Dirt reclaimed the eroded cobblestone road belonging to Lowspire Way. The street was a short walk from Oarwin, and a marathon from decent. Generic, two-storied buildings built from scrap metal occupied one side. Fresh Leftovers Bazaar occupied the other, staking its claim with the pungent scent of rancid vegetables and spoiled grain that mugged our senses as we followed Veigan and Garik's lead. Flies buzzed, the impoverished gathered, and vendors reaped silver one coin at a time.

  At the end of Lowspire Way, a lone building stood, the only one on the entire stretch that was built from stone. Aged, cracked, and long forgotten stone, but stone nonetheless—the best of the worst.

  Veigan and Garik approached the heavy wooden barn door at the structure's center, pressed a key into an iron lock, and the chain slithered free onto the ground. The door conveyed the building's age in an ear piercing screech as Garik dragged it open.

  "You may as well bring the horses inside. There's been shit in here since before we rented the place. We needed a inconspicuous place to stay, I hope this expenditure is acceptable.”

  “I’m glad you’ve shown some initiative.”

  Beyond an ancient heap of dried feces in the front corner, the interior opened into a sprawling loft-style layout. The open floor plan was bare besides two bedrolls, a table built from scrap wood, and loose rations wrappers in the back.

  Natural light poured through interspersed windows, highlighting the abundant dust in the air. Disregarding the grime, the place was a blank canvas with plenty of room to work with.

  "How much was this place?" I asked.

  "25 gold for the month. It's in a low foot traffic area, and the two buildings next to us are condemned, so there's no need to worry about the neighbors."

  "No safety deposit?"

  "A what?"

  "It's an upfront fee the landlord keeps when you inevitably trash the place."

  "The nicest landlords in Ingcaster will have your legs broken if you do that. Well, maybe not your legs. Where did you say you're from?" Veigan cocked his head, eyes inquisitive, though I suspected that curiosity would’ve never appeared had I been wearing the Grimstone Mask.

  "Nowhere relevant."

  I dismounted my horse and took a stroll through the building. "High ceiling. Lots of square footage. Spacious. Could use some work, and cleaning. Lots of cleaning."

  Veigan nodded. "It's on the agenda."

  "Negotiate a fair price and buy it."

  "Are you certain? The tax on property sales here are disproportionately high—the same rate as Oarwin's. Renting is cheaper. You'd be better off buying property north of Emberrest Plaza. It's a nice area where you don't have to worry about being stabbed by vagrants or abducted by the Slaver's Union."

  "They won't be around much longer. We need a base of operations, buy it."

  Viessa cleared her throat and shook her head, still sitting high and mighty on her horse.

  "We should make no unnecessary purchases. It's important we don't draw eyes."

  I never had much money. Enough to get by, pay rent, and afford wings with my pizza. Financial literacy was never my strong suit. When money ran low, that meant knocking over another drug den. Everything I ever owned could fit in a suitcase, so the prospect of owning a building to store that suitcase piqued my interest.

  "She speaks?" Veigan asked.

  Viessa retrieved a rolled up piece of parchment from her saddlebag and handed it to Veigan.

  He unfurled the parchment. "A shopping list? Who are you?"

  "Viessa," I said. "You already met her."

  "The healer," Garik, squinted hard like Veigan was a complete moron.

  "That's not what I meant. Most healers don't have a need for chalk, scribe boards, inks, vibraya root and other poison making supplies. Cyprus, do you want me to buy this building or not?"

  "No, we'll wait for now. Start with purchasing everything on her list."

  "Was that all?' Veigan asked.

  "No. We still need to discuss this evening’s planned activity."

  ***

  A light summer shower muddied the moonlight and washed the grime from Gearward Row's worn cobblestone streets. Ten men acted as a blockade on the northeastern side of the block, walling off the section of the district belonging to Daven Murpharion.

  "This fucking makeup takes forever to put on. When I sweat, it stings my eyes. If I ask the Boss, do you think he'll pay for a new ID and a set of forged documents?" Garik asked.

