“The goblins took prisoners,” Paz said, once we left the great hall. “Dilwan, Logain, and I came across a slave train headed for the north. It was nasty work setting them free, but we managed to glean a lot from that battle.”

  “Nasty work?” Logain squawked. “The Chieftain lost an arm in that fight. I almost died. You died, for that matter!”

  “Death is just a nuisance,” Paz said as if that made any sense. “Not everyone dies when they are killed.”

  “What?”

  “Whatever the case,” Paz continued, “we finally made it to Nyneveh alongside the freed captives. But, they weren’t the only ones. Many of them confirmed the sighting of other trains of prisoners, including a few full of Dark Elves.”

  My blood ran cold.

  Paz, in his way of kindness, allowed me a small moment to digest the information. “I know it sounds terrible, Damien, but we know now that some of your kinsmen still live. If the goblins have taken the captives down to their caves—”

  “Then, we free them,” I concluded. “No questions asked.”

  “Question.” Medekeine raised his hand. “Do you think I care about any of this?”

  “No,” Kajal said. “But, we all knew we’d enter the goblin caves at some point. It’s the fastest way to complete your mission and mobilize the dwarves before the situation spirals out of control. Surely, the task isn’t too daunting for a dwarf like you.”

  Medekeine harrumphed. “I fear no goblin. Neither do I care for your childish attempts at provocation. I’ll go wherever suits me, but expect only the bare minimum from me in any issue regarding the elves.”

  Kajal didn’t answer, lost in thoughts of her own. She had a lot on her plate as the leader of the expedition. It was a pity that I needed to pick her brains.

  “What do you think the Wood King is up to?” I asked her.

  “I have a few theories,” she said. “Nothing concrete at this point. But, his actions are dubious enough for all to see. He was indeed instrumental in ending the last goblin war but surviving one horde should have made him apprehensive of another.” Her brows furrowed as she spoke. “He shows none of the signs.”

  Logain scratched his chin which had seen an explosion stubble in the time we’d been separated. “You speak the truth. The Wood King doesn’t strike me as the cowardly type either. No one who has achieved Gold can ever be accused of cowardice.” He lowered his voice. “Be that as it may, we must warn Ezin to expect little from the Wood Elves. by way of cooperation. Bargheria must pursue sole responsibility for its defense.”

  “Agreed,” Kajal said, smiling at the balding man. And then, she punched him in the face.

  He toppled with a cry. “My lady!”

  “Idiot,” Kajal hissed. “You’re telling me that a little water was all it took to keep us apart for days?!”

  “It wasn’t little—”

  Kajal stomped his chest.

  The rest of us excused them as they devolved into their usual back-and-forth. Their dynamic was a strange one, sometimes reminiscent of a master-servant relationship, other times like siblings.

  “What level are you now?” Paz asked me.

  “Thirty-one.” I peeked at his information. “How are you level thirty-two?!”

  Paz beamed. “It’s been a rough couple of days. I got a great skill out of it too: [Second Wind]. It refills my health and Stamina meters by one-third.”

  Talk about increased staying power. As if Paz wasn’t relentless enough in battle as things stood.

  “Well, I unlocked [Impostor].”

  Now, it was Paz’s turn to be intrigued. “Isn’t [Impostor] the special skill that all Tricksters would give an arm and a leg to unlock? You’re telling me you can transform into anyone you choose?”

  “Anyone at all.” I smirked and pumped my chest. “I’m pretty sure that my transformations are indistinguishable from the originals.”

  “Bullshit. Transform into me, then.”

  I furrowed my brows. Medekeine had wandered away, bored with our discussion. But, there was no reason to hold back, regardless. We were all on the same team; information sharing meant the difference between life and death. Not to mention, [Impostor] could prove invaluable on our journey.

  “Fine.” I activated the skill and created a new template named after my teammate.

  Paz paled at my transformation. “Dragon’s breath, is this what I look like now?” He circled me, whistling at my appearance. “Nice muscles you have on you if I do say so myself. Though, I’m not sure this is fooling anyone.”

  “Bloody wanker,” I said with a guffaw. “Even your mother won’t be able to tell the difference.”

  “Bloody hell!” Paz doubled backward. “Don’t speak like that ever again!”

  I erupted with laughter.

  “Where did your armor disappear to?” Paz asked, poking my chest.

  “It’s somewhere underneath,” I said, unsure of how exactly [Impostor] worked. “It feels like I’m wearing an extra set of clothes, atop everything else I have beneath.”

  “So, if you transform to Logain?”

  I focused again. My form shimmered for a brief second, leaving a short, balding man standing in my place. My version of Logain came clad in heavy, steel armor, including his recent stubble and short growth of hair.

  Paz touched my pauldron. “So, this isn’t real armor?”

  “No . . . At least, I don’t think so. It still feels like I am wearing the Night Scout Armor, albeit I feel strangely encumbered when I walk.” I paused to consider. “This is an exploit waiting to happen, huh?” I removed one of the heavy gauntlets. It dissipated into a silvery mist in my hand. “Apparently not.”

  “The gear you create using [Impostor] doesn’t exist,” Paz said, “except when in direct contact with you.”

