(Charles)

  Charles diverted from the driver’s box, heading ioward the back of the carriage. He’d fotten about the bucket, but there hadn’t been enough time to deal with it earlier. Still, he’d o take care of it before leaving. Searg for the calm he didn’t feel, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Usually, he didn’t make mistakes like this. The enigma sitting in his had distracted him.

  Charles walked over, bent doicked up the bucket, tossing the water over the side of the road. He casually opehe rear chest above the spigot and tossed the bucket in.

  ‘Dishwater,’ he thought. That would be his answer if needed—a pusible reason for having the bucket out, washing dishes after breakfast. They wouldn’t know he did breakfast. her of them had paid him enough attention in the past to notice such a minor detail. He turoward the driver’s box and tinued ag as though he had no i in a verbal exge.

  Rono pulled up beside Charles, and Vera cawed loudly for attention. Dreadfang took up position on the opposite side of the arborhearth, boxing him in. They looked eager for a chat.

  ‘That’s unfortunate,’ Charles thought.

  “Charles, good to see you, old friend,” Rono said. Charles harrumphed at the st bit and tioward the front of the arborhearth. Roher didn’t notice or pretended not to and asked, “Seen anyone on the road si night?”

  ‘How did they know about Dyn?’ Charles wohough he remained ued in versing with them. He noticed Dreadfang’s silenusual for the boastful brute. Charles got the impression they were in a hurry. He tio be evasive, hoping they’d lose patiend move on.

  “I’m not part of the guild anymore,” Charles said as he climbed into the driver’s box. Vera cawed at him again, her red eyes locked onto him.

  “Stop it, stupid lizard. I’m talking here,” Rono said, snapping the reins before turning back to Charles. “e on, Charles. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

  “Yes, it does,” Charles said, leaning to the side as he reached out to pet Vera.

  “Watch out,” Rono said. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  The albino mount cawed loudly and leaned in to headbutt Charles’ outstretched hand.

  “Steady, girl!” Rono yelled. Vera ignored his attempts thten her out. Dreadfang’s brooding expression slipped for a moment as he blinked, watg Charles actually pet the theropod.

  “I’ve never seen her let a that close,” Dreadfang said.

  “Are y to lose a hand?” Rono asked, his expression showing disbelief at what he was seeing.

  “Vera’s a good girl,” Charles said as she uttered a series of loud clicks—her version of a purr.

  “Well?” Rono asked, impatience creeping into his voice. “Have you seen anyone?”

  “I’ve seen enough of you two,” Charles said, giving the albino one final pat on the head. “Now, move along.”

  “Charles,” Rono tered. “We used to be friends.”

  “We were never friends.”

  Rono frowned. “True, but it’s a simple question, really. Have you seen anyone on the road si night?”

  “Nothing’s free,” Charles said, his words ced with venom. “There’s always a cost.”

  He let his words hang in the air as he took the reins and gave them a firm shake. The bramble spawn responded, resuming their trek down the road. A steady rhythm of clip-clop and the grinding of the road uhe wheels filled the silence. Both riders matched his pace.

  Charles looked Rono in the eye, then gnced down at Vera. “Are you in a position to part with that theropod?” he asked.

  Dumbfounded, Rono asked, “What? The guild would charge me for her if I did. The wretched thing’s not worth it.”

  “She is to me,” Charles said, turning his gaze back to the road.

  “Why would I want to do that, and how would I get bae?” Rono asked, gesturing with one hand while holding the reins with the other.

  “You’d have an answer and tw legs,” Charles said. “For now.” Dreadfang bristled at the implied threat.

  Rono narrowed his eyes. “How do we know you’ve even seen anyone on the road?” he asked.

  “That’s the cost of doing business, Rono. Take it or leave it,” Charles said. He’d put himself in a win-win position. He had no iion of telling them about Dyn, but either oute would hasten their decision to move on.

