With Aranya on our carriage, we traveled slowly back to the city of Advalence, our business at Manor Pauvert and the Silken Forest completed. We only stopped once; Aranya had tapped Mug to stop before bolting into the forest, coming back out ten minutes later rubbing her belly and wiping her mouth. I think I saw some hairs being wiped away as well—the kind that covered the legs of her and her kin.

  “I just needed a little snack,” she said apologetically. “You know, before we get to the wherever we’re going. Tell me, Lugenhelm, where exactly are we going?”

  Luckily, thanks to Void, I could actually answer that question.

  ‘We’re going to the royal capital, Advalence. We have a bakery there that we will drop you off at, and then Mug and I probably have to go talk to the king to tell him about all the nonsense Pauvert put us through.’

  She settled back into her spot on top of the carriage, causing the horses to let out an audible ‘oof’.

  “The royal capital of Advalence, huh? Is it dangerous? What’s there to eat? Do they make clothes in my size?” Sounds like the former First Among Mothers didn’t really get out much before retiring.

  ‘It’s probably the most dangerous place I’ve been so far. There is lots to eat, but I’m gonna go ahead and make the rule that nothing that talks is included on your menu. And quite possibly; it’s relatively diverse.’

  She made a noise of annoyance when I told her not to eat anything capable of speech, but otherwise seemed to accept what I told her. I’ll admit, having an apex predator that saw everything on the menu—up to and including their own kind—was worrying. I was just going to have to hope her bloodthirsty nature could be kept in check or at least diverted toward local livestock instead of locals. I was going to need to invest in cattle.

  Other than that minor interruption, the ride back into the city was slow and, honestly, downright pleasant. Aranya began to hum a dreamy, bittersweet song from her perch on the carriage, and Mug kept the horses at a slow trot. Watching the landscape turn back from the swampy woods to the golden fields and plains was enjoyable. I used the downtime to inventory what I had pilfered—er, rightfully liquidated—from Pauvert. Twenty-one gold, seven bolts of silk (each about two hundred feet of material), and an assortment of random scrolls, books, and silverware. Oh, and one suit of armor, which gave me an idea.

  Polymorph 2 had been unlocked, and I was tired of makeshift limbs. Don’t get me wrong, it was better than nothing at all, but fighting at the lake showed me just how vulnerable I was to terrain changes. I didn’t expect this to be fixed overnight, but I wanted to make sure I was moving in the right direction. I felt the mana in me rise as I activated Alchemical Recycling and Polymorph at the same time. I visualized the end result and then heard the distinct ‘pop’ of the magic activating.

  I had been sitting on the carriage floor as a standard trashcan; I was now standing on two legs. Well, to be precise, it was two sets of leg armor: sabatons for feet, greaves for ankles, and cuisses for the upper legs. I activated the mana to make them move, balancing on either foot then trying a small hop. It worked! Much better than my makeshift legs from before, though not as mobile as my spider form. I hopped out of the wagon and ran beside it for a while, Aranya watching me through hooded eyes while Mug drove the carriage.

  It wasn’t as mobile as the spider legs, but it had trade-offs to make it worth it. First, mana cost; it was a higher mana cost up front to manifest legs, but less to maintain and use them. Second was perception. Having eight legs was disorienting, even if I had mostly gotten used to them. I had to be a lot more conscious of my movement with eight legs, whereas two legs was basically automatic. I guess thirty-one years as a bipedal humanoid was hard to shake off. Finally, I figured it looked slightly less terrifying. With my eight legs, I looked like a stop-motion nightmare. Now, I just looked like an absurdist nightmare, which I felt was much more palatable.

  Satisfied, I jumped into the carriage for the rest of the ride. By the time we got to the bakery, it was just fading into night, the twin moons beginning to rise as the dark crept over the city. Our area of the Tallow Ends slums was mostly deserted, but the few people we did see took one look at Aranya and almost all decided to be anywhere else. Understandable; she would usually smile and wave in a way that was more threatening than anything I had ever seen.

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  Finally we were back at the bakery, but it took me a second to realize it. It seems in our absence, Keggr had been busy. The entirety of the outside was fully patched with new bricking. The windows had been boarded with wood, and there was even a door that almost fit on the front side of the building. It almost looked habitable! Like something only recently added to the ‘condemned’ section instead of something that had been there for years!

