Incarceration freaking sucked.

  I was no stranger to it, having been imprisoned during my initial arrival at Skeelie. But, there was just something off-putting about the sight of bars and the sensation of enchantments that typified most jail cells.

  Like other structures in Nyneveh, the jail cell sprouted out of the cambium itself. The wooden bars grew from within the tree, creating rows of effective cells within the prison. Each cell was sturdy enough to hold a rampaging ranker, but it was the collar around my neck that kept me detained.

  I couldn’t access VP, MP, any techniques, or even my inventory as long as the collar persisted. Heck, my status sheet refused to appear on command. However, my attributes were still mine to use as I wanted. Not that it mattered. Common Strength was too weak to shatter the bars, and I didn’t intend to provoke the Wood King any further. The fucking bastard.

  I’d now spent two nights in the dark, musty cell with no spaces for ventilation. And, right on cue, the [System] triggered the automatic consumption of a spirit orb, bringing my available total—if my calculations were right—to seventy.

  A ruckus rose from beyond the walls of the monarch tree, reaching my sensitive ears. It didn’t sound too bad, or at least, I hoped it didn’t. Nothing would suck more than to be trapped in jail in the middle of a crisis.

  My thoughts wandered to my companions—Kajal in particular. What the hell was she up to ever since my incarceration? She didn’t bother to visit, which stung a little despite my unwillingness to admit it. Hopefully, she succeeded in negotiating my release.

  I was polite enough to stay put to avoid worsening the situation. But, I hadn’t forgotten my original goal in coming to Dreadwood. If I was forced to spend one more night here, then the Wood Elves were responsible for whatever happened next.

  I paced around the cell.

  [Silhouette] remained inactive within my shadow, heeding none of my prompts. The Fear-based monster had been difficult to tame ever since I unlocked it three weeks ago, but it had also become a constant presence at my side.

  Seeing it lie dormant now as a result of the collar, a part of me couldn’t help but growl in frustration.

  This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all—

  The door to the jailhouse swung open.

  A harried-looking Kajal walked through the doorway and glowered at me from across my cell. “What are you doing?”

  I blinked at the lockpick that I’d retrieved from the sole of my boot and hid it with a chuckle. “Nothing.”

  Kajal grimaced. “Damien Njoku, you know better than to cause further trouble for me after the lengths I have gone to secure your release.” She deflated with a sigh. “How are you holding up?”

  I spread my arms and fixed her a pointed look. Really?

  Kajal snorted. “Right. Silly question. Sorry that I couldn’t come sooner. The Wood King proved difficult to get a hold of. Without his express permission, you were barred from receiving visitors.”

  “What changed now?”

  “I’ll leave that as a surprise. We have an urgent meeting with him in the meantime. I made it clear that your release is non-negotiable.”

  My eyes teared up. “Kajal . . .”

  “Ugh. Stay away from me.” She acted stern, but her lips curled upward slightly. “I understand the reason why you thought it necessary to do what you did. It was probably the best option at the time. But, the situation has changed.” She leaned against the wooden bars. “We may need to reveal your abilities to the elves.”

  Ugh. I couldn’t imagine that conversation going swimmingly.

  Hey, I am a user of the taboo affinity, Fear. But, I am not the same user currently terrorizing Dreadwood. I know it’s rare for two Fear users to appear at the same time, but it’s just a coincidence, m’kay?

  “It’s alright,” Kajal said. “I’ll handle that conversation if it comes down to it.”

  I conceded with a sigh. “You certainly have a way with words . . .”

  “Of course I do. I was an influencer back on Earth.”

  The casual reveal caught me off guard, enough to trigger a round of choking.

  “We're ready now,” Kajal called out toward the doorway.

  Two Wood Elves entered the prison, brandishing strange wands. They tapped the wooden bars with the wands to unlock them, and then they did the same for the collar around my neck. [Silhouette] stirred from its slumber.

  “Don’t try anything suspicious,” one of the jailers growled, “you Dark Elf mutt.”

  “Ah. Racism,” I replied. “How quaint.” I ignored him and followed after Kajal. “Influencer, really?”

