I arrived at the kitchen to find Jay perched atop a precariously balanced tower of chairs, humming cheerfully while attaching a series of small bells to the ceiling.
"Ah, perfect timing!" he called down. "And I see you brought a change of clothes as requested. Sensible. Though you'll probably need a few more."
"Why are you on a chair tower?"
"Setting up your final exam, of course! I call it 'The Gauntlet of Enlightened Learning' or 'G.E.L.' for short." He paused. "Also, the 'G' could stand for 'Grievous' depending on how well you do."
The kitchen had been transformed. The usual chaos of pots and pans had been replaced with an elaborate obstacle course that incorporated training tools from the previous nights, plus new additions like swinging ladles, spinning rolling pins, and an ominous zip line made of sausage links.
I noticed movement at the windows. "Is that Myra out there?"
"Oh yes! Word got out about the finale. I believe there's quite a betting pool going." Jay beamed. "The odds on you surviving the stew pendulum are interesting."
"Is that a zip line made of sausage links?"
"Cured meats make excellent rope substitutes in a pinch! Also, they're delicious if you get hungry mid-heist." Jay climbed down from his chair tower with surprising agility. "Now then, for your final complex lock..."
He pulled out what appeared to be a normal lock box, except it had three faces, each with its own set of keyholes, and it was glowing?
"Please tell me that's not magical."
"Of course not! That would be cheating. This is simply enhanced with some very innovative alchemical solutions I've been experimenting with. The glow is just a side effect. Probably harmless."
"Probably?"
"Well, the last person to pick it developed an interesting ability to communicate with vegetables for a few days. But I'm sure that was unrelated." He set the box down carefully. "This beauty requires you to pick three separate mechanisms simultaneously while they rotate and occasionally... let's say 'express themselves' in interesting ways."
I eyed the box warily. "Express themselves?"
"Sometimes it sings. Sometimes it weeps. Once it recited poetry in ancient Elvish. Really keeps you on your toes!" He clapped his hands together. "But that's just the beginning. Today's grand finale includes:"
He began pointing around the kitchen:
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"A fully trapped corridor with multiple elevation changes,"
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"A series of time-sensitive mechanisms that may or may not involve more preserved lemons,"
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"A recreation of Captain Reed's office security system (for scholarly integrity, you understand),"
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"And my personal favourite: The Pot Pendulum of Perpetual Peril!"
"The what now?"
"Oh, you'll see! Assuming you make it that far. Now then, shall we begin with the lockbox? I believe it's about to start its morning ballad..."
The lock box was indeed singing—a mournful ballad about a locksmith and a key maker whose mechanisms were tragically incompatible.
"One of my forays into mechanical musicology," Jay said proudly. "The box seems to prefer the sad ones. Though sometimes it mixes things up with a jig."
As if on cue, the box switched to an upbeat tavern song about a rogue who picked the wrong lock and ended up married to a goblin.
"Focus on the primary tumbler first," Jay instructed, as I approached the box cautiously. "But be ready to adapt when it hits the chorus—that's when it usually starts spinning."
The next hour was a blur of rotating mechanisms, musical interludes, and what I'm fairly certain was a brief philosophical debate between the left and right keyholes about the meaning of security. The centre keyhole mostly made sarcastic comments.
"Almost... got it..." I muttered, three picks working simultaneously while trying to ignore the box's latest performance—a dramatic monologue about a padlock's journey to self-discovery.
"Careful," Jay warned. "It's building up to the emotional climax. This is usually when it—ah, there it goes!"
The box suddenly burst into tears, actual alchemical drops rolling down its sides and making the picks slippery. But I'd expected this (Jay's "crying lock" from night two turned out to be essential training).
With a final click, harmonized perfectly with the box's last sob, all three mechanisms unlocked simultaneously.
Lock-picking Reached (Uncommon 4)
Lock-picking (Uncommon 4)
Effects:
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Success Rate: 75% on simple locks, 50% on moderate locks, 20% on complex locks
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Detection: -20% chance of being detected
New Ability: Tumblers' Tune–Brendan can "hear" the correct position of lock tumblers, granting a 25% chance to instantly open a simple lock.
Requirements for Uncommon 5:
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EXP Requirement: Gain 400 EXP in lock-picking.
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Skill Usage Requirements:
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Successfully use Tumblers' Tune 10 times
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Pick locks of 5 different types or designs.
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Successfully pick a lock underwater or in another challenging environment.
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"OUTSTANDING!" Jay exclaimed, actually clapping. "And you only got slightly cursed this time!"
"Slightly what?"