  “There goes any hope of duplicating stuff, but I guess I can find some uses for that.”

  “The [System]’s not easy to fool, Damien. Greater men than you have tried.” Paz inspected my armor some more. “Do you gain any of the benefits of Logain’s gear?”

  I checked the [System] icons. “Nope. Nothing. [Impostor]’s creations seem purely cosmetic. I can’t generate weapons either.”

  “Well, [Impostor] is considered the ultimate Trickster skill for a reason. There are other ways to mimic the appearance of others, using Confusion or the lesser skill, [Plasticine], for example. Most don’t hold up to intense physical examination, and they certainly don’t bestow you with the behavior of your targets.”

  I grinned as he spoke. I had missed Paz’s extensive knowledge of The Matter of Vizhima. For a braggadocious brute, he had established himself as the best authority on the [System] in my circle.

  I tried a new template, this time of an unarmored Logain, dressed as he currently was in simple linen cloth. It didn’t require a fresh transformation. The armor simply faded away.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Don’t! Please stop,” I said and covered my head. “Don’t hurt me, my lady!”

  Paz chortled. “Medekeine, next!”

  I helped myself to a vital potion and transformed into the grumpy dwarf. “What’s more distasteful than a goblin? I’ll tell you, alright. It’s an elf.”

  “Now, Nicola!”

  I switched to the busty, dark-skinned Mage. Her atrocious robes spilled down to the floor, accompanied by a large witch’s hat on my head. “D-Damien, a-are you crazy? What do you think you’re doing?!”

  Paz bent over in laughter.

  Oh, wow. This felt kinda nice. Unlike with the masculine transformations, Nicola’s frame was rather light and . . . bouncy? Her mage robes barely managed to contain her chest, and I cupped them in both hands lest they should spill.

  A painful blow collided with my skull, knocking me face-first into the grass.

  Kajal towered behind me, cracking her knuckles. “What are you doing?” she asked in a syrupy sweet voice.

  Paz fell on his back this time around, unable to contain himself. The fucking bastard.

  “It’s not what you think,” I said. “I was just testing the skill!” And then, I noticed in horror that I was back to my usual self.

  Did Kajal delete over ten percent of my health in that one hit? What the hell were her fists made of? Concrete?

  Kajal’s sneer of disgust didn’t wane even with my explanation. “I would have expected that from your friend, Damien, but not you.” She shook her head. “Enough with this silliness. I’ll go finalize talks with the elves. The rest of you, wait patiently till I return without causing any trouble.” She glared at her teammate. “Come, Logain.”

  The balding man limped after her. “Yes.”

  Paz dried his eyes, still beset by laughter. “Alright, one more. Ezin this time.”

  “I’m all out of VP, Paz.”

  He visibly deflated. “Drat. This was the most fun I’d had in a while.”

  A short moment passed.

  “I’ll pay you five silver if you transform into Nicola again.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  It took Dilwan an eternity to emerge from his meeting with the Wood King. In that time, Kajal successfully concluded negotiations and got us to transfer all of the cargo we had on us to the Wood Elves.

  In return, we received a payment of precious stones, many of which possessed magical properties. I wasn’t the type to be swayed by riches, yet I couldn’t help but marvel at the wealth of the elves.

  We had just finished finalizing the agreement when Dilwan ambled out of the royal manor with a despondent look on his face.

  Logain’s features softened. “I take it that the talks didn’t go as intended.”

  “Yes . . .” Dilwan said, “I mean, no. Not that. The Wood King has agreed to convene a Meet.”

  He looked a far cry from the chieftain I remembered with a more severe demeanour and his belt clasped tighter around his waist. Dark rings circled his eyes, sitting even deeper in a now sunken face. His left arm only served to complete the picture.

  “That’s a relief,” Logain said. “Why then do you look so disheartened?”

  “Because he is being punished,” Kajal said. “Or is that not so, chieftain?”

  Dilwan trembled, then steeled himself. “It is so. But, the Wood King is right. The responsibility for the Nybalan dead falls on my shoulders. I must make amends.”

  If anyone asked me, Dilwan had suffered enough. It was obvious that he didn’t have combat ability on par with his level, probably from years of neglect, but he had done his best with the hand that he had been dealt. I’d watched him labor to escort the Nybalan survivors to safety. And, he had gone on to lose an arm while freeing elven prisoners.

  “Paz, Logain,” Dilwan said, “this is goodbye for now. It was my pleasure to journey with such stalwart companions, but I must ride forth to gather vital intel about the Meet. There are other tasks I must accomplish while at it too. The goblins cannot be allowed to conquer any more villages.”

  “Dilwan,” I said, “how are you expected to accomplish this with only one arm?”

  “What about it?” Seeker said, emerging from the manor. “Regenerators are worth their weight in gems, a scarce commodity in these parts. We don’t have any regen healers in the entirety of Dreadwood. He’ll just have to make do.”

  Dilwan shrugged. “It’s no real hindrance.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Seeker said in a rather unfriendly tone. He patted the chieftain’s shoulder and grinned at the rest of us. “The Wood King again thanks you for your undertaking. As he earlier stated, should the merchants be willing to conduct further business, he would be happy to oblige.”

