn something from them.

I took one step, then another.

Almost there…

A glint, glimpsed out of the corner of my eye, drew my gaze. I frowned. That’s odd... Tilting my head to the side, I peered at half-seen shimmer more fully.

And jerked to a halt.

A heartbeat later, realizing my error, I resumed my swaying, although this time, I headed the other way—away from the cages. From beneath my lowered head, I gazed quickly left and right to see if anyone had noticed my most un-drunken-like behavior.

No one had.

I sagged in relief and let my eyes drift back to what had attracted my notice: a barely perceptible shimmer around one of the stakes driven into the ground.

That’s definitely not natural.

I fell backward onto my rump, feigning a drunken stupor—for anyone watching—while I ran my gaze more intently over the other nine stakes.

They too were surrounded by a half-seen haze.

They’re trapped, I thought. They have to be. Drawing on my stamina, I cast lesser trap detect.

Energy rushed into my eyes, sharpening my gaze. From the edges of my vision, glowing dust particles swirled into being and after a beat, coalesced around the ten stakes to outline them in red.

You have spotted a trap! Your thieving has increased to level 2.

You have spotted a trap! Your thieving has increased to level 3.

…

You have spotted a trap! Your thieving has increased to level 10.

Congratulations, Michael! Your skill in thieving has reached rank 1.

Well, damn. In that moment, there was nothing feigned about the stupefied expression on my face.

I’d received ten separate Game messages, and while the skill increase accompanying each was nice, each alert also denoted the presence of a different trap.

Ten traps. I smiled grimly. I had underestimated the cunning of the Red Rats. For all the apparent simplicity of their prison, their captives were well-guarded.

I raised my gaze, still enchanted to perceive traps, and scrutinized the cages themselves. Unsurprisingly I found more traps.

You have spotted a trap!

…

…

You have spotted a trap! Your thieving has increased to level 20 and reached rank 2.

The cages’ doors were trapped too. I sighed. Freeing the Tartans was going to be harder than I’d anticipated.

~~~

I took my time examining the prison area. I wasn’t sure if I’d get such an opportunity again. But despite my extended surveillance, I spotted no further traps.

Satisfied that there were none, or if there were, I wasn’t going to spot them, I bowed my head and pretended to snore. It was time to carry out the next stage of my tentative plan.

I had already marked the cage containing the captain’s son, and I thought it best to contact him first. Where the other Tartan soldiers could’ve been anywhere between twenty and thirty years old, Sturm was clearly much younger. I pegged his age at eighteen, if that. Still, he was in command of the squad. Was that nepotism at work, or talent at play? I would find out soon, I guessed.

Readying my voice, I cast ventro, projecting my words—at barely above a whisper—to appear as if originating from within the player’s cage. “Sturm, can you hear me?”

No response.

“Sturm!” I called louder.

Even from a few dozen yards away, my sharp hearing picked up his startled grunt. He had been asleep I thought.

“What? Who’s that?” he demanded loudly.

“Ssshh,” I hissed. “Not so loud. You will attract attention.”

There was a moment of surprised silence, and I could almost sense him looking around wildly. “Who are you?” he whispered.

“That’s better. Keep it quiet,” I said. “Look to your left. Do you see the goblin snoring there?”

A drawn-out silence.

Guessing that Sturm had nodded or used some other non-verbal cue, I said, “Use your words, Sturm. I can’t see you.”

“Yes,” he replied. “I can see the goblin.”

“That’s me.”

There was another heartbeat of silence, then an interrogatory query rippled over me.

You have passed a Perception resistance check! An analyze attempt by a neutral entity has failed. Your deception has increased to level 44.

“How did you do that?” Sturm asked in a strangled voice.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Now, listen—”

“And how are you speaking to me from over there?” Sturm asked, his voice rising an octave.

“Keep it down!” I ordered. “Or you will give us away.”

“What are you?” Sturm persisted, ignoring my instructions.

“I’m a player,” I said. “Now shut up and listen!” I growled in exasperation. “Your father sent me.”

That finally got through to Sturm, and he quietened. “My father?” he asked in a hushed tone.

“Yes, your father,” I said. “Captain Talon has sent me to discover what has become of you and your squad.”

“But you are not one of his men,” Sturm objected.

“I’m not,” I agreed. Deciding I needed to share more information in order to gain the player’s confidence, I offered, “I’m the one the Awakened Dead are hunting in this sector.”

“I see,” Sturm said after another contemplative moment of silence.

“I can’t free you or your men just yet,” I continued. “The Red Rats have fashioned your prison more cunningly than I expected.”

“Oh,” Sturm said, with undisguised bitterness.

“Do you know why the goblins have taken you prisoners?”

Sturm did not answer immediately. “It is to stop us from passing on what we know to my father,” he said eventually. “If the Rats kill us, we will be reborn in the safe zone. Keeping us prisoner is the only way they can keep their secret safe.”

“Ah,” I exhaled. “And what is their secret?”

“I will tell you,” Sturm said. He paused. “On the condition you get the information to my father. Will you do that?”

“Of course.”

Sturm weighed my words for a second, then said, “The Red Rats are already allied with the Awakened Dead, but Erebus is intent on keeping that knowledge secret.”

I frowned. “Why would he want to do that?”

“I don’t know,” Sturm admitted. “But there is more.”

“Go on.”

“Not only are the Rats pledged to Erebus, but they have also been ordered to wage war on the Howlers.”

My brows shot up, unable to make sense of any of the information Sturm was conveying. “Are you sure?”

“I am,” he said. “My squad ambushed a messenger from Stayne himself to the Red Rat shaman before we were captured in turn.”

“Stayne,” I murmured. So he was involved with matters in this sector too.

“What will you do now?” Sturm asked.

I took my time answering. “Leave,” I said at last. If the Red Rats discovered me, I suspected they would do to me what they’d done to Sturm and his squad and that I couldn’t afford. “Sorry, I can’t rescue you just yet,” I added. “But I will be back.”

“Thank you,” he replied in a trembling voice. Still, he made no attempt to plead for his freedom. Brave of him.

I rose to my feet with affected grogginess, and another thought made me pause, “Do you know where the shamans’ tents are?”

Sturm jerked his chin behind him. “That way. You can’t miss them. The big red ones belong to the shaman and his apprentices.” He paused. “What are you going to do?”

“Investigate,” I said and swayed away.

