“Rares? Two-stars? Silvers!” Darlotte Glofal flounced around Freegate, flaunting her status as the sort of person for whom the word “flounce” was invented. “Oh, Adigail, I simply can't find any Rares, not for golds or alts. Do you happen to know where they may have gone?”

“I'm ever so sorry to admit that I don't. Perhaps they have become sensitive to the smell of back-breaking tasks? An eager nose can ruin the most careful training.” Adigail Zem picked up her dog and tapped its nose by way of demonstration.

“Could it be?” Darlotte peered at the dog, but then shook her head. “No. No, there is nothing the slightest bit back-breaking about this assignment, so their keen animal senses cannot have detected it beforehand. They are wanted for nothing but to dust every last orchid pot in the Quake lounge for fingerprints, cross-reference the prints using our library of officer characteristics, and assure me that I have cared for all the orchids attentively today. I can't imagine any assignment that could be called simpler or more delightful than that.”

“Dear me, but horticulture sounds frightfully involved. Are you quite sure that it's necessary for you to . . .” Adigail glanced away from her dog to her conversation partner, saw her expression, gulped, and shifted course. “. . . find those irresponsible rascals when the two of us are surely capable of visiting the greenhouse ourselves and checking every orchid, again, just to make sure?”

“Adigail!” The named officer jumped, but the speaker appeared not to notice. “What a bracingly splendid idea! Come, come, let us hurry. Oh, but, must you bring your dog with you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. We are quite inseparable until I receive an alt. Possibly even then.”

“How peculiar.”

The hero rescued the royal refugees and escorted them to their destination, that being the camp of the resistance army just outside the town of Mectival. The slain king's niece and nephew entreated the hero to lend them his strength for the overthrow of the tyrannical Alben along with his armies of collaborators and fleets of marauding pirates. However, before he could give his answer, the warriors of a warlord named Urisned attacked.

“And that's the reason we're confronting all these Brenlond Warriors,” Reginald concluded.

“Great, but why are the ones with spears Floods and the archers Infernos? They should all be Inferno! Desperate Defense!”

“To encourage players to use Cadmos, I imagine. He was the sole Eclipse they had to start.”

“Was he level five?” Ulrik pounced on a Common Brenlond Warrior released into the world by the death of the enemy Brenlond Warrior. “Because I am!”

“Remind me, which one is Frostbite?” Clyse turned over her new Brenlonder Helm, peering at every curve and angle.

“Uh, Frostbite damage goes up with each tick. Burn goes down, and Poison stays the same for the duration. They all beat that Flinch junk, anyway.”

“Thank you, Dennet.”

The Sectiger no longer blocked the way into the hills and tree-lined valleys of western Brenlond, and no Chapter 2 enemy compared to the Chapter 1 boss. Dennet practiced his behind-the-back shots while Vinnette Melban developed a new technique of vaulting off her caduceus to kick spearmen into the archers, and no foe could resist their theatrics. The Rares fought through the hills to the tents of the army camp and the streets of Mectival.

“Kint N. Bredle is the doctor here. Winze G. Stezlin was his assistant, but she decided to leave with Ostros and Anstralia for the chance to serve as the chief doctor of the Perandran royal family.”

“Then she became a mad scientist wearing a lab coat.” Clyse leaned on her shears. “Good for her! Is that the boss?”

“The hero fought Urisned here in Story, but Vigilant Patrol shares the Suppression version. Lanmaran Lash!” Psychic forces concentrated by Reginald through his lens assaulted the Urisned Lieutenant, who had the misfortune of being an Inferno despite carrying a sword rather than a bow.

That same fact, along with his stylish hood, made him intimidating to Clyse, but less so to her 4,677 HP. The Rares were growing in might faster than the enemies of the early baby chapters designed not to scare off fat wallets or the players attached to them, and it felt good. Ulrik and Reginald held the Lieutenant a couple inches off the ground so Dennet could deliver the ultimate humiliation of a two-star wedgie, following which four of them backed off and watched Vinnette solo him for a few seconds despite her Quakeness and Medicness while their cooldowns counted down.