  "You're overlooking the fact he's insane, and we're both going to die tonight. It's not too late for us to take the rest of the gold and run." Veigan pulled his cowl up over his mouth.

  "Rest easy, as a warrior of great strength it is my duty to protect the small, the weak, the children and babies. Tonight you qualify as all four."

  Veigan threw his head back and let out an exaggerated sigh, catching raindrops in the back of his throat. "At least the rain provides a plausible explanation for these outfits."

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  "Perhaps Boss can predict the weather, too."

  Their raincoats were spun from spider silk. They shimmered like warped panes of glass as they drifted down the street toward the blockade. Veigan stopped at the halfway point and performed a 360 degree scan of the area.

  "He said he'd be watching. But from where?"

  "It matters not. Boss conducts himself outside of reality's boundaries. The first time we met, I saw him cross through Barret's glyph lock and brush off Jankoh's warhammer like it was a toy."

  "I haven't stopped thinking about the glyph lock since that night. I've concluded Barret's age diminished his magic. It's the only plausible explanation for his defeat."

  "Your doubt is the reason for tonight's mission,” Garik admitted. “If you held belief in the path he envisions then we wouldn’t be here.”

  "You jest! Is that what he said to you when he pulled you aside before they left? He only told me not to use his name, and to hand Kelfloss a letter."

  "He instructed me to keep you alive until his arrival."

  "Arrival?! He said he was watching!" Veigan spun around and turned to the sky as if he were petitioning the gods for help, unaware he was staring through Void Seer’s gaze.

  Garik pushed him onward, and Veigan found his stride, filling it with false confidence just as the blockade began paying them attention.

  A level five with an eyepatch towered a foot taller than the rest, but still short of Garik. He puffed on his cigar, blowing smoke as he met the duo in the middle of the road.

  "You and your jester need to turn back," he said meeting Garik eye to eye. "Nice, eye patch though."

  Garik nodded.

  "We're here for business with Kelfloss," Veigan said, stepping between them.

  "Come back tomorrow during the day."

  Veigan reached his open palm out toward Garik, and the thugs watched intently with their hands on the hilts of their weapons. Garik dropped a heavy coin sack into his palm, and Veigan loosened its drawstring, dumping gold in the mud at the thug's feet. Then he turned and strolled away.

  "You'll regret your decision when your boss learns you turned away Korragon, Business Extraordinaire," he said over his shoulder.

  "What's an extraordinaire?"

  Veigan dismissed him with the back of his hand. "You must be too poor to know. I'll find another fence who longs for untold riches."

  "Wait," he said.

  A wolfish grin spread across Veigan's face as he and Garik accepted their new escort down Gearward Row. Another 20 guards, all between levels four and five lined the way, grumbling as they approached the same warehouse I had rampaged through days ago.

  The level five rolled the cigar into the corner of his mouth, knocked twice, then three times in rapid succession. “Bacon.”

  Light poured out from underneath the door as it was raised.

  Damn, it's bright.

  I dropped Void Seer into Garik's shrinking shadow, tracking them as they entered the warehouse. Unlike my first visit, the shelves had been stripped of merchandise and replaced with dozens of guards. They all belonged to Murpharion's private outfit and ranged between levels 4-6. Karma's Gaze pinged Toom, the level nine ear collector, and Malik, the level eight who specialized in counter magic, Kelfloss, and two new targets.

  Target: Evaloriah

  Level: 8

  Karma: -7,755

  Additional Data: Cheats in every game, on every romantic partner, and her taxes.

  Bonus Information: Also known as Ember.

  That's it?

  Target: Gulugthenar

  Level: 7

  Karma: -12,325

  Additional Data: FEED ME.

  My vision flipped upside down and the entity within shifted. A nauseating starvation emerged, almost ending Void Seer's connection. It was like the beast inside had lifted its hand from a seal, unleashing a taste of its insatiable burden.

