“You controlled me,” Durran said, his brows furrowed and eyes staring at the ground. They sat in the saferoom, the other two busy with their own tasks. A ward concealed their conversation.

Argrave scratched the back of his neck. “Well, let’s not make it weird.”

Durran looked up. “Bit too late for that, Argrave. Are you… you didn’t take anything strange this morning?” He scanned his eyes like he was looking for dilated pupils. “Keep going. How?”

“Well, with a…” Argrave held up his hands, fiddling with his thumbs. “A controller. A little object, with buttons and a rubber stick that could move in all directions. That’s how I moved you.”

Durran stared at Argrave, completely silent.

“Sometimes I’d use a keyboard. It was a little board with a lot of buttons, one for each letter and numeral. Plus some… symbols,” Argrave shook his head. “Listen—just think of it like this. I’ve done all of this before. I know this world very well. I experienced things through you and some others.” Argrave leaned and patted Durran on the shoulder. “Just thought it was long overdue to tell you. You’ve been doing good work. And that brings us to the reward I promised you,” Argrave continued quickly, retrieving a prepared package that jingled.

Argrave threw the bag at Durran, and the man quickly threw his hand up and caught it with his left hand. It slid out of his two remaining fingers, but the other hand quickly caught it so adeptly he seemed used to doing so.

“Sorry,” Argrave apologized. “But that’s… well, it’s a lot of cash. Two pink coins, fifty of those gold ones.”

Durran’s face brightened at once. “You’re kidding.” He grabbed the string binding the bag closed and pulled it, opening it up. At once, some of the sheening rose gold magic coins veritably shone out of the bag, as though the leather concealed rainbows instead of metal. “This is… good gods. This is a lot of reward. I—” Durran paused. “Forget that. You can’t just cut me off at that point. What in the world is ‘Heroes of Berendar?’ This is the last damn explanation I expected!”

Argrave looked around as though someone might hear, but the ward blocked all sound from escaping. “Well, it’s just like I said.”

“This place was a game for you,” Durran pointed to the ground. “I don’t know. It’s a pretty far cry from some card game or… or a weaved ball you’d kick about on a dune of sand. I don’t get it.”

Argrave leaned back, exasperated. “The reason I dragged my feet is because I hate talking about it. It’s…”

Durran laughed. “I get it—it kills the mystique a little. But I’m just… trying to wrap my head around this. A game that recreates… a different reality.”

“Creates a reality. Or maybe it does recreate, given I’m here, now.” Argrave shook his head in frustration. “I don’t understand half of this nonsense myself. I hate talking about it because I don’t like thinking about it. I’m here. I’ve got you, Galamon, Anneliese—the three of you keep me grounded. I have to focus on the present. But… I think you deserve some honesty, so I’m telling you.”

“You trust me,” Durran stated.

Argrave nodded. “I do.”

Durran looked off to the side. “Just had to give up a few fingers, huh?”

Argrave laughed, but immediately uncomfortably assured, “That’s not…”

“Relax, you bastard. I know,” Durran assured him. “So you, uh… you weren’t ever really ‘Argrave,’ huh? Never lived in this place. Didn’t even have magic.”

Argrave shook his head. “No.”

“No wars. No life-or-death. No cults, ancient gods… no struggle to find a meal every day,” Durran continued, waving his hands as he rattled off hardships.

Argrave stared at Durran. “I was lucky, yeah. My biggest concerns were social.”

Durran nodded and looked off to the side with a blank stare. “I guess mettle must be in the blood. No other explanation for how you got through unscathed.”

Argrave looked down. “I just played things safe.”

Durran focused back on Argrave. “You’ve a strange definition of safe.” Durran weighed the back of coins in his hand, then said, “Well, gods be damned. This is a nice bag to spend. I can do a lot. Try northern liquor, your food, maybe your women,” Durran said with a smile, but for some reason his smile faded. “Maybe… maybe not.”

“Hey. Do what you will,” Argrave held his hands up. “I can’t pass judgement. Ever since my body got better, I’m constantly… well, forget that. The point is to take a break. After you handle some things for me, of course.”

“Ah,” Durran pointed. “I knew it.”

