“I’ll hold you to that.” Raymond laughed as he accepted the offer of a tour.

  “No problem. So, what has our lord been having you do in order to prove yourselves? Or are you not allowed to talk about what you’ve been doing?” Alter asked.

  “What we do best.” Raymond responded after taking a moment to consider the question. “The locating and tracking of certain important individuals. From what we’ve been told about events happening prior to our arrival, these are people you were previously tasked with dealing with. I can’t say any more than that, not yet anyway.”

  “I understand. How are you adjusting to a more populated setting? From what you’ve told us before, it felt like you were more used to cross-country work.”

  “Oh, we’re quite adept in all conditions.” Raymond chuckled before Pendle stepped forward and murmured something in his ear. “Ah, yes. Speaking of which, we need to get back to work. If you’ll excuse us.” The two men gave short bows before exiting the training yard in the direction of the estate’s main gate.

  “I admit I wasn’t expecting to see them again, but I’m glad they’re here.” Riptide said, having watched them leave closely.

  “I had a small suspicion we’d eventually be folded into a larger force, or have others folded into us. The idea bothers me, but if it's these guys then I don’t think I’ll mind it too much.” Boats agreed before smirking at Alter. “I think we’ve discovered what the drunken bet you made was. Here’s hoping they clear the bar.”

  “That I’d introduce them to Oliver? Yeah.” Alter answered quietly. “Seems to be working out though. I don’t think we need to worry about them not being taken on. The maids are preparing more rooms here in anticipation of their arrival, and if Morgan is operating under such an assumption, then I’m not going to bet against it.”

  “Fair enough. Anyway, before we bumped into those two, we were going to take a closer look at the practice equipment we’ve got at the hall. I figured we should try and narrow down a training regimen to present to Oliver once the timing is more opportune. Would you care to join us?” Riptide offered.

  Alter had no immediate tasks he had to take care of, so he was more than happy to lend his opinion. The three men crossed the courtyard and opened a small, nondescript door beyond which the wooden weaponry that used to belong to the knights was stored. One by one, each of the freestanding racks were lifted or pulled out into the sunlight for inspection. The majority of their contents could be immediately discarded, as their synergy with their current arsenals was poor. Long, heavy weapons to be wielded with both hands were an easy pass, even though all present agreed that greatswords were badass. The bows were put aside, as was the small selection of prototype-looking crossbows, their qualities having been easily outmatched by the firearms the squad possessed. There was more debate surrounding the various shields on offer, although the largest and most cumbersome looking ones swiftly joined the reject pile. Finally, they looked to tackle the single-handed swords, of which there were a myriad of options of shapes and sizes. The more obscure of which were tentatively put aside, but that still left them with a small headache worth of choice. Combine that with the shields that passed muster and a small selection of alternatives, such as short spears, the conclusion that they didn’t really know what they were doing was inevitable. By the time this happened, nearly two hours had passed and the sun had made considerable progress on its regular pilgrimage across the sky.

  “We should get Winslow’s opinion on this, he seems like the type of man to sniff out the right choices.” Boats mused as they hauled a rack of pikes noisily back into storage.

  “I’ll see if I can’t collar him for a bit of a workshop the next time he pops up. I’m sure he won’t laugh at us too much.” Alter promised.

  “He seems pretty good at keeping his mouth shut, too. I doubt Oliver would want rumours flying around that his new, mysterious elites don’t know which end of the sword you’re supposed to hold.” Riptide joked as the last heave saw the rack nestled back in place.

  As they sauntered back out into the yard, they found that they weren’t alone anymore. Boozehound had returned from his unknown task, and he appeared to be more than a little erratic as his head darted around. Spotting them, he immediately hurried over, cutting off their greetings with a loud and urgent whisper.

  “I need the two of you to come with me. Now.” He stared insistently at Alter and Riptide.

  The intensity of his arrival threw the trio, who gave each other nervous glances as they processed what was happening.

  “Is something wrong? What happened?” Riptide asked a second later.

  “I’ll explain as we move, but we have to go.” Boozehound insisted before turning and heading back inside.

  “Must be some super-secret command team shite.” Boats chuckled in a mocking tone. “Go on then, I’ll grab one or two of the others to help me square these away.”

  “Appreciate it.” Alter replied as the pair hurried after the medic.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Boozehound was silent as they marched out of Osprey Hall and cut a direct route through the formal gardens of the estate. Even as they exited the gate into Jestriff proper, the protests and questions thrown at him were roundly ignored. It wasn’t until they reached a quieter stretch of road that he deemed it safe to speak.

  “We’re going to the Kalaton temple. As I suspected, our recent success has had an effect.” He explained in a conspiratorial tone, not allowing their pace to slow by a single inch.