~~~

After leaving the prison area, I reviewed the latest message from the Adjudicator.

Your task: Forging Dark Alliances! has been updated. You have received word from a reliable source that the Reds Rats are already allied with a Dark Power. Objective two revised: Inform Captain Talon or seek confirmation of your source’s information.

My time in the camp was growing short. Sooner or later, the body of the dead veteran warrior would be discovered, but given the camp’s lax discipline, I wasn’t certain what would happen when that occurred. Nonetheless, I wanted to be far gone from the camp when that happened.

So what am I going to do?

The truth was Sturm’s information had piqued my curiosity. Erebus was playing at some game, that much I was sure of, but with what end in mind, I didn’t know. Still, I was desperate to find out.

It made no sense for the Awakened Dead to prolong their claim to the sector. They should be attempting to secure it as soon as possible. Why then was Erebus keeping his alliance with the Red Rats secret and, more puzzling still, ordering them to attack the Howlers, another whose alliance he should also be seeking?

I shook my head, unable to understand the Power’s motivations.

So, instead of exiting the camp immediately as would’ve been the sensible thing to do, I delved deeper, heading towards the shamans’ tents on the off chance I could discover more of the Awaken Dead’s intent.

Sturm proved right. The shamans’ tents were unmissable.

Painted a striking shade of red, the five tents were drawn up in a line like a crimson scar cut into the heart of the camp. I wandered nearby and, through half-lidded eyes, scanned the tents with mindsight.

Four of the tents were occupied. Only one, the one on the far right, was vacant. Seemingly by chance, I wandered closer towards it, and once I was certain no one was watching, I ducked inside.

Concealed within the tent, I stood unmoving at the entrance while I examined the interior with trap detection. Given what I’d seen in the prison area, I had to assume there would be more traps in the camp, especially about the shamans’ possessions.

Almost immediately, a red haze superimposed itself over multiple objects in my vision.

You have spotted 5 traps! Your thieving has increased to level 22.

My lips turned down sourly. The Red Rat shamans certainly seemed to like their traps. Every chest, box, and bag that I could see in the tent was trapped.

So much for finding a revealing slip of paper, I thought unhappily. Ducking back into the shadows, I readied myself to leave. I was not about to risk trying to disarm one of the traps while surrounded by two thousand hostiles.

Perhaps, I can—

My internal monologue broke, as through my mindsight, I spied a goblin drawing closer. Reaching out, I analyzed him.

The target is Juxal, a level 43 goblin apprentice shaman.

The tent’s owner was returning.

Damn it! Stepping to one side, I drew my blade and crouched down.

You are hidden.

The tent was too small for me to stay concealed long. My best chance now of escaping the camp was to slay the incoming apprentice before he could give the alarm. At least, it’s only an apprentice.

Poised for action, I waited.

A figure entered, dressed in a crimson robe the same shade of red as the tent. I uncoiled, left hand snaking out to wrap around the apprentice’s mouth while the shortsword in my right hand drew a line of red across his throat.

You have killed Juxal with a fatal blow. You have reached level 49!

Your shortswords has increased to level 50. Congratulations, Michael! Your skill with shortswords has reached rank 5, allowing you to learn tier 2 abilities.

I lowered the corpse carefully to the ground, every sense extended for more signs of danger. When after a few seconds, I heard nothing to warrant further alarm, I began to loot the tent quickly and efficiently.

You have acquired 4 trapped containers.

The traps about the containers were placed on their locking mechanisms, and in no way did they prevent me from carrying them away while still fastened.

Only one chest was too large to fit in my sack. The rest, smaller pouches and bags, went in without further examination. After that, I stripped off the apprentice’s robes. It, too, could come in handy in the future.

You have acquired a rank 1 crimson Red Rat shaman robe. This item requires a minimum Magic of 4 to equip.

Then I exited the tent, my drunken persona back in place.

It was time to flee.