It was another hour before the Saint’s swamp train was in sight. Dense brush and massive foliage making it so the train was only several hundred meters behind them once it arrived.

  The crew aboard the train didn’t even bother to close distance, opting instead to leave about a hundred meters or so of buffer zone. Potentially preventing boarding and definitely making use of the ten enhancement emplacements Ozzy saw on the front of vessel. Giving Ozzy the distinct impression that this was not a train meant for hunting monsters, but for hunting other trains.

  Leaning over to Emil, Ozzy whispered. “Are there ever swamp train battles?” It wasn't a topic he wanted the rest of the group thinking about, and so he did his best to keep his voice low. The last thing, anyone needed was another reason to be anxious. Especially when they were being faced down by a train twice the size of theirs with a core user capable of killing everyone their little community expedition.

  “Sometimes, but normally with groups way stronger than ours. No one at our level is gonna be getting anything worth risking one of these things for.” Emil said, gesturing at the massive craft.

  “Maybe if it was like the edge slingers. I could see them and the watchers getting into it if they had all of their members but otherwise it’s rival guilds and people who don’t even bother going beneath the city floor.” Emil said, shrugging.

  “So, no one here would have any idea of what to do if those guys decided to start turning us into swiss cheese?” Ozzy asked.

  Emil turned slowly, pulling away from Ozzy as he asked in confusion, “What’s swiss cheese?”

  “Nevermind” Ozzy said, sighing loudly as he waited for something to happen.

  Thankfully it only took a few minutes for the Saint’s swamp train to send across a messenger. They sent a big, mean, hairy, biker looking dude to come parlay. Some of the messenger’s scary looks were offset however by the comically small dinghy he had to struggle to balance in as he made his way across.

  After hoisting the biker dude onto the ship everyone waited with bated breath to hear what he had to say.

  “I leave with the core user Ozzy, or the Saint comes and takes him.” The biker said, projecting his voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

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  Speaking up nearly instantly Lucy said. “We will be giving him up.”

  After she spoke there was a susurrus of whispers and hushed voices. What it was specifically for Ozzy couldn’t tell, though Lucy might have spoken a bit too soon. It was never a good look for a leader to just throw someone to the wolves without even trying to stop it from happening.

  “I’ll go willingly!” Ozzy shouted back, taking confident strides through the crowd of firelight members who parted rapidly to let him through.

  Upon seeing him the biker guy let out a snort. “You made us come all the way out here to get you and now you decide to be cooperative?”

  Ozzy raised an eyebrow. “I told the Saint I’d get back to him once I made it back to the city. We haven’t been back yet.” Ozzy said matter of factly.

  “Narders.” The biker man said, and spat on the directly in front of Ozzy.

  While he wasn’t familiar with the term it was pretty unambiguously delivered as some sort of insult. Then judging by some of the gasps and Lucy’s face which was now bright red it was a pretty hefty one. He’d have to remember it.

  “Are we gonna get going?” Ozzy asked, drawing a baleful look from the biker man who without another word turned and headed back for his dinghy.

  ***

  The ride between the swamp trains was as awkward as sitting in the back of an earthly patrol car. At least a cop car had a spacious backseat. Ozzy and the biker guy were crammed tight in the dinghy which, was really only meant for one person. Had it been two people closer to Ozzy’s size it would have been alright but with the biker guy it was like trying to cram an eighteen-wheeler into a normal parking space.

  Upon their arrival Ozzy was thankfully separated from the biker guy. They were pulled up by an equally rough and tumble looking group who laughed at the man’s grumpiness and exchanged money as bets that looked to have been made on the man’s survival resolved.

  Waiting just past the mean looking group was a man dressed in similar livery to what the Saint had worn. Simple clothing, the majority of it being white, adorned with some shiny pieces and bits of smooth delicate golden jewelry,

  “Please follow me Mr. Ozzy.” The man said, and as he was turning away added. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. The Saint has spoken a great deal of you on this trip.”

  Complying Ozzy followed a few feet behind the person he could only assume was a monk. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a pleasure.” Ozzy grumbled.

  “We do apologize for the way things progressed.” The man said sheepishly, pausing to open a door and usher Ozzy inside. “Had it been possible we would have waited for you to return to the city. Unfortunately, thing’s got a little heated in the church

  “Why does that matter?” Ozzy asked, fed up with everything already.

  “It means everything!” The man said, a slight tone of offense coloring his words.

  “Whatever, my bad. Where’s the saint?” Ozzy asked, getting straight to the point.

  “Right here.”