  Kajal grimaced. “I don’t think that’s—”

  “Failing that,” Seeker said as if he hadn’t heard her, “your time in our hallowed kingdom draws to a close. You must vacate at first light tomorrow while the Wood King looks to the future.”

  “We don’t need to wait,” I said. “I’m ready to leave right this moment.”

  Seeker’s smile widened. “Then, I will provide escorts to hasten you on your journey.”

  My fingers twitched reflexively. Was that a threat?

  Kajal fixed her warm, brown eyes on Seeker. Her beautiful features narrowed to a dangerous glare that threatened to combust iron.

  Naturally, Seeker remained unfazed. “What is it now?”

  “Does it not bother you,” she said, “that the elves refuse to cultivate better relationships with their allies in this war?”

  “There is no war—”

  “Yet, your people are dying. If you dislike the term so much, call the goblin invasion whatever you want. Nevertheless, a person who turns a blind eye to reality does not make a show of strength—”

  “They are examples of Fear,” I finished.

  Seeker went rigid and blinked at us with almond-shaped eyes. Finally, he hissed. “Leave. Now.”

  It couldn’t happen faster.

  I exchanged parting words with Dilwan who had gathered four of the bravest elves among the rescued captives to join him on his assignment. The Wood King had been kind enough to provide them with riding mounts, but the general mood among them remained dour.

  Dilwan, however, took it in stride, walking with a gait that displayed his resolve. His new party was indebted to him, at the least, and they showed their appreciation by listening with a keen ear to his words.

  “You need to hear this, Damien,” Dilwan said and pointed me to an elf in his party. “Menelhar here met a Dark Elf during his time in captivity.”

  The elf in question nodded politely. He bore a scar across his face, which went over his eye and to his scalp. “The chieftain is right. There were many goblin trains headed for the tunnels. A few of them dragged Dark Elves along. I managed to speak with a ranker, Varil by name”

  I didn’t recognize it. “What did he say about Harkonean?”

  “The same fate that met Nybala also met them. The Nanduli? planned to abandon the village at the onset, but they eventually decided to stay and fight.”

  My stomach churned. “And, the Harkon?”

  “Fell in battle to a goblin.”

  Oh, Nana . . .

  “There are some ridiculously strong specimens among the goblins,” Menelhar said. “You should beware, even if you’re Silver. Only a Gold could hope to slay someone like Irithiel.”

  I didn’t care about the goblin’s power level. I remembered the name from a previous discussion with Dilwan. Galagor, huh? He would die by my hand.

  “Where do you think the goblins were taking them?” I asked. “The prisoners, that is.”

  “To work the goblin mines,” Menelhar said. “Where else? I know a few captives who were herded that way, mostly able-bodied elves: regulars and specialists. Rankers are considered too troublesome to tame, but they enjoy the rush of subjugating the strongest among us. The rest are used for . . .” He stammered to a halt. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to think about it.”

  “And, the kids?”

  Menelhar’s expression darkened.

  “Right. No need to answer that,” I said. “Did Varil say anything about the current state of my village?”

  Menelhar shook his head. “I expect it to be crawling with goblins. Same as ours. But, shortly before he was whisked away, he proclaimed his belief in an impending rescue. Sadly, we were the ones whose train was assaulted by the chieftain, not his.”

  And yet, Menelhar was ready to jump right back into the fray. The elves were hardier than I gave them credit for, huh? Also, what did the Dark Elf mean? Did his belief in a rescue imply that there were survivors?

  Dilwan mounted his reindeer. “We’ll ride hard for Nyrein, east of here. And, then for Aranvir. Of the four standing villages, those two are the most insulated. Their chieftains would need more convincing.

  “The others will be eager to attend the Meet, with the threat of goblins breathing down their necks. We have information that more villages are involved in skirmishes with the goblins.”

  “I wish you all the best, Dilwan,” I said.

  Dilwan nodded. He paused for a little while and added in a strained breath. “You’re headed for Harkonean, yes?”

  “That is most logical,” I replied. “Part of me wants to see the fate of the village with my own eyes, but I also recognize the risk involved in the undertaking.”

  Dilwan winced. “It pains me to say this, but your Harkon visited Nybala a few days before Harkonean fell. She wanted my help; I didn’t give it. Heralds, I feel like a fool.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because of my daughter. She traveled in Harkonean’s direction shortly before its fall. I haven’t heard a word about her since.”

  Oh.

  “If you find anything . . .” Dilwan faltered.

  “Sure. I’ll keep an eye out,” I turned to Menelhar. “The Dark Elf you encountered. Do you remember where he was taken?”

  Menelhar offered me a stiff look. “I just said that they were being herded to the mines.”

  “Yeah. But, in what direction?”

  He started to speak, then stopped to consider the question. “The goblin mines are set in the north, beneath the Fanged Mountains . . . but, the goblins seemed to be taking tunnels that headed slightly away. Toward the west.”

  “What are you thinking?” Dilwan asked.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t be heading for Harkonean.” I sighed and waved the duo farewell. “I guess it’s time to invade the invaders.”