“Of all of us, you’re the least recognizable,” Argrave pointed to him. “So long as you dress inconspicuously, you should be able to get a fair bit done without raising eyebrows. And you’re reliable about matters like this.” Argrave retrieved a paper. “Got a small shopping list for you. While Elenore snoops on Rancor, I have to prepare for the immediate future. We’re in the capital—plenty of shops that have things I need, things only High Wizards of the Order can buy. Specifically… some ingredients. Galamon and I are going to be brewing some things.”

“You’re the High Wizard, not me,” Durran shook his head. “How can I buy anything from these shops?”

“Wizards are busy and wealthy. There’s a system for servants to buy things,” Argrave waved his hands.

Durran smiled and tapped his knees. “Alright, master. As you command. This servant will go and do your bidding. I am infinitely humbled by the grace you’ve shown in allowing me to spend whatever remains.”

“You forgot to bow,” Argrave rose to his feet. “Thank you for this. Have fun. And if you have any more questions about what I disclosed to you, about my past…” Argrave put his hand on Durran’s shoulder. “Ask Anneliese, please. I hate talking about this.”

Durran laughed, then stood as well. He wrapped the string back around the bag and closed it, hooking it to his belt. “How would you function without her?”

“Poorly, I suspect,” Argrave smiled.

#####

Ruleo ate a loaf of bread as he sat surrounded by a cluster of rocks, waiting and watching. His piercing white eyes stayed on a drainage exit, watching the water pour out and out of a thin, rust-corroded iron grate.

Elenore was acting remarkably human when last he met her. That was an unusual thing indeed. Typically, she dealt with everyone, even her closest agents, in an entirely business-like fashion. Something must’ve excited her—brightened her day, brought some color to her world of unending dark. On top of that, she restricted access to many important areas. Even now, her men watched and guarded these entrances.

Ruleo knew something big was brewing.

In truth, Elenore’s request to examine Rancor could be considered a good break for him. Considering the strange nature of the information the crime syndicate had delivered to him, he had already been looking into them on his own—one of their lieutenants, a shrewish man by the name of Wayn, had seemed remarkably suspicious. From there… he’d looked into things on his own, already got some conclusions. ‘Vampire’ was a word that came to his mind.

Rancor was concealing something gargantuanly profitable in their headquarters. Whatever it was, it was part of the Old Dirracha—the ancient sewer systems, the old streets, all covered by the finely-paved roads of this beautiful city around them. This city was built atop a city after a devastating event in the distant past. It was a baffling thing, and more than a little confusing.

Ruleo would tell her this in due time, of course. He knew every detail about their headquarter beyond what was inside it, and he was certain Elenore would be satisfied with that. The work she’d given him—he’d already done it. Once he told her, she’d order her own men, possibly accompanied by Ruleo, to check things out.

Now, though… the reasons for her restrictions to entrances was far more interesting. Ruleo had been through the drainage grate ahead and recalled that its pathway moved right by a safehouse. Provided she was keeping someone safe, it was his best lead to find out what was going on with her. Elenore had big designs—he was interested in being part of them, even if he needed to be a bit underhanded.

And… she had mentioned Argrave. So far as he knew, Argrave was still locked up in the Tower of the Gray Owl, and that hadn’t changed. Ruleo hoped he’d die there. Even still, Elenore brought him up all the same. That warranted his attention.

Ruleo had some of his other men watching other entrances to the greenhouse. They were all skilled, and he trusted them to do the task ably. But instinct told him he’d want to be here, watching this part. Instinct was something without basis, but it had worked for him so many times in the past that Ruleo was content in having faith that trend would continue.

The suns continued to pass over the sky as Ruleo ate, until he was finished and done. He kept watching, legs snug in a nook of a rock close by. He watched and waited, shaded by a larger rock nearby. Eventually enough time had passed that he was hungry again, and the light of the suns was just beginning to fade.

Yet then… the men guarding the hidden exit both moved towards it. Ruleo remained still, watching attentively. A man wearing a baggy set of robes walked out. He carried a walking stick of some sort—or at least, so Ruleo thought at first. Cloth wrapping was dense at the top. It was a spear of some kind.

“Hmm…” Ruleo remained still, doing nothing to draw anyone’s attention. He examined the attitude between the guards and the man—it wasn’t fully cooperative. “Might be my man.”

His eyes followed the tall man with the spear walking towards the city of Dirracha.