"Don't worry about it. The slight green glow around your hands should fade in a few days. Probably. Now, ready for the main event?"
He gestured at the obstacle course that filled the kitchen. It was like someone had taken every training exercise from the past three nights, made them twice as difficult, and then added fire.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
"Is that cauldron swinging back and forth actually full of soup?"
"Technically, it's stew. Last week's batch. Very motivational—you really don't want to fall in." He consulted his notebook.
"Now, to complete your training, you'll need to:
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Navigate the enhanced corridor while avoiding new and exciting triggers.
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Disarm at least three moderate traps without setting off their friends.
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And make it past the Pot Pendulum while maintaining both your dignity and consciousness."
"All while the stew is swinging?"
"Oh no, the stew is just ambiance. And motivation. The real challenges are much worse!"
He pointed to various sections of the course:
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"See those rolling pins on the ceiling? They're synchronized with the floor triggers."
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"That section requires you to cross while balancing on floating soup ladles."
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"And my personal favourite—a series of triggers that must be disarmed in order, but the order changes every thirty seconds!"
"How is that even possible?"
"Through the magic of over budgeting!" Jay beamed. "And with significant investment in kitchen equipment. The Guild's accounting department is still sending me strongly worded letters about that one."
"Before you start," Jay said, producing a blindfold, "let's make this interesting."
"No."
"Just for the first section! Think of it as a test of all your other senses. Plus, it'll help you ignore the various projectiles heading your way."
"The what?"
But he was already tying the blindfold. "Remember—listen for the subtle clicks, feel for air movements, and try not to think too much about what that squishing sound might be."
The next few minutes were a blur of sensations: the whoosh of something passing overhead, the click-click-click of multiple triggers being avoided (mostly), and the distinct feeling that Jay was thoroughly enjoying my suffering.
"Left!" he called out. "No, your other left! The one that doesn't lead to the marinade bath!"
Somehow, I made it through the blind section without major incident, though I'm pretty sure something had nested in my hair. Jay removed the blindfold to reveal I was now facing the soup ladle bridge.
"Simple enough," he explained. "Cross using only the ladles as stepping stones. They're floating in last month's gravy."
"How are they floating?"
"Best not to ask. Some of last month's experiments were rather... ambitious."
The ladles bobbed and weaved as I stepped on them, each one threatening to dump me into the suspicious brown liquid below. Jay provided his usual commentary: "Wonderful form! Perhaps less flailing next time."
"That scream was at least two octaves higher than yesterday's!"
"Mind that green patch—we're still not sure what it is."
By some miracle (and whatever curse that lock box had given me), I made it across. The final section loomed ahead—the synchronized trap gauntlet.
"You know," I muttered, finding my balance, "those stance exercises with Mac actually helped there. Though I doubt this is what he had in mind..."
"Ah, but that's the beauty of comprehensive training—it applies everywhere!" Jay called back cheerfully.
"Now," Jay said, suddenly serious, "this is the culmination of everything you've learned. Multiple triggers, changing patterns, and absolutely no room for error. Also, I may have added some spring-loaded pastry cutters. For flair."
I took a deep breath and stepped into the gauntlet. Immediately, I had to dodge a swinging colander while disarming a pressure plate that would have triggered... something involving feathers and honey.
"Pattern change in ten seconds!" Jay called out. "Mind the ceiling!"
The next few minutes were pure chaos. Rolling under swinging pots, leaping over tripwires that changed position every few seconds, and constantly trying to stay one step ahead of whatever devious mechanism Jay had connected to what.
"Seven triggers disarmed!" Jay announced. "Though that last one was more 'survived' than 'disarmed'."
"And that landing!" Jay clapped. "The famous 'Brendan Drop' I've heard so much about! Though this time it almost looked intentional. Almost."
You've been talking to Myra too much," I grumbled, picking myself up.
Finally, I reached the infamous Pot Pendulum. The massive cauldron of ancient stew swung in a complex pattern, guarding the final few feet of the course.
"Remember," Jay advised, "timing is everything. Also, that stew might be slightly sentient by now, so try not to make eye contact."
With one final burst of energy (and terror), I timed my run between the pendulum's swings, rolled under a last tripwire, and collapsed at the finish line, my heart pounding and muscles aching from the effort.
"MAGNIFICENT!" Jay was actually wiping away a tear. "A perfect blend of panic and competence! Though your technique could use work. And your landings. And your... well, most things really. But you passed!"
"So... I'm done?"
"With the basics, yes! Though if you're interested, I have some advanced courses. There's this fascinating thing with pressure plates and live chickens..."
"NO!"