  There was one other new installation: Keggr, tied by his feet to a post and upside down. He was surrounded by ratkin—Clan Gold Tail, based on the bruising on some of them. I could see Gold Tooth in the front, gleefully holding a large torch, waving it underneath Keggr’s beard, which oddly didn’t seem to want to catch fire. Were dwarves fireproof? That was something to ask Keggr later. From the looks of it, Gold Tooth had recruited more ratkin after the beating they received last time, numbering around thirty instead of the ten or so we had fought a few nights ago.

  “Well, well, look-see what we got here! Goblin and trashcan! Bet you didn’t think you’d see-hear Clan Gold Tail again, didya? Thought you beat-slapped us down real well, eh? Ha!” He laughed and his thrall of followers followed along. After the Adaptive Guardian, this seemed like child’s play.

  ‘Hello Keggr. Wanna tell us what happened? Or should we just skip to the part where we get you down?’

  Keggr sucked his teeth in annoyance. “Oh aye, lad, by all means, let’s just jaw about while these vermin got me strung up like a ham! Whaddya mean what happened? You beat these furry bastards, but ya didn’t kill 'em! Rookie mistake! Next time finish yer plate, ya dam—”

  A large ratkin shut him up by stuffing a dirty rag into his mouth. Mug jumped down from the carriage, and I used my new knightly legs to stand beside him. Gold Tooth had a new staff—gnarled brown wood with a lump of crystal in one end—pointed dangerously my way and making a small, indistinct whistling noise.

  “Well, this time Clan Goldtail’s gonna carve-cut you two up nice and slow! Gonna make goblin skin hat and metal shoes, haha! Gonna—”

  His threats were stopped by an involuntary shriek. He and all the other ratkin froze as one. It was uncanny, and at first I was confused, until I turned my sight behind me. See, when Aranya had been lying on the carriage with her eyes closed, it was very easy to mistake her for just a part of the carriage, especially in the dark. But she was no longer lying still; she had unfolded and was standing behind us menacingly, her silvery eyes glinting in the moonlight. Her claws clicked as she dismounted and stood over Mug and me. I wondered if something that likely evolved from prey felt hardcoded dread when facing something that evolved from a predator. Based on the fact that I could now see at least two pairs of wet pants, they did.

  “My, my, what cute little creatures! Lugenhelm, if they are not talking, does that mean they are on the menu?” she asked. I think she was only putting on an act to scare them. I think.

  ‘No. Only if they can’t speak.’

  She sighed. The ratkin couldn’t hear me, but they got the message: the trashcan said she can't eat us. “Well, what can I do to them, then?”

  I thought for a second before relaying my thoughts to Mug to speak out loud. “Master Lugenhelm wants to know what Clan Goldtail would do if such offense as has been shown our dwarven friend was shown to a member of Clan Goldtail?” Mug asked curtly.

  There was a moment of uncertainty before the ratkin behind Gold Tooth bumped him forward. It was like the thing penguins did, pushing one forward to test the waters for orcas. He immediately began to grovel, removing his dingy hat and holding it over his chest.

  “Begging pardon-sorry, of course, meaning no offense-affront to your lovely bakery or digging friend, of course, and w-well, if Clan Goldtail was ever shown offense, not that it was meant-intended, but if it was—”

  Aranya cut him off by tapping her large claw directly in front of him, causing him to shriek and jump.

  “W-what I meant was a tax! Clan Goldtail would ask a tax-tithe of… one?” He paused as he waited to see if that was acceptable. I told Aranya it wasn’t, and she took another menacing step toward him. “Er, did I say-speak one? Meant one plus one—er, two! Forgot-lost my numbers, begging pardon! Two gold coins a week! Would only be just-fair! Two gold coins a week, indefinitely, until offense-affront is forgiven-forgotten, yes?”

  I let Mug and Aranya know that would be fine for now. Aranya gave a heavy sigh, a little disappointed I hadn’t let her rip into the Goldtails. She walked directly over them, her presence causing them to cower as she passed. She only stopped to use her sharp claws to cut Keggr down.

  “Nice to meet you. Aranya, Former Queen of the Nightweave and First Among Mothers.” With that she scuttled up the roof and found an unfixed hole to disappear into, her massive form dislodging dust and causing Mug to avert his gaze respectfully.

  There was a long tense moment as the remaining ratkin faced Mug, Keggr, and me. Keggr broke the silence in true Keggr fashion. “Who was that lass? She sounded like someone stuck two succubi together on a crab! Whew! That’s a woman, yeah?” He brushed himself off, clapped a ratkin on the back in a companionable way, then walked inside.

  Mug followed and I clanged in last. Mug stuck his head out before the door closed. “We’ll accept payment the first day of each week at midday sharp! Good night!”