  Proprioceptioed him when Dreadfang reached for the crossbow stowed on the far side of his saddle. Smart adventurers kept their abilities secret. The okamijin wasn’t aware of Charles’ passive ability to observe what he couldn’t see.

  Dreadfang fit right in with Ebonscale, Guild of Ambition. Assertive, aggressive, and strong, his problem-solving skills involved brute ford even more brute force if it didn’t work the first time.

  “Or…” Dreadfang said, spurring his mount ahead. He cut off the bramble spawn, f them to stop. They stamped their hooves against the road in agitation. If they had vocal cords—or even throats—they might’ve barked in obje. “You could ahe question, and we could let you live. A fair exge in my eyes.” He bared his teeth in a menag smile.

  ‘Brave and stupid go hand in hand,’ Charles thought.

  “I’ve already paid for my life,” Charles said. He paused for a moment, turning to look at Rono and then at Dreadfang. “And I assure you—you don’t have enough to take it back.”

  A low growl rumbled from the back of Dreadfang’s throat. Many of his ex-guildmates were like him, misuanding the guild motto: “Power above all else.” Ebonscale was the Guild of Ambition, but strength wasn’t the only way to gain power—it wasn’t eveimal way.

  Those with ing allowed the brutes to believe they were in charge. Dreadfang, like his peers, would bully and strong-arm his way through life. They also believed crafters were inferior to other archetypes, and Charles didn’t make a habit of correg false assumptions about him.

  Charles had learhat knowledge, not strength, was the key to power. It never made seo him why someone like Dreadfang would willingly give up information about themselves. Unfortunately, his own archetype was obvious—he would’ve preferred a less popur variant. Each archetype had a predictable pattern of unlocked abilities.

  Dreadfang waxed on about how he used his abilities to win battles, as if no one would appreciate his prowess uhey pletely uood why he’d won. Charles knew each of the okamijin’s orbs and most of his powerset. He’d already phe most effit way to dispatch the rge, furry man should the sario present itself.

  Dreadfang had already lost his patience, making an obvious threat, but Charles was more curious about how Rono would react. He crossed his arms, leaned back, and gnced over at Rono, waiting for his rea.

  ‘There it is,’ Charles thought, as Rono’s pupils expanded—exactly what he was looking for. Rono was remembering the st and only time they teamed up for a tract that had gone sideways.

  It had been a disaster from the start. The scope alone should’ve upped it to unon rank, but the system wasn’t perfect, and sometimes tracts got misranked. Most adventurers didn’t pin, though, because the rewards always adjusted in their favor.

  If they took a tract raoo high, they earned an easy lootbox. If they grabbed a tract raoo low, the lootbox rank adjusted—assuming they didn’t die. He still thought it unprofessional for the most powerful entity iire universe, perhaps even the multiverse, to have such clerical errors.

  The League of Adventurers’ official stance was to deny all tract requests directly affeg local political flicts, as they aimed to maintairality in non-gactic wars. However, the tract Rono and Charles had joined used a loophole, allowing the League of Adveo provide medical aid regardless of the circumstances.

  It was a medical group tract to transport supplies to the baes of an off-world war, requiring two teams: an escort team and a carrier team. The escorts took Rono, and the carriers took Charles, their only requirement being at least oe ability. The bigoted elf probably joined for the easy lootbox. It was supposed to be a milk run; only suicidal morons would attack a League of Adventurers medical team. Charles had joined because it was a ce to get off-world and away from Ebonscale for aended period.

  The traever made it off-world, ambushed by a third party paid to disrupt resupply to the baes. They ed to check the type of supplies or the group sent to deliver them—which was exactly what their employers ted on. The war came to a swift end days ter, after the altercation forced the League of Adveo intervene.

  During the flict with the meraries, Rono saw what Charles was capable of—outpag every esember in kills—and he wanted nothing to do with that.

  “e now, there’s no need for violence,” Rono said, attempting to de-escate.

  Upset, Dreadfang growled, “You do not speak for me!”

