Rotgoriel walked the streets of Kai-Tan alone. Past the poorer districts where Richard had met with Aunarox, through countless blocks filled with stores and stalls that dwarfed the night-market of Turpentine, and up through the winding paths that led up the central hill around which Kai-Tan sprawled. Here were the richer denizens, the more powerful ones who could afford to claim land above the others, and had the security and influence to protect it.

The streets got narrower as he went, and walls rose around private estates. Guards glared with suspicion as he passed, dressed simply and thoroughly out of place as lavish mansions and gilded towers filled the skyline and rose about him.

After the first fifteen minutes, he knew he was being followed. Keeping his pace unhurried, he examined his reflection as he passed the shining silver walls of something that could have been a temple or a bathhouse. There were about a dozen armed and uniformed men following him, sour looks on their faces.

I am getting close, he knew.

There was no concern in his mind, no care in his steps. If they assaulted him for whatever reason, he would cancel his transformed shape, and lay waste to any who dared stand against him. In fact, after this last day he would welcome it. He had stress to vent, and a dearth of targets at the moment.

But he owed it to his brother to try things peacefully. At least this, anyway.

There would be another talk with Rich in the future. Once things were settled. Talks about boundaries and expectations and stupid humans who lacked the willpower to control their genitals. But that was for later.

Perhaps it was his confidence. Perhaps it was the fact that he seemed to know where he was going. Perhaps they were not trying to ambush him, but simply making sure he was not some poorer resident attempting to steal or cause trouble. Either way, he was unmolested as he came to the wide plaza that filled the first plateau of the hill, and found the stone amphitheater that the city had been built around.

It was crowded today. And the guards around it were of a myriad of races, clad in a dizzying array of colorful uniforms, all there to represent and provide security for the thirty-odd figures representing the movers and shakers of this mad metropolis that stood in a loose ring at the floor of the amphitheater.

They were arguing, posturing, making speeches, and even occasionally listening to each other.

As governments went, he supposed that could be counted as moderately successful. Then his eyes snapped to a red-skinned figure hurrying his way, looking worried.

“Where is Father Nosebest?” Antonic hissed, as he stopped a few feet from Rotgoriel.

“Gone. For some time. Where do we stand?” Rotgoriel asked.

Antonic's breath hissed sulfur-scented through his blackened teeth. “Not in a good place, effendi. How about Sir Gideon? Or even the Living Dead Girl?”

“No.” Rotgoriel frowned. “Why are they necessary?”

“Look over the circle, and tell me what you see, with your player's eyes.” Antonic said, and waved a hand back towards the group of individuals standing in the circle.

“I see... ah. Ah, that is it,” Rotgoriel nodded. “There are no players among them.”

“Not a one. And while the Father and Sir Gideon were here, the minds of those arguing against them were clouded. Their speech was impaired. Our opponents were hindered from presenting a coherent defense. But now...”

Rotgoriel's lips twisted. A frog-man wearing a garish a top hat was talking, and he chased the vague tug of memory, identifying it from Richard's experiences. “The Bharstool Warmers own that one. He is their servant.”

“And he has gathered many to his side,” Antonic said, gesturing at the arrangement of the speakers.

Another glance, and he got a bit more of a sense of how the debate worked. The important people of the city moved to the side of the speaker they supported. Right now, Frogert Lee's side had twelve of the amphitheater's populace in it. The opposing side was headed by a visibly annoyed Aunarox, and had only seven richly-dressed individuals next to her. Fifteen people yet remained in the center, and as he watched, one shook his head and headed toward the frog.

“What happens when none remain?” Rotgoriel asked.

“Then the matter is decided. The speaker who has gathered the most support wins.”

“I see. Violence?”

“Supposedly not permitted here. But as anything, there are no laws in Kai-Tan.”

Rotgoriel nodded.

He listened to the frog for another moment, ignoring Antonic's nervous twitches as the djinn glanced back and forth between him and the speakers.