  Quit it, asshole. I'm in the middle of ordering you a pizza.

  Void Seer stabilized and the hunger pangs retreated faster than they had appeared. Disturbed by how it affected Karma's Gaze, I re-read his status.

  Additional Data: Paid a steep bribe for Gunder to call him the Shadow Warden in front of everybody one time and one time only. After a second, larger bribe, Gunder addressed him as the Shadow Warden during the Murpharion family's annual team building extravaganza. Since then the moniker stuck, bolstering his reputation among his colleagues.

  "Aces, again. Looks like I win." Ember giggled.

  The redhead palmed the pile of coins laying in the table's center. She licked her lips and Toom grabbed her wrist.

  "Three in a row?"

  He twisted her arm and a slew of cards rolled out of her sleeve.

  "You bitch."

  As he tightened his grip, her hand flashed white hot. Toom released her, reeling back as he blew on his palm.

  "You'll pay for that one way or another."

  Kelfloss mucked his cards, uninterested in the game, nor the drama. Instead, he focused on the two strangers advancing through his warehouse.

  "Sorry to disturb you, sir," the level five escort said.

  "I told you about the new hours. This better be good," Kelfloss said.

  Veigan stepped forward, and cleared his throat. "Excuse our intrusion. I'm Korragon, Business Extraordinaire originally from Durotai, and—"

  "Business extra, what?" Kelfloss interrupted. "Don't waste words. What do you want?"

  "To deliver this letter." Veigan reached underneath his raincoat, and into his jacket pocket, producing an envelope. "You should know I'm unaware of its contents. I've brought it here under the duress of the same man haunting our nightmares."

  Kelfloss snatched the envelope. As he broke the wax seal, Ember, Toom, and the Shadow Warden stood from their seats, peering over his shoulder.

  Toom cracked his knuckles, eyes turning into slits. "I can't read."

  Someone snickered among the gaggle of guards near the front of the warehouse.

  "Who laughed?" Toom violently flipped the table, sending cards and coins flying.

  The heavy, mahogany table almost collided with Veigan's temple, but Garik stepped in front of him and splintered it with his fist in a surprising show of speed.

  "I'll read it aloud, calm down," he said. "Dear Kelfloss, I will be stopping by for another payment. I fear Toom, Ember, and the Shadow Warden will not suffice for tonight's show. You have three hours to arrange a better defense."

  The light from Veigan's eyes vanished. He backpedaled two steps into the guard who had escorted them in. He looked to Garik for the next move, but judging by the giant’s radiant expression he was rather enjoying story time.

  "PS. Please treat the messengers with respect. They are non-combatants. Kelfloss, I hold you personally responsible for their safety."

  He dropped the letter and mirrored Veigan's hopeless expression.

  "There's a traitor in our midst," Toom barked. "I bet it's the sonofabitch that laughed at me earlier. Someone break his ribs."

  "No—the phantom knows factors he shouldn't." Kelfloss caught wind of Veigan's clammy, raised brow. "You know what I speak of."

  Veigan leaned forward and cupped his hand over his mouth like that would stop me from hearing him. "What he knows about you is the least of your worries. I feel this is my last chance to get out of this mess. Please, rally everyone you know who can wield a sword."

  Toom stood toe to toe with Garik, holding a massive iron halberd at his side. The face-painted giant held the edge height wise, but Toom looked like he had swallowed a witches cauldron, keeping all of his weight in his bulging gut.

  "I'm in the mood to carve flesh. Why don't I start with the jester?" he said.

  "Don't move a muscle. He's a Kura Kari Gami, one of the world's deadliest combat slaves. We're sending a raven to Mr. Murpharion," Kelfloss demanded.

  "Your cowardice disgusts me," Toom snarled and backed down.

  Kelfloss had the guards drag over another table where he rapidly wrote a letter, folded it up and handed it off to a runner. I hopped from Garik's shadow to the runner as he headed for the exit.

  Perfect. Take me to your leader.