“Flawless technique, Princess Melban. Intimidating Strike!”

“Thank you . . .”

“I have a question for you, Ulrik.”

“Yes, Reginald.”

“What is that attack supposed to do? Does it have a secondary effect?”

“Intimidate. It ignores Flinch Resist.”

“I've never seen anyone Flinch from it.”

“The Flinch chance is low. It's far too low!” Ulrik hopped over and jabbed Reginald's chest with his finger. “Much as the Selfish Redirect on your Shift Blame redirects barely any damage. The Skill Star of a Rare is never a subject of envy.”

As if infernal heat flowed from Ulrik's very core into Reginald, the latter clenched his fists and yelled, “I hate being a Rare!” His cry reached the heavens, but no ears that could listen or do anything about it. Also the Urisned Lieutenant died, but that was a given.

“Then the others had some trepidation about facing the next boss since he should be an Eclipse, so here we are.”

“We're all aware of that, Reginald.” The five Rares stood in the Armory, which remained unlocked and inviting during the day.

“He isn't, Clyse.”

“You mean him?” Clyse raised her finger to point at Coremel, the Super Rare tasked with ensuring nobody made off with any genii or other valuable resources without player permission for that shift, and flicked his nose. “Oops, sorry.”

“The sun and stars may care, but I don't. Just don't put your hands on anything you didn't come in with.” Coremel slouched back as aggressively as he could in his wooden chair and scowled with every pixel the artists had given him.

“As often as I've hauled stuff in and out of here, you'd think I'd know how it works,” Dennet said. “Do I pick Tempering, Exceed Refine, Warp Enhancement, or Scrap?”

“You pick Scrap,” Ulrik answered. “The rest of us will Temper.”

“And we feed the Broken gear into our real gear, right?”

“Into my gear would be better.”

“Correct. Tempering increases the main stats, but less than you want according to all the videos.”

“Not everything on the internet is worth watching. Behold my logistics! Temper!” Ulrik slammed Broken items and gold into his white weapon in a display not seen in any player's account since the first two days, if then. “Is 956 Attack in the main stat good on a level 10 weapon?”

“Allow me to consult my notes. No.”

“730 HP?”

“Not really.”

“10 Speed?”

“Uh uh.”

“I understand.” Ulrik swung his scimitar through the air a few times as if to shake off the bad luck. “Give me yours if it rolls better.”

“Absolutely not. Also, it didn't. 942 main.”

The Rares augmented all the gear they had as far as they could, which was level 10 until they scraped together enough Short Feathers and Deadly Eyes for Exceed Refine. Some rolled high and some rolled low, but all the main stats ended up not quite double what they had been except for Flinch Immunity, which increased from a solid 10% chance to activate per attack to 12-14%. Some abilities were too powerful to allow normal scaling.

Clyse's group had finished its business to either the impatient satisfaction or lonely disappointment of Coremel when Quille Treten stomped in with a gang of smoldering Rares. “That tiger. That tiger!” he muttered, and the other four indicated agreement by their silence and vicious frowns.

“Had some trouble, Storm buddies? We beat the second boss, so if you need any tips . . .”

“Did you, now?” Sindze U. Radalo. “Well, we'd just love to hear all about it, but first, Burmin! Grab their Reaper and Medic! I'll hold them off!”

The assembled Rares doubted her seriousness until she shoved Tramda Olex at Dennet while kicking Ipons Ulsrada toward Reginald. “Go!” she shouted, and Burmin Trivvis tucked Ulrik and Vinnette Melban each under one arm and ran.

“Not in here you don't,” Coremel said as he jumped out of his chair and thrust apart Dennet and Tramda, both of whom stumbled, knocking over Clyse, Ipons, and Reginald. By the time they managed to rise, Sindze and her remaining compatriots had made off with the booty.