  Kajal grumbled. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

  “Why? There’s nothing wrong with it. Not with the job, at least. I simply can’t imagine you sitting in front of a camera to advertise makeup and stuff.”

  “Who said it had anything to do with makeup?!”

  Whatever the case. Kajal cut a strong, quick-tempered profile with her [Martial Arts] and potent negotiation skills. I could see her being a military officer in her former life or a director in a respectable company. She didn’t give the impression of a social media personality.

  “What kind of content did you specialize in?” I asked as we left the jailhouse.

  “Dancing.” She gritted her teeth. “I’m not answering further questions on this matter.”

  We walked a little while longer.

  “So . . . like and subscribe if you enjoyed this video?”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Kajal groaned.

  Nyneveh looked as breathtaking as ever despite the negative impression of it that I’d gained after spending two nights in prison.

  The jailers led us in the direction of the center where the World Shrine stood. Nervous energy filled the air, having permeated the city in the time that I’d been gone. Wood Elf regulars huddled in clusters, speaking among themselves.

  A ranker party prepared to ride out in the distance, performing a last-minute check on their supplies. More sentries patrolled the grounds and treetops, doubled in number. Something had happened to send the Wood Elves into a tizzy, but Kajal seemed to have other issues on her mind.

  We continued past the World Shrine and toward the large, stone building that occupied the area behind it. The Wood King had emerged from the building the last time around, which made it his royal manor or office, at least.

  The royal manor gave off a regal appearance, despite being a bungalow. Marble columns added to the aesthetic, holding up a flat-topped roof. Heavy wooden doors opened with some effort, ushering us into a great hall beyond.

  A large bundle of energy sprang to its feet. “Damien!”

  “Paz!” I screamed.

  The hulking man evaded my high-five and grabbed me in a headlock. “You fucking clown! Did you intend to drown me alongside the goblins?”

  I chuckled as he rubbed his powerful knuckles against my head. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve done to you, is it? You can add this to the list of injuries I’ve inflicted alongside beheading and dismemberment.”

  “Cursed wanker!”

  Kajal let out a sigh. The rest of the people in the hall turned disgruntled looks at us. But, I didn’t care. Paz was back. That was all that mattered.

  “How did you get here?” I asked him once he freed me from his grasp.

  Paz glanced behind him. “Long story. Let’s just say that we were lucky to meet up with the chieftain. We’ll talk about the rest later. I think the Wood King is about to rupture his spleen.”

  Indeed, the Wood King watched us with an expression of irritation from behind a large table at the center of the hall.

  A few people occupied seats around him. One of them was Seeker with his shoulder-length brown hair and impish grin. He glanced lazily in my direction, showing no remorse for my incarceration.

  Logain sat beside him—we were so back!—looking like he had lived through a war . . . or twenty. He had traded his heavy armor for comfortable linen clothes, but the signs of weariness tainted his features. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes, lending an even greater air of severity to the pious Guardian. His cue ball head which typically served as a mirror in a pinch now sat obscured beneath a short growth of hair.

  For that matter, Paz didn’t look as relaxed as his attitude portrayed now that I studied him. He masked his weaknesses beneath a veneer of boisterous laughter, but the cracks were there for those close to him to see. Both men had survived horrific ordeals in the time we’d been separated. And, Dilwan provided clear proof of that.

  Together with Medekeine, he rounded off the number of people gathered in the great hall. But, whereas Medekeine sat alone, glowering at everyone who so much as engaged him, Dilwan instead squirmed in his chair, cradling his left arm which ended in a stump.

  “May we begin?” The Wood King said.

  Coming from anyone else, that sentence would have sounded like a request, but from a gold ranker, it was anything but.

  We took our seats.

  “Dark Elf,” the Wood King said, without so much as a glance in my direction. “I assume you will control yourself much better this time around.”

  Yeah, fuck you too, bozo. I didn’t give him the benefit of a reply. He didn’t seem to mind, having said his piece. The Wood King would not permit a repeat of obstinacy. That much was clear.

  Kajal cleared her throat. “Your Highness, thank you for allowing our comrades into your kingdom.”

  He waved her off. “The gratitude is rightfully Dilwan’s to receive. Were it not for his presence, my hunters would have killed your friends on the spot.”