  Charles kept track of the okamijin’s hand and crossbow—they hadn’t moved. Until they did, he was tent to let it all py out.

  “Someohe stronghold afme, assassihe Old Elf, and gutted some of my guildmates. One of them was my mate,” Dreadfang growled.

  ‘T’nza was a det striker,’ Charles thought, ‘but unstable and easily provoked.’

  “And I have a mighty need for violence,” Dreadfang said, seething.

  “This versation just got iing,” Charles said. Most people would’ve said ‘sorry for your loss,’ but Charles wasn’t like most people, and he wasn’t sorry. He also didn’t waste energy on saying things he didn’t mean.

  Charles ied the test information: Within walking distance, multiple casualties, the bloodstains; it’s pusible Dyn was there during the atta Ebonscale, but what role did he py?

  He’d never bothered with fantasies of revenge on Ebonscale. No sane individual would dare make an enemy of them—a multi-chapter guild scattered across three ps (that he was aware of), with immense resources and untold es. It was curious they were asking about just one person. That kind of damage would require a team of adventurers, at least. His ‘guest’ tio grow more fasating with each passing moment.

  ‘How’d they do it?’ Charles wondered. ‘I would have chosen the Alchemy wing.’

  First, it was structurally vulnerable. Bo’cefus, the guild architect, had chosen form over fun. The st remaining inal structure of the stronghold, he refused to renovate ically reinforce it out of nostalgia. Sed, it cked security. Their version of ventition involved propping the doors open. Finally, it provided multiple accelerants. Ease of access superseded proper chemical ste procedures, meaning they kept violently reactive elements far too close.

  Holy, he could easily envision one of the unsupervised initiates actally causing an explosion that took out the entire wing, the adjat dorm, and the Old Elf during his nightly stroll around the campus—all ierrible, yet entirely avoidable, act. The only proper question was: why didn’t it happen sooner?

  “Shut your muzzle,” Rono said.

  “Infernal Mother, Rono, before the day’s done, everyone will know about the attack. There’s no point in trying to keep it a secret,” Dreadfang said.

  “Who was the target?” Charles asked, seizing the opportunity to gather more information while widening the gap between the guildmates.

  “You tell me,” Dreadfang said, ing his hand toward the crossbow. “It’s you hated us. I’d bet my gems you’ve been pnning this since you left.”

  Charles shook his head. “Couldn’t have been me,” he said.

  “There’s an atta the stronghold the same night you’re passing by. I t motive and opportunity,” Dreadfang said. He held the crossbow in his hand, ready to draw it in a fra of a sed. But Charles khat aiming with his non-dominant hand would buy him enough time to react. So, he tio py along.

  “He’s got the means, too,” Rono added, trying to drop a hint to Dreadfang.

  “So why not?” Dreadfang asked.

  “Too messy,” Charles said. “If the Old Elf was my target, he’d be the only one dead. If the eronghold was my aim, everyone would be dead, and we wouldn’t be having this versation.” He let the implication sink in. Dreadfang huffed in annoyance.

  “Let’s go,” Dreadfang grumbled. “He’s just wasting our time.” He spurred his mount ahead, resuming the search for T’nza’s killer.

  Rono breathed a sigh of relief and gave Charles a curt nod. Vera, however, refused Rono’s order to head out, not ready to leave Charles yet.

  “Let’s go, stupid reptile,” Rono said, yanking hard on the reins. Vera hissed but plied. Charles wondered how long it would take for Vera to enact her revenge. No o away with handling her like that.

  Charles waited until he was sure they hadn’t doubled ba him. Not that he thought they were clever enough to think of it—but it was what he’d have done. He knew Dyn had heard the entire versation. Oure he appreciated when staying ihe was the ability to hear everything happening around the arborhearth.

  Forty-five mier…

  “They’re gone,” Charles said. “We’re heading to Dartmouth, but it’s still a couple of days out. They’ll have the oi you need. Get some rest.”

  He opted to keep the hought to himself: ‘When you wake, you’ve got questions to answer.’