The first thing that Simon did once he was standing ireets of Esmiran was stash his junk in the alley o the bakery. Then, he walked across the street to secure a room at the inn. One silver piece ter, he was back across the street colleg his things.

  The st time he’d been here, he’d spent a few days rexing from the awful pace of the st run before he’d saved that girl and been ambushed by those white cloaks. This time didn’t seem to be any different so far, but then, he didn’t have the clearest memories of this pce beyond the fight, the whisperer, and how cute the baker was.

  No matter what was going to happen this go around, he didn’t have time to waste. So, instead of drinking aing to know the regurs around the bar, he went straight to the bcksmith to size the man up.

  Simon introduced himself as he looked around. Haadon, which turned out to be the smith’s name, was a man of only average talents; judging by some of the pieces he had lying around, Simon robably almost as good as him at most things, but there was no abandoned fe Simon could spend weeks screwing with on the off ce that he could do the work himself.

  Instead, he got straight to the point a his money do the talking. “I have some armor iy bad shape,” he said, pulling a handful of gold s from his purse aing them down in a small sta the anvil while Haadon eyed him with growing i. “It's some pieces, of course, so I’d he utmost discretion.”

  “I’m sure we hahat,” the smith answered, practically lig his lips.

  “You say that, but some of the markings… well, let’s just say if the white cloaks or the vilge busybody caught wind of it, there would be real trouble,” Simon emphasized, setting down another small stack of s. “Trouble for both of us, you uand?”

  This was enough to make the bcksmith meet Simon’s eye, but only briefly, before he returo the growing stack of gold. “Yes, sir. I don’t want no trouble here in Esmiran, so as long as you’re just passing through, I’m not ined to ask about your business.”

  Simon smiled at that but quickly suppressed it. He’d fotten how powerful the magic of greed could be because he’d been poor for several runs in a row now.

  After they agreed on a prid another for the man’s appreo look the other way, Simouro where he’d tucked away his bundle and brought it to the smithy. On most pieces, the damage was retively minor. The chest pied arms had a few dents, as well as some cooled va that o be hammered off. It was only the legs and back that were in really rough shape.

  “I don’t know how you could have survived whatever blow did all this,” the smith said, swallowing hard as he residered their arra.

  “It wasn’t a battle,” Simon said hastily. “It was a natural disaster in Ionia. A mudslide and other things.”

  “Well, then, you’ve e a long way, haven’t you?” the man responded, sidestepping the answer entirely as he studied the armor.

  It wasn’t much of a lie, but the bcksmith clearly wao believe it, and he just nodded dumbly as Simohrough the details about which straps o be repced and which ptes o be fixed.

  “The most important thing is these lines,” Simon emphasized, pointing to the delicate tracery of patterns that were present on every piece. “None of them be removed, and any of them that have started to wear away o be re-etched. If you are ever unclear about what goes where don’t guess. Send your appreo find me. I’ll be at the inn, and I’ll redraw them for you.”

  “That specific, huh?” the man asked, a little pale. “These aren’t dangerous, though, are they? They’re just like—”

  “They are important family heraldry,” Simon shot back, trying to keep everything moving, figuratively speaking. He was well aware of how this looked. He was a deformed stranger appearing out of nowhere and a craftsman a small fortuo do some strange work. It ractically a fairy tale. In a sane world, this man would turn Simon into the authorities as soon as he left, but today, Simon didn’t think that likely.

  So, he left with a firm handshake and a promise of another payment when the work was pleted and the satisfa that this problem, at least, was left behind him. From that point on it was someone else’s problem, he decided, and he wasn’t going to worry about it. He had other things to worry about anyway, like what he could do to prepare for this evening.

  He started by buying a horse. It was only after he’d purchased it that he realized it was a plete waste. He’d imagine himself riding to the mountain vilge where he’d find the dragon syer. However, it was only when he was walking that horse across the town square that he recalled where the portal entrance for this town was.

  It’s in the fug well, he groaned mentally as he willed himself not to cry out anything weird. Does that mean I have to walk all that way in pte mail? I’m never going to get there in time.

  Simohe few minutes soling himself about that as he thought through the problem. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure where he would end up when he came out of this portal sihe ogre was dead as dead could be. So, he would try to stay positive about that.

  He also decided he could use the horse to speed the mystery woman’s escape if she showed up again. He didn’t look forward to fighting a whole group of those weirdos, but he was hopeful he could get her out of there either way and retty sure that was how he would solve this level.

  He didn’t have his leather armor anymore for a start. That was something he’d sorely miss if it came to bat. He did have his knife and sword, though, and he made sure he was wearing both when he came down for dinner.

  He bought himself some stew and a beer, and then he bought a round for the house, too, which was starting to get crowded. This was to try to mitigate some of the looks he was getting. He told a few stories, too, about faraces he’d been, though he tried to avoid talk of killing.