  Paz made a face.

  “Our gratitude stands, regardless,” Kajal said. “I take it that by summoning us, you are now interested in conducting business?”

  “I’ll purchase all you have to offer,” the Wood King said as if that was ever in doubt. “The extra supplies will go a long way in shoring up our weaknesses . . .” His gaze lingered on Dilwan. “I might also require a second round of deliveries.”

  “That might not be possible, what with the current situation in the forest. We’ll need a safe corridor that extends from Nyneveh to the border.”

  “I can provide that corridor.”

  “The forest is crawling with goblins, Your Highness.”

  “I can provide that corridor,” he repeated. “In the presence of the host of Nyneveh, the goblins shall crumble like dust. There is no war.”

  Dilwan made a small sound in his throat.

  The Wood King frowned. “You will get your chance to speak, Chieftain of Nybala. Once I am done here—”

  “There is no time!” Dilwan said, unable to persist in silence. He placed his butchered arm on the table for all to see. “Every minute we dawdle, the goblins grow ever stronger. We can’t trust the villages to handle them on their lonesome. Summon an Elven Meet!”

  Seeker chuckled. “Have you lost your mind, failed chieftain? The Wood King has assured you of the impossibility of defeat.”

  “That is not enough!” Dilwan said. His stump of an arm trembled on the table. “I have faced the goblin horde. I have watched them charge without fear of death at our walls and barriers. They turned our farmlands red with the blood of our kin. This is different from the last time!”

  “You failed because you are weak. Nyneveh won’t fall so easily.”

  “But, at the cost of how many lives?! By the time the goblins arrive to test your assertion, none of the other villages will remain.”

  I studied the three Hinduli?. Something about the behavior of the Wood King’s folk was at odds with the level of the threat. The goblins were feared in this part of Vizhima for a reason. Why then did they play with fire? Unless . . .

  “You wish to weed out the weak,” I said aloud. “No. That’s not quite right.”

  The Wood King sneered. “I didn’t request your opinion, boy.”

  “Maybe you didn’t,” I said, “but your actions are at odds with reality. Getting rid of the goblins sooner rather than later is the wiser option, regardless of your confidence is victory.” I looked him in the face. “Unless there’s some hidden goal you intend to achieve. But, what is it? What could you possibly stand to gain by putting the lives of your people at risk?”

  Paz groaned in his chair. “More hidden agendas. This is the dungeon festival all over again.”

  Dilwan glanced at the Wood King, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. “Is this true?”

  “It is not,” Seeker said.

  “I’ll imagine it is,” Medekeine interjected, thoroughly enjoying the show.

  The Wood King turned baleful green eyes on me. “And, what if it is? Do you claim to possess more wisdom than a Gold?”

  His terrifying gaze stifled all dissent in the room. But, not my own.

  “Power has nothing to do with wisdom,” I said. “It’s one thing to wait for the right moment to strike. It is another to live long enough to know how that decision ends. If you are using the goblins to systematically eliminate your undesirables . . .”

  “Like the Dark Elves?” the Wood King said—my knuckles clenched at his tone—“I do not need goblins to accomplish that much.”

  “Crazy,” Paz muttered.

  The Wood King continued, ignoring the jibe. “I am stronger, wiser, faster, and more knowledgeable than the old me. And, that version of me was sufficient enough to defend Nyneveh and end the invasion. If I reserve my hand, it is because I, a king, see something that you, a mongrel, cannot.”

  I held his gaze despite the pressure. “Mongrels have teeth too.”

  “Of that, I am all too aware,” the Wood King said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we the Hinduli? have much to discuss. A proxy of mine will conclude business on my behalf.” His gaze lingered on Dilwan. “This will be lengthy.”

  I had more to say about my suspicions and rightful anger regarding the attack on Harkonean. But, I’d flown as close to the sun as I dared for now. Paz was back, and I longed to learn all he had encountered.

  He shared my sentiment. “Let’s get out of here,” Paz said and leaped to his feet. “I, for one, have had enough scheming and cowardice to last the night. Boy, have I got news for the rest of you . . .”