Eli

  I stand over a map, glaring down at it. “If I go straight south I'll have to pass through the Herdlands, and possibly even Jarl.” My finger taps on the wooden table within the wagon. “If I go west, and than south, i'll be entering the conflict zone between the Durks, and the Herds, and then I would have to travel through the conflict zone between the Valkros, and the Herds. If I tried to go by sea I'd still have to pass through Jarl, or Avarelle.” I tap faster, and clench my eyebrows together. “I think the best bet is probably just straight through the Herdlands. If I stay away from the conflict zones, and try not to get into any trouble I should be fine. I mean, thousands of traders pass through there to bring lumber north… It's part of why Questford is so large, because we have such a large lumbar market.”

  I nod. “So be it. I'll probably have to bribe my way around a little bit.” I climb up the ladder to check up on Alistair. He lays in a bed in the lofts of this giant wagon. His chest is wrapped with preserved flesh, and gauze, and I have to feed him mashed foods. Milo and the city donated back the giant bulls that pull these wagons so I could use the wagon, but I'll still have to take breaks to recharge my mana because they are very expensive.

  I sigh, and sit down on the bed next to Alistair. I breathe in deep. “I will do what must be done to save my master.” I grip his hands, and my knuckles turn white. I take a deep breath, and repeat the mantra. “I will do what must be done to save my master.” But this time I added a little extra. “As he would have… As he did for me.” I correct myself with an exhalation of breath.

  Milo

  The city hasn't really been damaged from the invasion. I mean the gate was wrecked, and reeked of rotting flesh, so we had to incinerate the whole place, and then blast the stones with water. As such we had to replace anything wooden, but the stone that makes up the majority of the place was fine.

  Other than those minor damages everything is fine, and Theo returned with my money, and I have organized another caravan of coal to head out for sale. This one is even larger than before, the guards are cheaper as well, so we'll actually be making more gold than we expected, at closer to 90 gold per caravan, which is quite nice.

  Though, we are already finding other problems. “Hey man, those nice sewers you just got built? They’re infested with biting beetles.”

  I shrug. “What does that mean?”

  He rolls his eyes. “It means if anybody goes down there, they’ll get swarmed, and eaten alive. It seems they’ve been feeding off the urine in those giant ass vats underground, but they’d switch to humanoids, like that.” He snaps his fingers menacingly, with a glare to follow up.

  I shrug my shoulders. “What am I supposed to do about that? I can at best put up jobs for adventures to start clearing down there.”

  He shrugs, “Don't matter to me. But uh, you also got some weird species of fish humanoids who are stomping around down there, plus a variety of other weird humanoid crossovers. Some of them genuinely surprised me, like… I've never seen a racoon-rat-human cross before. New shit.” He scratches his stubbly chin with nonchalant mild interest. “I mean, I've seen rat human crossovers before, not the raccoon human crossover, but that triple mix is even crazier.” He finishes with a shrug before tossing the clipboard over his shoulder.

  He shrugs, and turns, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  I sigh, and shrug. “I wonder if any of those little creatures have anything of value… I mean, if one of them has a pelt that is worth money, people will naturally start hunting for them…” As I mutter this, a passerby stops, and says something.

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  “Oh, hey if you are talking about the sewer people, you can probably sell them to Via, and her crew, she's always looking for creatures to put in her arena.” he stops himself, and mentions to me.

  I tilt my head with a question. “Arena?”

  He chuckles, and scribbles something out on a napkin. “Address, go check it out, 20 coppers to enter, but the fights are great.” he waves, and wanders off into the basalt cobbled streets.

  I shake my head disapprovingly at the clearly inebriated man. It's 10 in the morning for god's sake! I check the napkin anyway. It’s on the edge of the slummy part of town, not deep enough in the slums to scare away rich people, and close enough to attract the people from the slums. My business head nods approvingly. My bureaucratic head is concerned though…

  Quickly, I stomp off to take a walk through the town. The streets are bustling with adventurers running around, people going to their jobs, vendors hawking their wares in the warm, and humid morning air.

  After a short 15 minutes walk I arrive at the destination, a discreet looking place, with timber walls, a relatively short building only around 4 stories high, and tiled slate roof tiles. I don't even hear any ruckus, the only clue that something is happening is the arched doorway, wooden beads covering the entrance, and smoke, and people bustling in, and out, the smoke billowing, and tearing as people stumble out of the wooden beads, their bodies pushing the beads to either side, and the smoke billowing out around them.

  I sigh, and push through to find two of the wretched women, guarding a small chest with a split in the top to slip coins through. They glare at a man trying to argue his way in. I grab the man, and shove him out of the way, before rummaging around in my coin pouch. “How much?”

  Without even looking at me they respond in unison. “20 copper for one seat to the fights. You want a box, you need to pre-book it.”

  I smile, and pay the price. They pass me a ticket, with a string of numbers on it, and pass me along. I thank them, and head on my way, down a hallway, and down into an arena embedded into the ground. The whole thing is rather large, there must be a couple hundred people there, and the whole thing is filled with a rich woody smelling smoke. In the center of the arena, it once again descends, into an arena like setup, standing in the center two lightly armored gladiators, wielding short curved blades, dance back and forth, attempting to dissect each other.

  I tut my tongue. “I don't mind this at all… But… I need to find a way to get a cut in this… Whether it be taxes, or making her require permits of some kind.”

  I click my tongue, and swirl around. The whole arena descended deep into the ground, but the four stories of the building that surrounds the pit rise up, with large open windows, displaying boxes that the wealthier customers no doubt lounge in, while watching the fights.

  As I spin I spot something interesting. The largest box, I can't see into it, but it is spewing a thick purple smoke, a key trait of mana infused opium. I tut my tongue once, again, and turn to the side, seeing the stairs rising up, and into the hallways behind the boxes.

  I clamber up the stone staircases, and emerge in the hallway.

  The hallways are well lit with magical lamps overhead. Every couple of steps there's a door, I assume leading to a box, and each one has a label outside the door. Occasionally I pass stairs leading down, or stairs leading up, but the whole place is packed with people, walking about, coming up or down the stairs, as well as a thick, herbal, skunky, smelling smoke, curling through the air lazily.

  As I walk I notice one of the rooms has guards outside of it, stepping closer I notice the words, ‘penthouse box’ engraved on a tiny wooden wall plaque.

  I turn to the guards, and smile. “Via in there? I need to talk to her.”

  They glare at me. “Why the hell do you need to talk to Via?”

  I sigh. “Because I need to talk to her, and if you have a problem with that ill get you fucking deported. I'm literally the city lord. I swear to god some of you people are dumb.”

  They glare at me, “Now why-”

  I smile, and lean forward pressing my finger to his lips. “Shut the fuck up…” I whisper as I lean close. Then I slide him aside, and pull open the door. I'm immediately blasted by thick purple smoke. Rolling over me, and leaving me in a daze.

  But, as I recover from the smoke, the most beautiful young man I've ever seen comes stumbling out the door, teary eyed, and disappears running down the hall, holding his shirt in his hand.