  When one bearded drunk who was almost as old as he was finally asked him about his scars, Simon responded. “Goblins raided my vilge when I was young. Ugly business.” The topic didn’t e up again after that, at least not in his presenbsp;

  It wasn’t until the suhat he saw the girl from st time. Part of Simon had hoped that this time, she would have run faster or farther, and she would have already moved on, out of harm's reach. Then he wouldn’t get mixed up in this. That was a selfish desire, given the shape he was in, and almost certainly an unreasonable ohe very fact that the portal still opened on this level meant that this o be done.

  This time, he didn’t wait for the white cloaks to arrive and moved to the fire to warn her. It was there he got his first surprise of the night. This time, there was someoh her, and strangely enough, it was someone he reized: Aaribsp;

  He’d seen the boy before on this level, though it wasn’t really proper to call him a boy. He was a man now, and a look nition passed between them both immediately.

  “Simon?” the young man asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “Why aren’t you with the white cloaks this time?” Simon responded, fetting himself for a moment.

  That should have caused sternation, or at least fusion with the boy, but instead, without missing a beat, he sighed and said, “You know about that too? I should have known. It's a long story, but we—”

  “Long stories wait,” Simon interrupted, “We o get her out of here before your friends show up.”

  “The Unspoken are ing? When?” This time, Aaric’s answer was a whisper, but as soon as he said that word, Carelyn’s eyes widened.

  “They found me? So quickly?” the woman asked, whirling around to face Aaric. “I told you this would happen, Aaric. I told you…”

  It was obvious to Simon that these two were more than prisoner and warden. They probably weren't just friends, either. That was enough to make Simon wonder just how mue small ge in his childhood had ged the man, but that was hardly the right question.

  The right questiohings like who was she and why was she running away before she could be one of the chosen. For that matter, what he really wao knoho these people were and what word of power they were using to suppress magibsp;

  His mind was rag with questions, but none of those could be asked here. Not when people were already starting to give the three of them strange looks. So, he saved those for ter and said, “e on, I’ve got a horse iable you use. We —”

  “We’ve got ooo,” Aaric agreed. “Let’s get as far from here as possible, and then I’ll tell you what’s happened since you saved my vilge from the dark swarm so long ago. I owe you that much, at least.”

  The three of them got up and moved to the stable. None of them wasted any time, but even as they started to saddle up their mounts, a group of riders wearing white cloaks came to a stop in front of the inn, not so far from them.

  “Damn it,” Aaric cursed. “They really are here.”

  “Is there any reason I shouldn’t kill all of them?” Simon asked in a cold tone.

  Violence usually wasn’t his first answer, but he didn’t see another way out of this. One or two, he might be able to fight with his sword. Three might be possible if he got the drop on them, but in a case like this, that was his limit. There was no way to sneak out the back from the stables, and he doubted they could outrun the rger group for long if they bolted. So, given that there wasn’t really a martial option, all he had left to fall ba was magibsp;

  “Kill them?” Aaric asked as he climbed up on his horse. “What? How?”

  “Unless you give me a better ahan that, I—” Simon hissed, worried as the people started to spread out a bit more, which would make what was about to happen harder.

  “Do what you o do, Simon,” Aariswered. “I just o keep Carelyn safe.”

  No sooner were the words out of Aaric’s mouth than Simon called out, “Gervuul Oo!” both of his panions gave him a look of pure horror as they reized what he was doing on some level, but the real horror was yet to e.

  Simon had sidered fire and lightning for this. It would have sown more chaos. This close to the inn, though, the fireball would light the pce up, and there was no telling where the lightning would go onleashed. So, instead, he used greater ford the magic of his words bined with his focus to create a scythe of pure power that stretched aost of the courtyard before it raced across it toward his enemies.

  Simon had really leaned into the hero bit over the st few lives and tried not to kill more people than he absolutely had to uhey happeo be reted to a certai from Crowvar. This time, though, there was no way around it. Even as some of the men and white cloaks turo face him, the paper-thin shockassed through them, ly slig their heads from their necks.

  In a few cases, amulets that the men were wearing fred to life briefly. Simon would have liked to study that more, but he was already moving. It did not seem to be enough to save the men in most cases anyway, but it seemed to be evidenagical items, which wasn’t something he’d seen very often in this world.

  Such magic didn’t e without cost to Simon. Not at the age he felt now. A year's worth of life meant a lot more to someone who was already fifty or sixty than it did the 29-year-old he was whenever he reset the Pit. Even as he felt the energy leave him, though, he knew he’d made the right decision.

  At least, that was the goal. It went over the heads of a couple of people who had bent down or dismounted. In a few cases, it gashed deeply into people’s chests or simply sliced through the top of their skulls. For a moment, though, it was like nothing had happened. It was only seds ter, as one of the survivors shouted an arm and their two horses darted off into the night, that the true age was unleashed, and most of the Unspoken simply fell to pieces.