  Alter felt himself wince at the prospect with another brush against the deity. A sentiment Riptide seemed to agree with as he made a twisted expression. In a bid to distract himself from what was perhaps to come, Alter instead chose to focus on the people around them, and whether the tension they had felt earlier in the day remained. From the small sample size observed, the answer was a resounding yes. There were nervous glances and whispered conversations abound in spades. While he did not get the sense that they were the subject of such hushed speculation, it was clear that Bertrand Masserlind’s arrival had cast a blanket of jitteriness over the population. The people were wrapped up in a feeling of nervous uncertainty, a state that could easily be taken advantage of by a clever man. There was no doubt this was a deliberate step in his plans.

  Eventually, their little group ran out of street to traverse, with the door to the temple of He Who Gazes Beyond looming ominously before them. With trepidation, Alter pushed them open, and gingerly stepped into the cool interior. Nothing had changed since their last visit, the space notably free of worshipers. The only difference was a small wicker basket that lay between the twin gold and silver plates on the altar, in which a small bunch of lavender petalled flowers lay, tied together with a thin blue ribbon. Silently, Boozehound glided across the stone floor with a peaceful expression on his face, before sitting cross-legged at the base of the altar. Looking back, he beckoned the other two to join him.

  “Why does he have to be so calm about this?” Alter muttered darkly to himself as he felt his legs begin to tremble gently.

  Riptide let out a nervous chuckle at his discomfort, but despite their anxiety they advanced and took their places on either side of the sitting man. Much like the last time, nothing happened immediately. But Boozehound urged patience, and so the men waited. Then, just as Alter was considering giving up and climbing to his feet, he felt the buzz that told him something was in the room. With a slow gulp that resounded in his ears, his eyes turned to the plates, and to what was about to happen. As before, the floor began to shift invisibly, the sense of being submerged and tossed about by raging currents nearly overwhelmed him. Fortunately, a calming hand on his shoulder prevented him from throwing himself backwards out of reflex. After that small eternity, the mental waves subsided, and the promised text began to appear.

  MISSION STATUS // 8Hkio4374”@dfEE0 / UNDEFINED / ONGOING

  CURRENT LOCATION // 2843 3857 / CITY OF JESTRIFF / NORTHERN RILLESTIA

  CURRENT OBJECTIVES //

  -Secure the Masserlind Succession

  -?????

  WELCOME TO SITE-17 // INACTIVE / AWAKENING

  BASIC REQUESTS AVAILABLE // REACTIVATION / REQUIREMENTS / SUFFICIENT

  The message was mostly the same, the strange code, the coordinates and objectives were unchanged. The differences lay later in the scrawled lines, this temple and transitioned from ‘Dormant’ to ‘Awakening’, which appeared to allow basic requests to be taken.

  “Don’t be afraid.” Boozehound cooed in his ear. “He is listening.”

  Glancing over, Alter could see the Frenchman looking at him, his face serene and encouraging. Behind him, Riptide seemed equally shaken by the establishment of the connection, but he was recovering well in between deep, puffing breaths. Alter inhaled slowly, steeling himself for what he suspected would happen once he spoke, and opened his mouth.

  “Are you Kalaton?” He asked in a ragged voice.

  Not half a second after the final syllable left his lips, the world lurched again, more violently than before. He couldn’t overcome his reflex this time. If it wasn’t for the darting, cushioning hand of Boozehound, he would’ve slammed the back of his head into the stone floor. In that moment, he felt the presence of something unfathomably large. Eyes not belonging to reality opened and focused, both above and below, in his past and his uncertain future. In that moment, he felt truly, nakedly observed, like a beetle pinned against an entomologist's board.

  DESIGNATION // ACCURATE

  This knowledge, this simple fact, bore into his skull like a pneumatic drill. His eyes burned. All the joints in his arms and legs buzzed like tv static and each buzz tasted sour.

  “Stop fighting it, you’ll only make it harder on yourself!” Boozehound urged. “The more you struggle to understand, the more violent and stretched the link will be. Relax.”

  Slowly, uncomfortably, Alter pushed himself back into a sitting position as the world returned to something close enough to normal to be considered bearable. He stared downward, counting his fingers, tracing the gaps between the flagstones, realigning himself before daring to gaze upon the altar again. Kalaton was still there, watching. As if waiting for the ripples to fade in a pool of water, he held his next question until he felt stable enough to ask.

  “Why did you bring us here? Are we special in some way?” His words echoed in a space that should not echo.

  He braced himself for the oncoming storm, but it never arrived. No, it was the opposite that occurred. The world slowed. Stopped. As if encased in ice, his friends decelerated until their movements were barely microscopic. The walls felt a lifetime away, the ceiling was a limitless sky. Letters ticked into being with a resonance befitting a clock the size of the universe.

  REASONING // NECESSARY

  SELECTION // IRRELEVANT / ADAPTABLE

  Despite his frozen form, anger began to swell in Alter’s breast at the sheer ridiculousness of the simplicity of this god’s answers. His fury willed the world to resume that he might shout his demands. How could this being put them through all they’ve experienced, against their wills, and then provide such unsatisfactory explanations? Like fragile glass, there was a strange shattering sensation as the normal flow of time suddenly resumed. He heard the sound of his voice, in what started as a hoarse whisper but rose to a screaming crescendo.

  “What the fuck does that even mean?!”