"Your loss! Though I must say, you've been one of my more entertaining students. Most don't provide nearly as many interesting sound effects."
As I limped toward the door, covered in various kitchen substances and questioning every life choice that led to this moment, Jay called out one last time:
"Oh, and about that curse from the lock box... avoid vegetables for a few days. They can be quite chatty when they first meet someone new!"
Training Complete
Lock-picking:
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Complex lock picked: 3/3
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Lockpicking EXP: 300/300
Trap Detection:
-
Corridor navigation: Completed
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Trap Detection EXP: 300/300
Dignity: Permanently Damaged
Kitchen Phobias: Several New Ones Acquired
The morning light barely touched Haven's Cross when I found Myra in her usual spot in the archives, her brow furrowed in concentration, surrounded by organized stacks of parchment. Her eyes were focused as she sifted through the documents. Our week of investigation into the Brigade's activities at Night's Hollow had produced enough notes to fill a small library.
"I must say," she began without looking up, "last night's kitchen gauntlet was quite the finale. The betting pool did remarkably well—though next time, try to fall a bit more to the left at the soup ladles. Cost me five silver."
"Still betting against me?"
"On the contrary. I bet you'd make it through with exactly three stumbles and one creative expletive. You exceeded expectations on the expletives, by the way. Very creative use of kitchen terminology."
She shuffled through her papers, pulling out our compiled findings. "Now then, let's focus on this report. Captain Reed and Lady Moira will expect a complete analysis by tomorrow morning."
I settled across from her, noting how she'd organized everything into rational sections: trade routes, astronomical alignments, ritual components, and Brigade movements. The ancient Kandari text translations sat in their own pile, their implications still haunting.
"I've drafted the initial summary," she said, sliding a page toward me. "Two weeks until the convergence at Night's Hollow. All trade routes leading there, disguised as legitimate merchant activity. Ritual components being gathered under the cover of normal supplies."
"And the guard's rotation patterns?"
"Here." She pulled another document. "They're clearing specific paths, creating gaps in security that align perfectly with the astronomical events. The Brigade isn't just gathering forces—they're systematically removing every obstacle to whatever ritual they're planning."
I reviewed her notes, adding details about the magical resonance patterns we'd discovered hidden in the merchant guild markings. "We should emphasize how they're using our own trade networks against us. The legitimate merchants might be unknowingly transporting components."
"Already noted." She tapped another section. "Though perhaps we should tone down the part about the preserved lemons. I don't think Lady Moira needs to know about that particular... incident."
"Agreed." I suppressed a shudder at the memory. "Focus on the serious threats. The alignment of the three moons, the convergence of ley lines at Night's Hollow, the systematic gathering of artifacts that were deliberately separated centuries ago."
We worked through the morning, distilling a week's worth of discoveries into a clear, concise report. The pattern was undeniable—the Brigade wasn't just causing chaos; they were working toward something that had been specifically prevented from happening.
"Final section," Myra said, pulling out the astronomical calculations. "Two weeks from now, when all three moons align directly over Night's Hollow..."
"Creating a surge of magical energy that could amplify any ritual's power immensely," I finished. "And with the Ancient Kandari text, possibly containing the actual ritual instructions..."
"Which they still don't have," she reminded me, gesturing to where the sealed Ancient Kandari text sat securely in its case. "At least we kept that from Ellis and his group."
I studied the sealed case, remembering the chaos of that day. "Small mercies. Though I doubt they'll stop trying to get it."
She nodded, making final adjustments to the report. "There. A complete analysis of their plans, their methods, and the timing we're working against. Though..." she paused, a familiar glint in her eye, "perhaps we should include a minor note about certain recruits' unique approach to stealth operations?"
"I think Lady Moira has enough to worry about without adding my training methods to the list."
"Fair enough." She began organizing the final draft. "Though I must admit, your chaos produces results. Even if it costs me betting money."
"Speaking of which..." I gestured to the last stack of notes. "Want to wager on how Captain Reed will react to our findings?"
"Absolutely not. Though..." she smiled slightly, "I might be persuaded to start a small pool on how many times Jay mentions kitchen implements in tomorrow's briefing."
We spent the next hour completing the report, making sure every detail was clear, and every conclusion supported. As I watched her methodically sort through our findings, I couldn't help but hum a few bars of "The Strategist's Lament" - an old tavern song about a general who planned everything perfectly, only to have his soldiers improvise their way to victory. The irony wasn't lost on either of us. Whatever was coming at Night's Hollow, at least we'd given our leaders a complete picture of what we faced. Now we just had to hope it would be enough to stop it.