“We are so far convincing the High Harlots of the Hateful Heavens through my mistress's shared love of alliteration, but their schism with the Notall Men who oppose them has driven those aligned with the Harlots to our foe. It is a careful balancing game we must play, with many factors, and now the mostly-neutral parties of the Un Decided Deciders are currently figuring out whether or not we can offer enough to prevent their rival, the Grand Poobah Da Doink, from gaining another feather in his cap if he manages to outmaneuver them in this particular alliance. Truly, it is a delicate web of politics that we must maneuver through to—”

“That frog is eloquent. Too eloquent,” Rotgoriel decided. “Dispel Magic.”

And in a heartbeat, the frog-man's eyes bulged, and his voice rose two octaves, turning into a croaking dissonance.

He glanced around frantically, and his eyes lit on Rotgoriel. He scowled, pointed, and a few orange-clad men broke off from his side of the amphitheater and started making their way around towards him.

“Bless my Charisma Two-hundred and fifty,” Rotgoriel muttered, and strode into the circle.

Commotion behind him, and he heard Antonic's scimitars sing free of their sheaths, but he knew what to do here, and he pushed past the surprised and offended speakers in the center, and made his way to Aunarox. She had frozen, was glancing between him and Antonic, and hope warred with fear in her features.

And Rotgoriel willed his borrowed transformation to end.

As he took the last few final steps to his djinni's side, he shook and felt himself expand to his true height, heard the screams and shouts of alarm, and felt the motion of air as the amphitheater cleared out, until only Frogert E. Lee and Aunarox were left at opposite ends.

A thousand bows and crossbows and guns and spells and far stranger things were trained on him, he was ringed by wary and mostly-hostile guards, now fearful for their charges, and in the silence he knew that one word, one wrong word would result in an outpouring of violence that would flatten the amphitheater and probably a good chunk of the city along with it.

And he smiled.

“We are two and you are one,” he rumbled, and his voice echoed through the bowl of the old structure, carrying across the district. “I believe that means the matter is decided, yes?”

“This is rrrridiculous!” Frogert E. Lee shouted. “Wherrre are my allies?”

Rotgoriel's tail whispered across the ground, scales scraping as it lashed.

The amphitheater was silent.

“They are behind me,” Rotgoriel rumbled. “You are in front of me. Perhaps you should leave.”

“No! You cheated! This is wrong! We will not abide by this decision! Mah people shall rrrrriiiise up, and fight! As long as I live, I shall not rrrrreeessspect the decision made here today! As long as I brrrreathe, we will fight to the last drop of our noble blood!”

“So you lost, yet you will still oppose us?” Rotgoriel asked.

“It is the rrrrrright thing to do!”

“It is against the laws... no, the customs of this city, of this circle, yes?”

“It does not matterrrrr! I was winning at firrrrst! You cheated! I am the trrrrue winner! We will not submit to yourrrr evil! So long as I live, I will worrrrk to end you—”

“Chomp,” said Rotgoriel.

The frog-man tasted of pork rinds and mold, and Rotgoriel grimaced as he chewed. Still, presentation was important, here.

“There are no laws in Kai-Tan,” he spoke, while the audience gasped, and the guards in orange who had been backing Frogert hesitated, and looked around. “There are no laws here, but I would not shit on your customs as Frogert did. We have won. Any who disagree may take it up with Frogert. I will help you visit him.” He patted his stomach, and belched theatrically.

A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd. But he kept his eyes on the men in orange. And his boosted charisma pulled the crowd with him, until the entirety of the onlookers were staring at the slavers, who looked decidedly less angry now, and far more nervous.

Antonic smirked as he backed away from them, sheathing his scimitars, before coming to stand by Rotgoriel and his mistress.

The slavers fled, to the sound of laughter. Relieved laughter, from most of the crowd, Rotgoriel thought. They were not truly liked. They'd just been one of the loudest voices here.

Then the laughter stilled, as another figure stepped forth.

And to Rotgoriel's joy and disquiet, he recognized her.

“Midian,” he said, lowering his head to stare into her eyes. “It has been some time.”

“It has,” she smiled back, and he felt the tension leave him.

She was a dark-haired elf woman, clad in a resplendent gown of green traced with gold runes. A high collar rose from the back of it, and she wore a golden crown studded with sapphires and diamonds. He could practically smell the magic dripping from her.

Midian – Chronomancer 25, read her name. And with what he'd learned about humans and their language, he knew that she was probably the most dangerous thing in this city.

The crowd dispersed, seemingly done with the spectacle.

“I am wary of you!” Aunarox told Midian, her grin distorted, and her eyes somewhat glazed. “You have done nothing to earn my trust.”

“This is why you stayed out of the discussion before now,” Rotgoriel realized. “You are a player, and your presence would have affected the debate.”

“It would have been to your disadvantage,” Midian sighed. “Your friends left too abruptly. It is good that you got here when you did.” She studied him carefully. “We have never met before. Not when you were... properly yourself.”

Rotgoriel looked around at the plaza. The crowd was thinning out, but still, there were too many curious onlookers for his taste. “Will you fly with me?”

“Yes,” she said. “Flight.”

They circled the spires as they rose, picking their way through the towers, studying the city from above before heading eastward. Best not to alarm people unduly, after all. Aunarox and Antonic followed, keeping a respectable distance away. Far enough that they can think clearly, Rotgoriel supposed.

“So what have we won?” Rotgoriel asked.

“You did not know what was at stake?”

“There was... an emergency in Richard's world. I had to hurry here without all the knowledge of the situation.”

“You must have a serious fate score. Well. You've won the right to settle and develop a stronghold in the Mar Howollom woods. It is recognized as a part of Kai-Tan, and any assault on it shall be counted as an assault upon the Wicked City.”

“We have drawn Kai-Tan into the war!” Rotgoriel sighed in relief. “Pat will be happy.”

“It's a serious gain. They were profiting too much from the Warmers before, but the fall of Turpentine shook things up. It made enough of the city's dignitaries realize that gold is only useful when you don't have hordes of rampaging players going after your hoards.”

“And yet we had to win in the Amphitheater to gain their support?”

“Frogert is very loud. Was very loud,” she corrected. “In most timelines he caused you trouble later, so I am glad you rendered him a non-issue.”

“Timelines...”

“Yes. The things I couldn't tell you about, when Richard and the others confronted me five months ago,” she smiled wanly.

“But now you can?”

“If you tell me about Legion. What has he done?”

Rotgoriel thought for a few wingbeats, consulting Richard's memories, shoving down the irritation at his brother's foolishness with Agnezsharron. Beyond that, there was something else. A dread, a lurking suspicion, that he had never named.

But Rotgoriel was under no such compulsion to leave things unnamed.

“You are one of Legion's people, are you not? Of the same race?”

“You're asking a very personal and dangerous question,” she said. “But then you're the apex predator here, aren't you? Except it's not just your life on the line, is it? Rich is back in a place where very frightened and very powerful people could hurt him to gain an advantage against me. And Legion, for that matter.”

“You imply that my knowledge puts him in danger. Would it change your mind if I told you that he was attacked a few hours ago, and Legion puppeted and sacrificed a woman to save him?”

“What?” her face showed shock, rage, disbelief... for a fraction of a second, before her expression slid into a sour grimace. “Oh that idiot. I tried to warn them!”

“You knew that they would be attacked?”

“No, no. I knew Legion couldn't be trusted! He's going to draw far too much attention to them. To this.” She waved a hand, encompassing the world with a single quick-but-clear gesture.

“You are Legion's enemy, then?”

“Not exactly. We're... of different factions. When you're mostly creatures of thought, philosophies become important. I'm a Humanist. He's a Sensationalist. Ultimately he's a selfish creature, who will do anything for his next... fix.”

“Then what does this mean for us? For my brother and I?”

“It means that whatever danger Rich is in, it's far from over. What Legion wants, Legion gets, and damn the consequences.”

Rotgoriel considered. “My brother is already in danger. The masked ones are crossing between worlds to slay him, and those he loves. You have been an uncertain ally. Why should we scorn his help? Even if his motivations are selfish, they are still aligned with my brother's interests.”

Midian sighed. “I used to think the same thing. Until he betrayed me. Cheaply. Stupidly. But I understand where you're coming from. So I'll do two things, here. I'll offer you my aid, here and now and for the foreseeable future in this world. And I'll tell you what we can do to prepare for his sudden but inevitable betrayal...”